The Hat Trick Box Set

by Samantha Wayland

  “Yup,” she replied, popping the p. “And, fortunately for you, a discreet one. We’re cool. That is, unless you shirk me on those wings. Then I’m calling Pierre McGuire with an exclusive.”

  The very idea, even though she didn’t know shit and he knew she was only joking anyway, made him want to barf. He raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention. In two minutes, he’d ordered Lena wings and a drink, and himself another beer. No way in hell he was going back for his partially finished one at the table. He was in far enough over his head as it was.

  Savannah curled up on their huge living room couch and tried to focus on the game she’d chosen to watch specifically because New York had a few players that she didn’t trust not to try to break her guys when they played each other next week.

  This was her preferred way to work from home. She had her favorite snowflake blanket over her legs, her Rudolf pajamas on underneath, and only the television, the apple-cinnamon candles, and the bright, cheerful lights on the Christmas tree in the corner for light.

  The boys liked to make fun of her for all her Christmas stuff, but she knew they secretly loved it. Well, okay, Garrick loved it and Rhian was utterly baffled by it, but he did enjoy seeing how happy it made her to decorate their home. She liked to go on and on about those adorable light-up Christmas villages she could hardly resist every year at this time, just so she could see the confusion on Rhian’s face as she described the little figurines skating on the little pond with the little cocoa stand.

  It was fucking adorable—the Christmas village and Rhian’s reaction.

  She laughed to herself and hoped Rhian was also having a good time tonight. Maybe the boys could get him to cut loose a little. Be less serious for a couple hours. Hell, get him drunk enough to dance, even. She didn’t worry that he would do anything stupid. And she certainly didn’t worry that he’d cheat. It just wasn’t in his make-up, even when it would probably be easier for everyone if he was seen dancing with some woman. Or chatting up someone at the bar.

  She was still frowning over that thought when Garrick came back into the room, bearing her a fresh cup of chamomile tea.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking it from him and putting it on the coffee table to cool.

  He nudged her until she made room for him behind her on the long sectional—not that she needed to be convinced. She happily settled herself between his long legs, spreading the blanket over both of them before tucking her side and shoulder against his chest.

  She tried to focus on the television again, but was starting to realize she might have to give it up as a lost cause. Her mother had warned her about “baby brain” and now she was getting an idea of what that meant. One second she was watching the TV, the next her eyes were tracing over the heavy evergreen garlands she’d draped along the mantelpiece and wondering if she should add some red berries for color, and then she was staring at the picture of her, Garrick, and Rhian perched among the greens.

  “You thinking about him?” Garrick asked, apparently not paying any more attention to the game than she was.

  “Yeah,” she confessed, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Do you think he’s changed his mind?”

  “About us?” he asked in total disbelief.

  “About the baby,” she said, her heart lodged in her throat from just speaking her greatest fear.

  “What? No,” Garrick said firmly, pulling her closer. “He’s just…” Garrick trailed off, and Savannah wondered if he’d had an idea of how to end that sentence when he’d begun it. “I think he’s accepted a lot of changes, and this is another big one, a particularly scary one for him, so I think all that’s finally caught up with him,” Garrick said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, there’s us, of course. Being in love, falling in love with both of us freaked him out. You know that.”

  Indeed, she thought with a small smile. “Freaked out” was an understatement. But he’d gotten used to the idea. To having them around. Being with them. Living with them and sharing a life.

  “And then you add on his discovery of his biological family here in Boston. Finding Seamus and Chelsea, and suddenly having a grandfather and a sister for the first time in his life. Not to mention confronting the mother who abandoned him, and meeting his psycho brother, and not having them in his life.”

  “Thank god.”

  “Right. Then you throw on a six-year contract, a few million dollars a year after a lifetime of having nothing.”

  “And we still can’t get him to spend the money,” she said with a grin.

  “He’ll probably have most of it in the bank, untouched, when he retires,” Garrick agreed. “So, then you add on a baby, and the fact that he never had a father, and that he’s probably worried he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and…”

  “It’s a lot,” she agreed, getting what Garrick was saying, but finding a new worry in it. “What if it’s too much?”

  “It’s not.” Garrick’s confidence was absolute. “He’s the strongest person I know. He’ll figure this out, and when he’s ready, he’ll come tell us what’s on his mind. He will.”

  “I hope so,” she said, but she wasn’t as confident. “And before he does something really regrettable at work. He’s been hovering.”

  “You can tell him to back off.”

  “I’m afraid to,” she admitted. “I’m afraid he’ll run.”

  “He won’t. He never has.”

  She turned so Garrick could see her face and the look she was giving him.

  “Okay, but that was at the very beginning and doesn’t really count. He came to find us to fix it. He’s going to come find us on this one, too.”

  “But we’re right here. He sleeps beside us every night. We make love to him, he makes love to us. Why can’t he just…”

  “He will. Be patient.”

  Savannah sighed, but it was more affectionate than exasperated. “Well, he needs to hurry up.” She ran her hand over her belly. “I’m working on a timeline, here.”

  Chapter Three

  Noel let out a deep sigh of relief when Coach blew the whistle and indicated that Noel was done for the day. The backup goalie jumped into the net, getting his shots in for this last part of practice while Noel got a head start to the locker room. Or, more accurately, to the trainer’s room.

  He almost went in the wrong direction in the warren of tunnels under the ancient arena, but it wasn’t his first time in Detroit, fortunately, so he managed without issue.

  No issue, that was, until he heard a strange noise and stuck his head through the door to see what was going on.

  Savannah was doubled over one of the huge trash cans, her hands braced on either side to keep it from rolling away from her, as she threw up what had to be the entire contents of her stomach. And then some.

  Shit, that looked just miserable.

  As quietly as he could, Noel snuck back down the hallway and into the locker room. He’d need to see Savannah eventually about what he suspected was the beginning of a tight groin muscle, thanks to the heroic split save he’d foolishly made during shoot-out practice, but he could strip out of his gear and shower first. Give her some time.

  And maybe spend a few minutes praying to all that was holy that the food they’d eaten on the flight out here wasn’t going to give them all food poisoning. Or that she didn’t have a stomach virus, because what one of the team got, they all got eventually.

  The rest of the guys filtered into the locker room a few minutes after Noel was done in the shower. He was still sitting on the bench in a towel, consumed with guilt because he should have said something to Savannah and made sure there wasn’t anything he could do to help her. It had been pretty shitty of him to have left her alone like that. It was just—Noel always wanted to be left alone when he was sick. And, well, he was squeamish.

  Rhian tromped into the room with the rest of the D-corps and smiled at Noel. It was good to see Rhian in a happy mood. He must have had a good practi
ce. But at the risk of ruining that, maybe he should tell Rhian what he’d seen? Rhian was, after all, good friends with Savannah. Hell, he must like her a lot, since he voluntarily lived above her garage, which was just weird—the dude made millions, and he lived in an in-law apartment? But whatever, maybe she’d be comfortable accepting some help from him.

  “What’s up?” Henri asked as he took his seat further down the bench, following Noel’s line of vision to Rhian and looking between them.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just…I saw Savannah was sick. You know, barfing? In the trainer’s room? And I was wondering if I should say something to Rhian.”

  Noel wasn’t sure what Henri would advise, but he sure as hell didn’t expect Henri to break into a smile and look so pleased. What the fuck was up with that?

  And they said goalies were weird.

  Before Noel could ask Henri what his malfunction was, Rhian wandered over. “Hey. Did I hear my name?”

  Noel shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, feeling guilty, again, that he hadn’t offered to help Savannah himself. Now, twenty minutes later, it probably wasn’t going to do a lot of good, but he plowed on anyway. “Yeah, uh…I thought you might want to know that I caught Savannah being sick when I got off the ice. She looked…well, it looked pretty miserable, man. And I know you two are friends, so—”

  Noel didn’t bother explaining himself further, since he was suddenly talking to the empty space in front of him. Rhian was back at his stall, ripping the rest of his equipment off like it was on fire.

  Noel caught Henri’s surprised expression, then they both watched the show as Rhian stripped down to his Under Armour and bolted from the room in nothing else. Not even socks.

  Noel grimaced. No one should ever walk around these locker rooms without some kind of protection on their feet. That was just wrong.

  “What the fuck was that?” he asked no one in particular.

  Henri huffed out a half-laugh and shook his head.

  Rhian knew better than to race into Savannah’s office like a lunatic, but he did it anyway. He burst through the door to find her standing in the middle of three of his teammates, calmly discussing their post-practice routines and what modifications were needed that day. The room, and her staff, bustled around her.

  She appeared as healthy as a horse as she looked over her shoulder at him standing in her doorway in nothing but a pair of compression leggings—they were tights, if he was being honest—and a long-sleeve t-shirt plastered to his chest with sweat. He probably looked about as good as he smelled.

  Worse than being yelled at for being an idiot was the way Savannah kept her face perfectly neutral and asked, “Is there something you need help with, Rhian?”

  “Uh…no. I’m good.”

  The guys were all looking at him funny now. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t come up with a single reasonable explanation for his behavior.

  “Did you take a wrong turn?” Savannah asked mildly, and he latched on to that.

  “Yeah. I guess I did. This old place gets me every time.”

  He thought maybe a couple of the guys had bought that, and he didn’t linger long enough to determine what the rest thought, let alone if he could convince them. Spinning on his heel—his bare heel, which was gross, because everyone knew you didn’t walk around these places without some form of protection on your feet—he trudged back to the locker room. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone—particularly the French Canadian mafia—as he stripped down the rest of the way and ducked into the showers. The bus to the hotel would be leaving soon, and he wanted to be on it and not have to find his own way back. Then, like the fucking adult he was, he could sulk alone in his room.

  Road trips were the worst. They hadn’t been so bad when Rhian had still lived in hotels full-time himself. The only difference from being at “home” back then had been that the team generally fed him and he was a little busier with all the moving around from hotel to rink to bus to hotel. He’d liked not having to think about much, just being able to do his job to the best of his ability.

  Now, though, road trips sucked. Rhian wanted to be at home, in his own bed, surrounded by his own things. The idea of having things was a relatively new one for Rhian, but he’d taken to it. He’d still, though, burn them all, throw out every object he’d let himself collect, if it meant he could spend all his time with Garrick and Savannah.

  But Garrick was at home, and Rhian wasn’t. When he’d first signed with Boston for six years, he’d actually thought the travel wouldn’t be so bad, since Savannah would be along for the trips with him. Sure, they’d both miss Garrick like crazy, but at least Garrick would have the comfort of home, and they’d have each other.

  But it didn’t work like that. When they flew, she sat up front with management and worked, while Rhian sat towards the back with the guys and played cards or read. He didn’t sleep, almost ever, on the flights because as soon as he closed his eyes, all he did was wish he could move up ten rows and put his head on Savannah’s shoulder. It just made the distance between them that much more palpable to him.

  And the hotels were the worst. Sometimes she’d be a few floors away, other times as close as across the hall—but it didn’t really matter which. She wasn’t with him, he wasn’t with her, and, worst of all, they had to pretend that didn’t bother either of them. And maybe it didn’t bother her. These days she was so desperate for sleep, she probably passed out the minute the hotel room door closed behind her. But he wanted to be on the other side of that door with her. He wanted to watch her sleep and know she was safe and tuck his face against her shoulder and feel her warmth.

  Instead, he would be alone in his room, trying to make himself warm with blankets and dry, stale hotel air that would never smell of vanilla and home. And definitely not of Savannah and Garrick.

  Rhian hadn’t jerked off on a road trip in over a year. That couldn’t be normal, could it?

  He must have been giving off a pretty good leave-me-the-fuck-alone vibe by the time the team climbed aboard the bus, because even his friends didn’t do more than bump his shoulder, then sit down around him. He stared out the window for the short drive, only really starting to pay attention to the world around him when he saw a CVS on the corner. Then a convenience store flew past, just before they took the final corner and pulled up in front of the hotel.

  Rhian told himself to chill out and be normal as he followed the rest of the team into the hotel. He couldn’t help but notice, though, that Savannah hadn’t made the bus. It wasn’t all that unusual that she would find her own way back, but when she also didn’t show to the dinner the team had arranged in one of the hotel’s large conference rooms, Rhian felt twitchy.

  He’d already screwed up enough for one day, though, so he didn’t run up to her room and beat down the door, in spite of the burning desire to do so. Instead, he slipped his phone from his pocket and checked for a text from Savannah with her hotel room number. They were in the habit of sending their room numbers to each other when they arrived, though usually it only served to make him hyper-aware of how he wasn’t in her room, instead of offering reassurance that he’d know where to find her in an emergency.

  In any case, he had it. And tonight, that was a reassurance.

  When dinner was over, Rhian begged off joining the guys in “an epic Mario Kart battle” in the lounge that had been set up for them, saying that he was going to go for a walk instead. Henri stared at him, studying him in a way that made Rhian distinctly nervous, but Rhian knew better than to ask.

  He smiled fondly at his idiot friends as Jean-Michel rode herd on Henri and Noel all the way down the hall, trying to get them to trash talk about their video gaming skills while they both just rolled their eyes.

  Rhian wandered casually out the hotel’s front door, but as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk, he turned left and picked up speed. In a matter of minutes, he’d pulled together a bag of Ritz crackers, lemon-lime Gatorade, two Hershey bars, and a tin of peppermi
nts. He found another shop that sold him a box of chamomile tea and two of the largest, cheesiest, glitteriest Christmas mugs he’d ever seen. Savannah would love them. He didn’t really strike gold, though, until the appliance store. Loaded down with his purchases, he blended with the rest of the shoppers as he made his way back toward the hotel, a gift-wrapped box with a cheerful red bow under one arm.

  He ducked into the hotel’s garage entrance, found the elevator, and took it to the sixth floor, where he meandered down the hall toward his own room. When he didn’t see anyone, he slipped into the stairwell, then down one floor. He peeked into the hallway on the fifth floor and saw no one, but at this point, he needed to check in with Savannah before he did anything else.

  She wasn’t going to like it, but at least this way they could prevent anyone else from witnessing his stupidity. That would help, anyway.

  He smiled when she picked up on the first ring. “Hi, baby.”

  “I’m guessing that greeting means you’re alone.” Just hearing her voice made something in Rhian’s chest loosen. “Are you in your room?”

  “Yes?” She sounded suspicious.

  “Can you let me in?”

  “Rhian…”

  “I’m looking down the hall. There’s no one—”

  “Come on. Quick.”

  Rhian didn’t know what changed her mind, and he didn’t care much, either. He darted out of the stairwell and down the hall, praying that Coach—or anyone else from management—wouldn’t open their doors. Savannah’s door opened the moment he arrived, and he slipped inside. She stumbled back a little when he pushed the door wider to get his parcels through with him, but he gladly wrapped his arm around her and anchored her against him as he kicked the door shut.

  As soon as she was close, the moment he could feel her body against his and smell her shampoo and feel her hands on his back, he let go a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.