Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) (21 page)

He landed with one knee on Bobby’s chest and watched Bobby’s
pal Greg’s eyes widen. A second later Rhian sailed over Garrick, planted one
foot on the bench and hurtled himself at Greg and another of Bobby’s fan club. All
three hit the floor with a sickening thump.

Then
all hell broke loose.

Savannah crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the
four men sitting side-by-side on her table. She was prepared to give them
another stern lecture, though they’d already had at least one of those. They
couldn’t have missed it, either. The entire arena had heard Rick screeching at
them. Who knew a grown man, let alone a big bad hockey coach, could reach that
octave? She’d barely managed to dart out of his path as he stomped out of the
arena, muttering about fucking arrogant, brainless idiots.

And they were that. She lifted a brow and refused to respond
to their wide, shameless grins. Two of them couldn’t even see out both eyes,
for Christ’s sake, and yet they were obviously delighted with themselves.

Rolling her eyes, she turned to her supplies and brought out
another box of gauze. She’d already gone through three that night—
after
her post-game work—thanks to the brawl Garrick had started in the locker room.

She’d made these four wait to go last. They’d also been the
last to be released from Rick’s tender care, so their ears were likely still
ringing. Bobby had fled the arena without a backward glance, but his buddies
had come by to be patched up. She’d also taken care of all the others who’d
ended up taking shots to various body parts in their efforts to break up the
fight—which included, but was not limited to, Mark, Steve, members of the
janitorial staff, the head scout, several of the front office workers, and at
least a dozen players.

Half the team’s administrative staff had come running to her
office as soon as word of the fight had escaped the locker room. Mark had been
with her, trying to talk her down from the ledge, but he’d taken off to the
locker room, demanding Sheila stay with her. She’d protested, but Sheila had
shut her down.

“No way am I leaving you alone for one second.”

It was, Savannah reflected as she stuck scissors in her
pocket and looped rolls of tape over her fingers, nice to discover she had more
support than she’d expected. Too bad she found out just in time to leave.

She shook her head. No point dwelling on that any more than
she already had. Every minute standing by the bench tonight had been torture,
her focus on the game only possible through sheer willpower and years of training.
And for the first time in her life, she’d hated it. The noise. The crowds. The
cameras. It was Bobby’s most unforgivable sin yet, and god knew that list was
long.

Sheila hadn’t left her side during the brawl and break-up. Not
until these four had shown up and Savannah had decided to let them in to see
her. She was glad for their company, though in no mood to admit it. And it
wasn’t like Mark was in any condition to play escort with his lip split, his
ribs bruised, and his pants torn in an exceedingly awkward place.

Yep, there was going to be
hell
to pay.

Bracing her hands on her hips, she gave each of them a stern
look in turn. God, it was hard not to let her lips twitch. They were a freaking
mess. Garrick was still bleeding over his eye, Rhian had ice packs on his head
and groin, and Mike had a black eye that was very nearly swollen shut. Alexei, by
some miracle, had only sustained scraped knuckles.

No amount of stink-eye was making a dent in their glee.
Fortunately, she knew just how to wipe those grins off their faces.

“You do realize that now the entire city of Moncton thinks
they know which half of this team I’m sleeping with, don’t you?”

Their stunned expressions were extremely gratifying.

“That’s what I thought.” She shook her head, went to Alexei,
and cleaned his cuts with antiseptic. “How are you going to play like this?”

He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I’ve played with worse.”

If he could make it through the fight with only scraped
knuckles, that was probably true.

She moved on to Mike, cleaning his abraded knuckles and then
inspecting his eye. “You’re probably going to miss a game because of this. You
won’t be able to see properly for a few days at least.”

Mike smiled. “Worth it.”

She sighed, totally exasperated. “Really? It doesn’t change
anything.”

Rhian laughed. “Sure it does. Bobby won’t be mouthing off
again anytime soon.”

“And not just because he’s missing a couple more teeth,”
Mike added.

Savannah stopped in the process of breaking open another ice
pack and turned her eyes heavenward, praying for patience. She. Would.
Not
.
Laugh.

She gently lifted Mike’s shirt and prodded his bruised ribs.
She grimaced when he sucked in a breath.

“Think they’re broken?” she asked.

“Nah. Not even close.”

Throwing up her hands, she stood back and planted her fists
on her hips once more. She should chastise them. Rail about their stupidity. The
risks. But damn it, she just didn’t have it in her.

She sighed, then smiled. Begrudgingly. “Thank you.”

Their grins faltered, replaced with momentary surprise,
before beaming even wider.

God help her, she’d been around hockey players too long. It
had been an incredibly foolish thing to do, but she was actually flattered.

Mike and Alexei hopped off the table. She squeaked when Alexei
wrapped his huge hands around her face and kissed her on each cheek, then on the
first one again, loudly, before releasing her.

“You’re welcome.”

With that he turned and left.

Mike shrugged. “It’s a Russian thing.” He kissed her cheek
too, though more gently and only once. “But you
are
welcome.” He ran to
catch up with his friend.

Savannah watched them go, bemused.

Turning back to Rhian and Garrick, she sighed again
.

Garrick had yet to say a word. He was still smiling at her.
Grinning like a fool, in fact, after Alexei’s hearty kisses.

Rhian gingerly slid off the table, still holding the ice
packs to his head and his crotch. He winced when his feet hit the floor.

“You sure you’re okay?”she asked gently. Groin injuries were
one thing, but there was little she could do about the results of a shot to the
nuts.

Rhian shrugged, bringing on another wince. “Yeah, the head
bump is already better. And getting kneed in the junk sucks, but it will fade.”
He looked back at Garrick. “Next time you’re in that foul a mood, I’m leaving
my cup on until I get home.”

Garrick laughed. “I didn’t do it!”

“No, Steve did.”

Savannah’s eyes widened at Rhian’s accusation that her
assistant had maimed him, and he laughed too.

“It was completely by accident when he was trying to pull me
off the pile. It’s a long story.”

For the first time since she’d started with the Ice Cats,
Savannah was glad her office wasn’t in the men’s locker room.

Rhian stepped forward and she smiled, tilting her cheek to
his kiss. Garrick’s brows lifted—well, at least the one that still worked—as
she willingly accepted Rhian’s affection. At this point, why not? Her plan to
be the queen of all-business-no-play wasn’t working anyway. In fact, she wasn’t
going to miss it at all.

Her smile faded. No, the hard part now was telling Garrick
she’d quit. That she’d be leaving as soon as she could pack up her shit and go.
She’d already called her parents to let them know she was coming home, her tail
tucked firmly between her legs, goddamn it, until she could find a new
position.

“I’m sorry about everything, Savannah,” Rhian said softly.

“Thanks, Rhi. I’m sorry too.”

With a nod to Garrick, Rhian left, shutting the door behind
him. She almost called out for him to leave it open, but she let it go. She and
Garrick would be locking up in a few minutes anyway.

Turning to Garrick, she cocked her head and studied his
swollen face. The bleeding over his eyebrow was down to an ooze, his left eye was
swollen almost completely shut, and his upper lip distended to the point it
should have been comical.

“How bad is the stuff I can’t see?”

Garrick’s smile slipped. “Not bad.”

She frowned. “That wasn’t very convincing.”

His shoulders lifted, about to shrug, but froze. He grimaced
as he slowly let them fall again. She tugged up his shirt before he could
object.

She cringed at the florid bruises across his ribs. With a
gentle touch, she traced the continuous path of purple skin until it
disappeared beneath his waist band. Then she studied his stony face.

“Your groin?”

“Fine.” He said it quickly enough that she believed him.

“Your hip?”

He sighed and met her eyes.

“How bad?”

She was almost glad he couldn’t shrug. He twisted his lips
in a humorless smile. “Bad. Hit the floor first, with most of mine and Bobby’s
weight on it.”

Shit.
She didn’t ask if it was a season-ender. A
season-ender would be a career-ender, and they both knew it. Buying time by
collecting more supplies, she swore she’d get him back on the ice to finish
this season, if it was the last thing she did before hauling ass out of town. Garrick
had earned her loyalty. Hell, he’d earned her devotion. He deserved the right
to wrap up his career on the ice with dignity. Doing something as stupid as
picking a fight to defend her honor was not nearly a good enough reason to blow
that.

She went to work on what she could fix, cleaning up his face
and hands and applying butterfly bandages to the cut. He sat patiently, barely
making a sound except to suck in a breath when the sting of antiseptic caught
him off guard. She ignored the way he stared into her face, his gaze
disconcertingly direct when she leaned in to do the close work on his forehead.

Stepping back, she took stock. He wasn’t even close to
presentable, but she’d done her best. He’d taken some painkillers a while ago,
but she doubted they would do much good. She could send him to the hospital for
something more powerful, but he’d refuse.

“God, Garrick. What the hell were you thinking?”

His warm brown gaze captured hers, and Savannah’s heart
lurched.
Chocolate.
He towed her close with one hand fisted in her
fleece, until she stood between his knees.

“You know what I was thinking?” he asked, his voice low and
gruff.

She fought the sudden urge to clap her hands over her ears
and run from the room, even while part of her was still desperate to wrap his
battered body up in her arms.

“No,” she said. “You had to know it wouldn’t help. That it
might make things worse.”

“Yeah, I knew that. It didn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my friend,” he said softly.

“Oh, well…” She smiled, touched and uncertain what to say.

“And I love you.”

Everything in the world came to a screeching halt. Her
heart, her lungs,
everything
.

“No.” Her denial was firm. Reflexive. Desperate. “You’re
confused. We’re friends.” She grasped for any explanation, for an excuse. A way
to make him take it back. “You’ve never had a woman friend before, right?
You’re just confused.”

Garrick looked at her like she was crazy. That was exactly how
she felt. This was
insane
.

“It doesn’t really matter if you believe me or not. I am in
love with you.” He said it calmly, certainly, his chin jutting forward.

God, when had this all gotten so out of control?
Her
heart pounded as if she’d sprinted to this disastrous end.

“Garrick, you
can’t
.”

His good eyebrow arched. “Why not?”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and for once she did
nothing to stop them. “Because I quit. I’m leaving the Ice Cats. Moncton.”

You.

Garrick wrapped his fingers around the edge of the padded
table, ignoring the sting of his shredded knuckles, the shaking in his hands.

She was leaving him. Already.

The first time in his entire life he’d ever said those words
to a woman and it had all gone wrong within ten seconds. That had to be some
kind of record.

He’d been stunned to learn something could feel so good, so
right
,
when he’d finally figured it out. It had been true for weeks, possibly since
she’d climbed into Reese Lamont’s limo and lost all control in his arms. That
was when the funny kick had started beneath his ribs, the insatiable need to be
near her had taken hold in his gut.

Friendship. Love. It was all tied together in Savannah.

And so he’d told her. Only to have it dismissed and handed
back to him on a plate of
no thank you
with a side of
have a nice
day, I’m leaving
.

He sat motionless, trying to find his way through the
emotions—fear, anger, love, sadness.

A tear slowly tracked down Savannah’s cheek.

In the time they’d known each other, she’d been assaulted,
harassed, stalked, insulted, and had her reputation savaged on television. She’d
never cried. Not until he’d told her he loved her.

He brushed the drop from her jaw as another began its slow
path down the other cheek.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said, his voice gruff. He
was dangerously close to losing it. He swallowed hard.

She closed her eyes, freeing two more tears. “I can’t stay.”

“I know you can’t. It doesn’t make it any less true.”

Savannah’s tears came faster. “I don’t know what to say.”

Garrick tried not to flinch. No doubt now about whether she
might say it back, regardless of how ill-fated their relationship.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He carefully eased off the
table and to his feet.

It had been one hell of a day. He needed to go home.

She stepped back, rubbing the heels of her palms across wet
cheeks and under reddened eyes. He carefully tugged the rolls of tape from her
hands, pulled her scissors from her back pocket, and tossed it all on her work
tray.

What few reserves he had left were draining quickly. His
body hurt, but it was small compared to the ache in his chest and the
increasingly loud pound of his pulse in his head.