Player Substitution (Puck Battle Series, #0.5)

by Kristen Echo

  A week without sex was messing with her brain. Chuck’s arms seemed bigger, stronger and more capable of manhandling her the way she craved. She loved the way the light sprinkling of chest hair darkened around his navel, showcasing his taut abs. He had the body of a man who worked hard and played harder. Looking at him hurt too much. He should put his shirt back on.

  “Where are your clothes? Forgot them at your lover’s place.” The reminder of his affair was enough to knock the lust from her.

  “Don’t even joke like that. You came home early, I hoped to surprise you with your favorites and beg for a chance to talk. I heard your car pull up as I was stepping out of the shower. Being here, like this, groveling at your feet was more important.” He held out the flowers for her to take.

  Miranda didn’t accept his offer and placed her hands on her hips. “Why are you really here, Charles?”

  “You only call me that when you’re super ticked off, but you know why I’m here. I love you, and I am so sorry.”

  “I’ll repeat my previous question, this time try being honest. Why are you here?”

  “Miranda, I am being honest. I don’t want to be away from you, I love—.”

  “No, if you loved me, you would have kept your dick in your pants. You wouldn’t have betrayed me. Don’t you dare insult me and lie to my face by saying you love me.” She tapped her sock covered foot and closed her eyes.

  Maybe if she blinked for five seconds, it would all disappear.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  No such luck. When she opened her eyes, her husband was still on his knees, holding out flowers because he slept with another woman.

  He considered her before speaking again. “I hurt you, and I will forever hate myself for what happened. My intention was never to insult you, or hurt you, but please understand that whatever happened in no way diminished my love for you.”

  She laughed, a humorless and hollow sound. “Could have fooled me.”

  “Dammit! Tell me what to do to make this better. I’ll do anything. I can’t lose you.” The desperation in his voice was too much.

  A tear escaped, and she hated the salty drop for betraying her. His words hurt almost as much as his indiscretion. She wanted to hit the rewind button and tell her boss she couldn’t make it to work. But if Chuck was going to cheat, it didn’t matter what day. It would happen. Her marriage had become a farce, and she didn’t know when that happened.

  “Why? Tell me why you did it. It’s killing me, Chuck, was it all the baby talk? Cause if you didn’t want a baby yet, there were other ways to tell me.” A sob tore from her throat. A baby had been all she thought about for the past year since Chuck agreed to try. He’d been on board, she thought, but maybe he’d been lying to her all this time.

  He had delayed their efforts because he wanted to focus on building his business. She would have been fine, happy even, if they’d accidentally gotten pregnant years ago, but it wasn’t meant to be. Chuck had dreams of playing for the NHL, but broke his leg their senior year and it never healed properly. His backup was fixing trucks and heavy machinery.

  He owned and operated a mechanic shop in the small town where they grew up. She was beyond proud of him and put her dreams on hold to support him. He busted his butt to create a solid reputation, and she supported his decision. Now he was more stable and had another mechanic on staff. He had more home time, and he could be the father he wanted to be. Chuck would make a wonderful father someday.

  “I want to make babies with you. I still want the future we talked about.”

  Hearing him talk about babies and creating her dream future hurt too much. Miranda felt winded, like his words had been a physical blow to her stomach. “No, you obviously don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have put our future in jeopardy. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have fucked another woman.” She cussed, and the word hung in the air like smoke before a blazing fire.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d slept with someone else. But that one and only other time was different.

  Profanity wasn’t part of her vocabulary. Chuck swore like a sailor, but Miranda rarely talked like that, cussing and putting people on the spot. She was raised to be polite and give people the benefit of doubt. Those traits had gotten her nothing but a broken heart. She walked past her husband and into the kitchen. The air became too thick to breathe.

  Chuck made dinner like he said. Her favorite veggie lasagna was bubbling in a casserole dish on the counter. The table was set with candles, more flowers and soft music played in the background. Most people would think he was trying too hard with the romantic scene and loving words, but that was standard Chuck. He always took care of her. Doted on her like a princess. It broke her heart more to see their usual routine.

  The first time seeing him since she kicked him out wasn’t going well. It was torture on so many levels. She couldn’t sit and pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t. Chuck walked in wearing a t-shirt which clung to his body in all the right places.

  Her heart and her sex were at war. She wanted to rip the clothes off him and make love, but she hadn’t forgiven him. She blamed herself a little because they’d been abstaining to only have sex while she was ovulating. Stupid plan that backfired in a big way. Chuck loved sex. They both did, and before the baby talk started, they screwed like rabbits on a daily basis; sometimes more.

  Marriage and time hadn’t dulled the cravings. They acted like insatiable teenagers most days. She doubted that it would ever slow. But that didn’t mean one dinner on bended knees would be enough. Heck no.

  She marched over to the table and yanked hard on the green tablecloth with tiny white snowflakes. The candles, flowers, and place settings fell to the floor with a loud clatter. What she wanted was for him to bend her over on the table and fill her with his cock. Press her chest to the wooden top and plow into her until she couldn’t concentrate. She wanted to scream until the pain went away. Instead she quietly and very calmly faced him.

  “You need to leave.” She glanced at the floor to make sure she hadn’t inadvertently started a fire. After she confirmed she hadn’t set the house ablaze, she continued. “I need time without you. It’s impossible to think with you here.”

  “I’ll do anything you say; please tell me we have a chance. Tell me I didn’t ruin the best thing in my life.”

  Miranda couldn’t answer that question yet. But with Carly’s plan swimming through her brain, they stood a chance.

  He approached her slowly, cautiously. She didn’t stop him. “I love you, babe.” He kissed her cheek and walked away.

  She’d never seen him so deflated and sad. His bravado and massive shoulders were hunched, making the over six-foot-four mammoth of a man appear small, almost frail.

  It broke her more to see him hurt, but he brought this on; not her. She’d love nothing more than to bury her face in a pint of ice-cream, but her marriage would not save itself. If she wanted her marriage to recover, and find a way past this, then she needed reinforcements.

  She walked into the home office and booted her laptop. A trip to the city was in order. Something she dreaded doing alone, since the crime rate had skyrocketed lately. The holidays often brought out the worst in people, confirmed by recent headlines regarding the disappearances of several youth.

  Any other day, she would have drawn a bath and soaked her sorrows away, but not tonight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Miranda walked into the small community club gym and took a deep breath. Chairs were positioned in a circle, but people hadn’t taken their seats yet. She spotted several women gathered by a table. Each one held a Styrofoam cup in her hand, clinging to it as though it was their lifeline. On the table were three carafes, a pitcher of water, and a box of donuts.

  Nothing held any appeal.

  She anticipated the support group to be filled with women, but several men mingled among the crowd. She counted twenty-three people. One person carried a clipboard and wore a lanyard around her t
wenty-something neck. While people were out buying last-minute presents for their loved ones, she attended a support meeting to deal with infidelity. Who knew things like that even existed?

  Her research into plotting the perfect revenge left her worn out. The internet was full of wild schemes and over the top antics. Miranda felt like she was going crazy and falling further down the rabbit hole with each new website. She knew she wasn’t the only person whose partner cheated. Others were going through her same turmoil. She stumbled across a link for this group, and needed their support to make her feel sane, or to confirm her plan was indeed insane.

  Chairs filled up as she stood by the entrance, debating whether or not to enter. Her coat remained zipped as she rocked on her boot heels.

  “This is the last session before Christmas. So, if you need to talk, you’ve come to the right place,” a man said, stepping around her. He was young and attractive.

  “Oh, I won’t do much talking,” Miranda answered, hugging her purse close to her chest. She contemplated returning home to her comfortable flannel pajamas and a pint of ice-cream.

  He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over his arm. “That’s cool. You can listen and it helps to know you’re not alone.” The man had kind brown eyes, short blond hair and a goatee.

  Sex appeal radiated off him, but he was nowhere near as sexy as her husband. She hated the idea that if she couldn’t fix things in her marriage, soon she’d be back on the market. A place she’d never been and never sought to experience.

  She followed him into the room and joined the group. They took two vacant chairs next to one another. The woman with the paperwork smiled at her and handed her a card. Miranda shoved it into her purse without looking.

  “I’m Tess, a student at the university at the moment, but someday I’ll have my own practice. Until then, I charge nothing for my time. I’ve been where you are, talking helps, and my number’s on there. Day or night, I’m never too busy.” Upon closer inspection, the girl wasn’t in her twenties but early forties. The lines around her eyes and mouth were well camouflaged by layers of makeup.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll call. I’m really not sure why I’m here.” Right, because people frequented Cheaters support groups all the time for fun. Everyone knew why she was there. “I mean, I’m here for a reason. But the... um.”

  Tess put her out of her misery with a gentle tap on the hand. “When you’re ready.”

  Miranda closed her eyes and wished for the ground to swallow her. The middle of the circle could transform into a vortex, transporting her to an alternate dimension. A new reality where she wasn’t facing a cheating spouse. That scenario was far more appealing than waiting to bare her soul to a bunch of strangers.

  Why on earth did she think this was a good idea?

  Tess walked into the center of the group and clapped her hands, drawing attention her way. Things were about to begin. This was a mistake, her leg bounced, ready to bolt.

  “Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m Tess, the organizer of this group. Christmas is less than a week away, and for most of you it will be a very lonely day. We couldn’t find a space for the group to meet again until after the holidays. Sorry about that, but I’m a phone call away if it gets to be too much. We have a few new faces, so I’ll go over the basics. Talk one at a time and respect each other. You might not agree with what everyone says, but it’s their lives, and their relationship. We all process differently. Be supportive and leave your judgment at the door. You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready, but sharing is the path to healing.”

  New Age Mumbo Jumbo. Her husband sharing himself got her into this mess in the first place. The only path she saw was headed towards pain and misery. The loneliness was almost too much to take already. She swallowed hard.

  “Kyle, do you mind starting tonight?”

  The man beside her, whom she’d met at the door, smiled and waved to the group.

  “As Tess said, my name is Kyle. I’m here because my girlfriend, the woman I assumed I would marry, cheated on me. That happened over a month ago, and I can’t move on. She said it was only once. She blamed alcohol, but I’m not sure I believe her. If she loved me then why would she cheat? We don’t live together, which is both a blessing and a curse. I miss her more than I can bare most days. It’s like I lost my arm, although that might actually hurt less. I feel lost and I’m a fucking pilot. I can’t afford to be lost.”

  Kyle, put his head in his hands while Miranda processed his story. A month after the life altering event and he was still visibly aching. She had learned of her new reality only days ago, and it scared her to think she might still be reeling come the New Year.

  “Thanks for sharing. Hopefully others will have some insight for you. Anyone want to go next?” Tess had a way of speaking that soothed and invited.

  Miranda wanted to share if getting her story out there would make her heal. She was willing to give it a shot. Her marriage and her future happiness was worth the embarrassment.

  Her hand was half-way in the air when a gorgeous black woman stood up. Her thick mane of dark curls had been straightened and hung around her ample bosom. Miranda thought she had curves, but this woman’s rocking body put hers to shame.

  “My name is Shinai, and my ex-husband cheated so many damn times, I lost track. He used to say it was a mistake, and when I asked why, he’d feed me lines: I love you, Shinai; I can’t live without you, Shinai. The broken record continued for years and I listened. The begging and lies became too much, and I kicked his lying, cheating ass out.”

  She sat back down, but it was clear she was far from done. “Kyle, my man, you need to let her go. It’s been two months since LaDamian got his marching orders, and I am starting to be me again. I had no idea how much energy it took, hating him and myself. But I’m free now. Feels good, too good to look back. Once a cheater, always a cheater. The question we have to ask ourselves is how long are we willing to be doormats? I hung in there for six long years after the first time. That mother-fucker ain’t stealing another second of my life.”

  Her points were all valid. Miranda admired the courage it must have taken to walk away. She’d never been in a situation that tested her bravery before now. She always did the right thing. Gave up her seat on the bus if anyone needed it. Like Carly said, Miranda was a nice person. A personality trait she found lacking in many people.

  Did that make her a doormat? A pushover would take this affair lying down and accept it. She would not do that. Nice didn’t have to mean gullible.

  “Thank you, Shinai, for reminding everyone it takes time to heal. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m glad you’re getting stronger.” Tess looked around the room for the next willing person.

  Miranda stayed in her chair and waved her hand. “Okay, my name is Miranda. I came here because my husband told me he cheated and doesn’t know why. He loves me, but he’s lost my trust. I’m here looking for ways he can win it back.”

  “Honey, let me tell you trust is fragile. It might take a Christmas miracle to repair it,” Shinai said.

  That was the opposite of what she hoped to hear. She listened as more people shared their stories, but no one provided examples of how to fix anything. One thing became clear: she wasn’t alone with her pain. The questions still lingered regarding the framework for repairing their broken hearts.

  When Tess told everyone to take fifteen minutes for coffee, Miranda was thirsty and her mind was spinning. She made a b-line for the coffee and poured the thick black liquid into a white cup. The first swallow confirmed it was sludge. Caffeine had become her new best friend since going to bed alone made for sleepless nights.

  “Your husband wants you to forgive and forget?” A tiny waif of a woman, stood next to her, filling her own cup.

  “Forgive yes, forget no. He says he can’t remember anything, but booze doesn’t erase his deeds. My friend suggested I get even, make him pay. And she gave me a list of things to do too, but I’m uns
ure,” Miranda said, putting the cup on the table.

  The woman rubbed her hands together. Her wedding band sparkled like a new snowflake. “Oh, I love lists. What are you going to do to get your revenge? I poured my husband’s favorite scotch down the drain. Then I posted a nasty picture of him, sitting on the toilet, all over my social media.”

  Miranda covered her mouth to hold back a laugh. “Did it make you feel better, and are you any closer to reconciliation?” She was desperate to know the answer.

  “I felt amazing at the time, and I don’t regret doing it, but we’re still apart. The wounds are too fresh. I need more reassurances than him saying he won’t do it again. He expects me to get over it and take him back, but he hasn’t hurt enough yet.”

  Kyle stepped next to her. “My girl hasn’t suffered at all, while I’m dying inside. What’s on your list Miranda? I’m curious.”

  “Um... My man loves hockey. I thought I’d try to find tickets to a game and rub his nose in it. But I have no cash and all the games are sold out. So, not a great plan. I’m still figuring that one out. There are a lot of really evil things online, but I’m not prepared to torture my husband. I want to make our marriage work. The only other thing that makes sense to me was to make him jealous. Show him what it feels like to be cheated on. Though, I couldn’t have sex with anyone else. Yeah, that’s all I’ve got.”

  “Great list so far. A little PG for me, but you should get your point across. My guy loves hockey too. Maybe we could go to a game together? I’m Rosa, by the way.”

  The women shook hands as Kyle dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got two tickets to tomorrow night’s home game. I’m a season ticket holder, and I’d gladly give them to you, but I’ve got a condition.”

  Wholly dynamo—her plan was being put into motion. Forget coffee, Kyle and Rosa were her new best friends. “Name your price.”

  Kyle smiled, his straight perfect teeth gleaming with possibilities. “A date with me the following night. I think my girl needs to see me moving on, and we can check off the second part of your list together. You come to dinner with me, then I’ll go wherever you need to make your husband jealous. Deal?”