Well Played

by J. S. Scott

  I sat my ass down on the other side of the bench. “It’s all I have,” I said defensively.

  “So I guess we understand each other,” Ty answered. “I’ll catch the balls if you put them into my range.”

  His statement was kind of like a promise. “I’ll put them in the right place,” I agreed.

  He nodded. “So now that we have that out of the way, what else is on your mind?”

  “Not a damn thing,” I lied.

  “Bullshit,” he said.

  “You don’t know anything about me,” I said angrily.

  “Now seems like a good time to get to know you. My career is going to be partially dependent on how well you throw.”

  “If I get the balls there, why in the hell do you care about anything else?”

  “I’m curious,” he said calmly. “You’re a guy with a reputation. I want to know if you deserve it.”

  “Everything is true. I was a dick in New England, and I haven’t changed much.”

  “Changing is your choice,” he mentioned casually. “You can either be part of a team, or you can continue to be an asshole. I just want to know which one I’m getting before practice starts.”

  His candidness threw me off-balance, but I respected a guy who spoke the truth.

  I thought about what Lauren had said about this being a new start for me, but I wasn’t sure how to make things different with the Wildcats.

  “I’m not a team player,” I admitted grudgingly. “I’ve learned not to count on anybody except myself. It’s safer.”

  “You want to get to the playoffs?” he asked.

  “I want more than that. I want a damn Super Bowl ring and the bonus that goes along with it.” My contract was going to include a seven figure bonus for winning the Super Bowl.

  “No team gets there when they’re disconnected,” Ty observed. “I’m not saying you have to kiss anybody’s ass. But you need to think about the big picture. Super Bowl teams are organized. The guys get to know each other well enough to anticipate what another player is going to do. Plus, they have to outsmart the other team.”

  “Mental toughness is just as important as communication,” I pointed out.

  “Agreed. But we’re all going to have to get along to some extent. If you want the Super Bowl, everything has to gel.”

  I frowned. “Then I’ll make it gel.”

  “You can’t control the behavior of everybody else on the Cats. But you can start by being an example.”

  Damned if he didn’t sound like Lauren. “What in the hell was your major in college?”

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “Neuroscience. Once my football career is over, I’d like to be able to go back to school without worrying about money. I’m continuing my studies here, but I want a doctorate so I can do research. I get off on how the brain works.”

  “Jesus. Just what I need is another Dr. Freud,” I grumbled.

  “What?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. You just remind me of a friend.”

  “Is that good or bad? Tell me it’s not the dude who just screwed your fiancée.”

  “It’s a female friend. She’s gifted. Twenty-two years old and she has a doctorate in physics, and a degree in psychology.”

  “Is she single?” he asked enthusiastically. “I have a thing for smart women. Hey, it’s not the woman who broke all the age records for college studies, is it? I’ve heard about her. Sounds like the same person. She lives here in Colorado. I’d love to meet her.”

  My head turned sharply to give him a dirty look. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

  It didn’t matter that I’d walked out on Lauren. She wasn’t fucking one of my teammates. It would destroy me.

  Ty put a hand up as he said, “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I do like smart women, but I don’t tread on a friend’s territory. I take it she’s more than a friend?”

  I didn’t know how to answer his question, so I was silent for a minute before I said, “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Her brother slept with my fiancée.”

  “Shit, man. That’s complicated.”

  “You have no idea,” I responded.

  Ty stood. “Let’s go get some lunch and talk about it. I’m starving.”

  I was grateful for the reprieve, but I didn’t usually hang out with other guys on my team. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to start now.

  Ty was too damn introspective, and I wasn’t the type of person to analyze myself when I didn’t have to. I was too afraid of what I’d discover.

  “It’s just lunch, dude,” he said as he folded his arms in front of him. “It’s not like I’m asking for a lifelong friendship.”

  Ty was right. “No talk about Lauren,” I insisted as I stood up. “She’s off-limits.”

  “Fine,” he said with humor in his voice. “Then I’ll pick your brain about other stuff.”

  “No brain picking,” I said irritably. “Can’t we just fucking eat?”

  He grinned. “I’m talented. I can do both at the same time.”

  Smart-ass!

  We both grabbed our stuff and picked up our athletic bags. “Then you can tell me about your life,” I rumbled. “I don’t want to talk about mine.”

  I turned around and started walking, letting him fall into step beside me.

  We were almost to the parking lot before I stopped.

  Ty halted beside me. “You know that guy coming toward us?” he asked, his tone wary.

  I knew exactly who it was. I’d stopped because I didn’t really want to talk to him, but his determined stride didn’t falter, so he kept getting closer and closer.

  It was Jack.

  “Fuck! I don’t want to talk to that bastard,” I rasped.

  “Then don’t,” Ty suggested calmly. “Is he cool?”

  I knew he was asking if Jack was going to start any trouble.

  “He’s not looking for a fight,” I answered. “He’s the one who slept with my fiancée.”

  Jack obviously wanted to talk about what happened. He’d called me several times. More than likely, he wanted to explain—unless he’d found out that I’d screwed Lauren.

  I found that highly unlikely.

  “That’s him?” Ty asked, his voice rougher than I’d heard it since we’d met.

  “Unfortunately,” I confirmed.

  Jack stopped right in front of me. Shit, I didn’t want to hit him, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop myself.

  Just the sight of him had me in a rage that had nothing to do with him messing with Hope and everything to do with his betrayal.

  Jack had been all I had, the only male friend I’d ever trusted for as long as I could remember, and the asshole had just thrown that friendship away for a blow job.

  “I got this,” Ty said, his tone dangerous.

  Turns out, I didn’t need to beat the shit out of Jack. Ty pushed me aside, drew his arm back, and then hit Jack with so much power that he laid him out on the ground with one punch.

  “We’re done here,” Ty said calmly, like he hadn’t just punched a guy hard enough for his brains to scramble. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”

  I looked at Jack, his face bleeding, but looking like he was about to recover. He was moving. He was breathing. I guess that was all I really needed to know.

  Ty was already making his way to his truck when I finally started to walk again.

  Son-of-a-bitch!

  “Why in the hell did you do that?” I asked Ty as I caught up with him.

  He shrugged. “You were hesitating. You were obviously conflicted. I wasn’t.” He hesitated before he added, “I want you healthy for the season, and I don’t want you landing in jail. Our backup quarterback sucks.”

  I wasn’t used to anybody helping me out, so I was
n’t sure what to say.

  “Thanks,” I answered simply.

  He acknowledged my gratitude with a nod, and we didn’t talk about it again for the rest of the day.

  CHAPTER 19

  Lauren

  I stood on a grassy area next to a small airfield in Northern California and closed my eyes, turning my face toward the warmth of the sun. It had been 29 days, 696 hours, 41,760 minutes, or 2,505,600 seconds since I’d woken up and realized I’d lost Graham. No calls. No texts. He’d cut me from his life—exactly the way I’d known he would.

  Leaving the chalet had been hard for me because I’d wanted to believe he would return, when he didn’t, I’d headed back to my dad’s. I’d spent the next few days wandering around in confused shock. Every text I sent him, every voicemail I left, would surely change his mind.

  Anger followed desperation. I left him hateful messages and told my father I never wanted to see Graham or Jack again. Dad said I’d feel differently in time. He didn’t ask me what had happened. On some level, he knew there was nothing he could say. Probably because Jack told him about Hope—not the details or imagery I was subjected to—but enough that Dad looked like he felt sorry for all of us. Graham had never let himself get super close to my father, but Dad cared about him. I didn’t say anything about what had happened between me and Graham. Even though I was angry with Graham, I hated the idea of him losing another person.

  My phone rang. I considered letting it ring through but from the tone I knew it was Kelley. I’d seen her once when I’d first arrived in California, but she was only part of the reason I was in that state. I dug my phone out of the inside pocket of my light jacket. “Hey, I’m waiting to be called so I may have to abruptly hang up.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I ended up enjoying scuba diving.”

  “I’d feel a lot safer if you started with a tandem jump.”

  No way. Being strapped to an instructor, relying on that person to make me less afraid was the opposite of what I was systematically proving to myself. “Don’t worry, I’m fully certified to jump, having passed the courses and clocked several hours in the simulator.”

  “Yes. Yes. On paper you’re ready, but I’m sure it’s an entirely different experience when you’re 12,000 feet and falling.”

  “I’ll tell you when I know.”

  Kelley sighed. “I just want to make sure you’re doing this for the right reason.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Because you want to experience free falling and a rush of adrenaline.”

  I’ve already done that—emotionally and it didn’t turn out well, but I kept that thought to myself. The more I said, the more she worried. “Why else would I be here?”

  Kelley took a moment before answering. “Because you think doing everything on the list Graham gave you will bring him back to you.”

  “I realize it won’t.”

  “Or worse—you’re hoping something off that list gets you seriously hurt—and he’ll return out of guilt or fear.”

  “I would never do that and this is not about Graham.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or yourself. Tell me again why you’re about to jump out of a plane because my friend Lauren would never do that.”

  I watched a plane take off with a group of jumpers and hated how much it hurt not to have Graham there with me. He should have been right there, making me laugh so I wouldn’t over-think. But he wasn’t. “Graham wrote the list because he knew I needed this. There are a multitude of solutions to any given problem. Sure, it would have been nice to complete the list with him, but he won’t even take my calls so that option is not available at this time.”

  “You’re hurting. Admit it. It’s okay to be.”

  My hand clenched on the phone. “I am angry and hurt and confused and sad. None of those feelings, however, make the list less valuable of a tool. I have a few weeks left before I go to the Washington think-tank. I need to clear my head before I do.” My instructor waved for me to join him with a group of three others. “It’s time. I’ll call you later.”

  “Be careful, Lauren.”

  “Don’t worry. The probability of me dying from a car crash on my way home is higher than that of my parachute not opening. You’re statistically more likely to fall down the stairs at your office building.”

  Kelley chuckled. “I know. Good talk. Call me later.”

  I hung up, replaced my phone in the zippered inner pocket of my jacket and headed over to my jump group.

  “How do you feel?” my instructor asked in encouragement. He was in his late twenties, physically fit with the lean body of a runner, and obviously attractive to the other women in the group. They’d been flirting and hanging on his every word all through the course. Even though he looked like he could model on the side, I felt nothing when I looked at him. He’s not Graham.

  “I’m ready.”

  As a group we walked to a rigging tent where we put on our harnesses and parachute. Then off to the plane. Last minute advice: keep your head back, knees bent, jump. Stay together. Remember hand signals and the cue to open the chute. Bring arms to chest as the parachute opens.

  I ducked beneath the tail of the plane and smelled burnt rubber. I almost asked for the flight and maintenance log, but I stopped myself. My instructor motioned for me to enter the plane first. I closed my hand around a metal handle and forced my feet up the ladder, rung by rung.

  I was in. I sat on one of the benches. The two women looked nervous now. The man sat beside me on the bench. “This is my second first time,” he said with a wide, toothy smile. He was older than any of us, maybe in his late forties. If I had to guess, he’d spent most of his life in an office. He wasn’t overweight, but he was pale and soft looking. “I didn’t jump the first time. The woman next to me started hyperventilating and I choked. This time I’m choosing a better flight partner.”

  I was no one’s partner, but I didn’t want to say that and be the reason he failed to jump a second time. “There are very few documented deaths from sky diving. Although, considering your age and gender, I’m sure you had a physical. Still, your beta receptors will respond to the adrenaline release by increasing your heart rate. A panic attack can mimic many of the symptoms of heart failure.” I noticed the man growing paler with each word I said. “You’ll be fine.”

  He nodded.

  My instructor sat at my other side and smiled. “You look as cool as a cucumber. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

  I met his eyes. “I’m terrified, but I’m not letting it stop me.”

  He nodded. “That’s what this is all about. People usually come here after having a life changing event or while gearing up for one. Which are you?”

  The door closed before I had a chance to answer. The plane bounced down the runway. Squashed onto one of two benches I reminded myself to breathe deeply. I checked my goggles and tried to clear my head.

  I’d once found the idea of being close to one hundred feet below sea level inconceivable, but I went there and it was undeniably a life changing experience. This would be, too. And hopefully, I would be stronger because of both.

  I needed to be stronger.

  I refused to give in to the pain of losing Graham. He’d hurt me, but it was my choice if that broke me or not.

  We shot up into the sky. I looked at the now green man to my right, then the excited instructor to my left. “You love this, don’t you?” I asked.

  My instructor smiled. “It never gets old. Every jump is just as good as my first. It’s an addictive rush if you can get past the fear.”

  I thought about Graham and how it had felt to be with him. “I fucked my best friend and now he won’t talk to me. I can’t imagine my life without him, but I don’t want to be afraid. That’s why I’m here.”

  “M
y wife left me for her plastic surgeon,” Mr. Office Man said.

  The brunette woman across from me contributed, “I’m turning thirty.”

  “I found a lump,” the blonde woman next to her said and we all fell quiet.

  I hadn’t realized they’d all be able to hear me. Had we bared our souls because we weren’t sure we’d survive? I looked at the instructor again and wondered if every flight involved this level of confession.

  He gave me a long steady look. “Your friend’s an asshole.”

  “He’s not. He’s just scared. A lot of people have disappointed him.”

  “You one of them?”

  “No.”

  “Forget him.”

  “I don’t want to.” I love him.

  The instructor stood and nodded toward the door. He rattled off instructions again and we followed him to the door. Office Man tapped my shoulder. The door opened and he had to yell near my ear to be heard. “I would marry my ex all over again even knowing how it would turn out.” He stepped past me, received a signal and jumped out of the plane. The two women went before me.

  I made the mistake of looking down from the plane and tensed. Time slowed. Suddenly there was no way I could imagine doing anything but returning to the bench. I stood there for what seemed like forever, but was likely only an additional second or two before the instructor said loudly into my ear, “I can’t push you out. Jump or sit back down.”

  I’ve never been a spontaneous person. I measured the risk. I studied the stats. And until sleeping with Graham I would have chosen to sit. There was no rational reason for me to risk bodily injury. No one would care if I didn’t jump. No one would even need to know.

  But I would know.

  Life was full of unknowns and difficult choices. My co-jumpers were prime examples of people at such crossroads. None of them were letting life beat them.

  I adjusted my goggles, bent my knees and jumped. Somewhere between regaining my ability to breathe, following the instructor’s directions, and clenching my anus so I wouldn’t shit myself—I decided I was done waiting for Graham to come to me.

  I needed to return to Denver before heading to Washington for a week. If Graham really wanted our friendship to be over, he would have to say it—to my face.