Sidelined: A Wilde Players Dirty Romance

by Terri E. Laine

  “You can be so mean sometimes. Is that the green-eyed monster coming out of you? I actually like your blue eye better.”

  It was my turn to shrug. I ignored her statement about my bi-colored eyes. It was the best way to get people not to talk about it. “What do you want me to say? You want me to come halfway across town to some lame party for what? So you can make him jealous.”

  I didn’t have to say his name. We both knew who I was talking about. The dumbass was the reason we’d hooked up. Mr. Quarterback had left the second game of the season with a shoulder injury. Scouts had been there and he’d lost the opportunity to go to his school of choice because the injury would keep him from completing the season.

  Coach had sent me in, and I rallied the team to victory. We’d gone on weeks later to win state with me at the helm.

  Her boyfriend took out his frustrations on her by breaking up with her right before the homecoming dance. His reasons had been she wasn’t putting out. That’s when the future prom queen set her sights on me. Dumbass missed out. Because the prom queen wasn’t as frigid as he thought she was. She gave it up to me right after the homecoming dance. And we’d been sort of going out ever since. I refused to call her my girlfriend because who knew if we would move again. This was the longest we’d stayed in any one place. But having a steady girl to bang made things easier.

  “Who cares if he’s jealous?” she said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “Who’s going to be there?”

  “Seniors, of course.”

  Of course. “I’m only a sophomore.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell, making her chest bounce a little with the action. Tits were my Kryptonite. I let my eyes find hers again, and she smirked.

  “You’re the star quarterback. No one cares what grade you’re in.”

  “How am I going to get home?” No doubt the party would run late, and the buses didn’t travel out to her neighborhood much after dusk.

  “My parents will be out of town. You can sleep over, and I’ll take you home in the morning.”

  The idea of not sleeping at my house won me over. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

  She grinned and moved over to plant a kiss on my lips. I let her but didn’t take it further. I got the mechanics of how to kiss. It was a lot like sex, only fucking a girl’s mouth with my tongue. But kissing complicated things. Whenever I kissed a girl, they seemed to read a lot more in the relationship than there really was. So I’d stopped doing it.

  “See you tomorrow,” she chirped before she practically bounced out the door.

  I glanced at myself in the mirror, buying time. There was no reason to go home right now and every reason not to. Dad would be home from his current job as one of the crew on a fishing boat. He was gone in the mornings and home in the afternoons. It was better to get home later after he’d had several beers and finally passed out in his favorite chair. Still, I had nothing to do, and I’d been kicked out more than once by teachers who’d caught me in the halls too late after school. I sighed and walked as slowly as I could the few miles home.

  When I arrived, Dad’s beat-up truck wasn’t parked in the drive. My mood suddenly lightened. I wouldn’t have to hide in my room. I could get something to eat.

  Only when I walked in, Mom was there. Sandy made good on his word and sent her money every month. She quit one of her jobs and only worked at night at the bar because she made more in tips than she had as an administrative assistant at the accountant’s office in town. But she was usually gone to work by now.

  The sound of the door closing caused her eyes to lift and land on me. She’d been leaning on the counter, and she straightened. She focused red-rimmed eyes on me and my heart sank. Mom wasn’t a crier. If she had been crying, then shit was bad. Before I could ask, she moved in my direction with purpose. I’d grown a lot in the past two years, so when she wrapped her arms around my chest, the top of her head was several inches below my shoulder.

  “Kelley,” she sobbed.

  Immediately on red alert, I was unprepared for her tears. I felt helpless under their weight. Did we have to move? Had she lost her job? Had Dad died? If that last were true, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  When she didn’t answer, I created enough distance to glance in her eyes.

  “It’s Sandy.”

  The world tilted, or it felt that way.

  “Is he hurt? Is he coming home?” I asked, hopeful.

  Despite what I saw in her expression, I hoped I was right. Only, her next words would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  She shook her head. “No, he’s…he’s dead.”

  I stumbled back away from her. I bumped into Dad’s recliner and sat, not caring he’d kick my ass if he found me there. A burn started in my eyes, followed by an ache so deep, like an axe was embedded in my chest.

  “He can’t be,” I choked.

  Mom came over and hovered over me where I sat. It was her turn to comfort me as she had all my life. She wrapped her tiny arms around me and pressed my face into her chest like I did when I was little. After all, her kisses on all my cuts and scrapes would instantly heal them. Maybe she could somehow heal my broken heart. But it wouldn’t heal. That hole could never be filled. My brother, my best friend, was gone.

  I’d spoken to him the week before. He was looking forward to coming home in two years. He was tired of death, and it claimed him.

  Between sobs and maybe some of my own, muffled words of explanation came out of her. “I got the call. His funeral will be on Saturday.”

  The next few hours were a blur. I didn’t know who clung to who, Mom or me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my brother. We couldn’t afford Internet or those fancy phones. So I had only heard his voice over the years he’d been deployed overseas.

  I rocked in my chair like a mental case. I wanted nothing more than to break things. But we didn’t have much and what we did, Mom had worked hard to afford. So I yelled out my frustrations at God. Why couldn’t he have taken our father instead?

  When Dad got home, shit got real. “What the fuck, Kelley.”

  Immediately, my defenses went up, but a moment too late. The first blow came because he thought I’d caused Mom to cry. It was one of the few times he acted like he cared about her, so I took the lick, welcoming the coming numbness. My swing was all air. Dad evaded.

  Mom cried out when she stepped between us and caught the punch meant for me. Blood trickled down the corner of the mouth she covered.

  “See, boy, what you made me do.”

  I no longer believed in superheroes, but in that moment, I wished for one. Seeing Mom hurt made me reckless. I barreled into my father only to hit a brick wall. He swung up, catching me in the eye. I managed to stand tall and with my eye swelling, blindly took a swing or two, wanting my life to end knowing nothing good would come from my brother’s death.

  “James, stop. Sandy’s dead.”

  Dad listened to Mom for once and his hand dropped to his side while I panted. Mom’s words echoed in my head, and I dropped to my knees. Water leaked from my eyes as it sank down deep. He wasn’t coming home. He wouldn’t rescue us. I was Mom’s only hope.

  “What?” Dad murmured.

  “Sandy died last night from IED,” Mom answered.

  Like me, my father wanted to break something. It turned out I was the only thing he could break that would eventually mend. In my prone positon, he gave me no defense. No matter how hard I fought back, the blows rained down as I sought oblivion.

  Before it came, I yelled in my head at God and the government. My brother died for his country, making this world a safer place. Only if I lived through the nightmare, his death made me less safe. Dad was sure to continue to show his displeasure that I was his surviving son.

  READ MORE….

  SNEAK PEEK

  - Cruel & Beautiful

  #ulgycry #beautifullovestory #secondchance

  Reviews for Cruel & Beauti
ful

  "This story is just as the title reads-Cruel & Beautiful. It is a must read. BEST READ of 2015 by far! I can't even express how amazing this story is. A.M Hargrove & Terri E. Lane. You both have absolutely devoured my heart and have blown my mind. A FANTASTIC job ladies! I am in AWE!" ... Kristie from Lovenbooks

  "Beautifully tragic & emotionally charged, it's one of those books that will stay with me for a long while. It's just one of those stories that will touch you on a visceral level. It's impossible not to have it affect you, it's just that moving." Dirty Girl Romance

  "I honestly have so few words to describe what I am feeling after finishing Cruel & Beautiful. This book was everything. It was every emotion possible, and it was one of the best (if not the best!) book I have read all year." Ramblings From This Chick

  "Fantastically written with a searingly sweet romance that will captivate you, melting your heart, bringing you to your knees as you are enraptured by these characters. Sprinkled with humorous moments; this breathtaking story is a must read!!" Tsk Tsk What 2 Read

  "OhMyGod, this book blew me away, 5 stars is nowhere near enough! Cruel & Beautiful is a powerful, heartbreaking and heartwarming collaboration between A.M. Hargrove & Terri E. Laine. This has to be one of my favourites of the year. AMAZING!" Make My Day Bookclub

  "This is one of my top 2015 reads of the year! It was so heart breaking and will stay with you long after you finish reading. It hit me in all the feels and took me on the rollercoaster of a lifetime." Fictional Men's Page For Book Ho's

  Begin to read on next page.

  A RASPY VOICE WAKES me up. That’s not quite true because I don’t really sleep anymore. My body hovers in that place that’s not exactly sleep and not exactly awareness. After the last year, I’m not sure if I’ll ever get a solid night’s sleep again.

  “Cate?”

  “Yeah? What is it?” I’m instantly on high alert.

  “I think it’s time. I want to go to the hospital.”

  The words I’ve dreaded for weeks punch me in the gut. But I refuse to let him see it. “Yeah, okay. Let me get dressed.”

  “Cate? I think you need to call 911. I’m pretty sure I can’t get up to walk.” He inhales and it’s then I hear the faint rattle deep in his chest. Oh, god, how will I ever get through this?

  “Drew?” I lean over him and press my cheek against his. What used to be firm flesh is now nothing but skin wrapped around bone. My hands latch onto to his shoulders and it’s much the same. All the mass has vanished, stolen by the disease that ravages his beautiful body and soul.

  “It’s going to be fine, Cate, I promise. Things will be good. Just call 911.” He struggles to clear his throat.

  Always the positive one. I want to yell and scream, stomp my feet and smash things. But I do none of that. I look into his cloudy blue eyes that were once so clear and stunning and only nod. I pick up the bedside phone and make the call, asking the voice on the other end to tell the paramedics not to use the sirens or flashers and explain why. When they arrive at our house, I lead them to Drew, and then follow the ambulance to the hospital. On the way, I make the dreaded family calls.

  Hollow. That’s what I am as I watch them wheel Drew in on the gurney. Everything has been ripped out of me—my guts, my heart, my soul. I bite my knuckle as I stand there. He knows what’s happening. He’s a doctor. He’s charted everything out and explained it all to me, though I’ve refused to believe half of it. Why did he have to be right? My mind only wants to accept certain things. And this isn’t one of them.

  When we finally get to a room, he sleeps. The deep purple smudges beneath his eyes are a stark contrast to his pale skin. It reminds me of a time when he used to be so tanned. And his hair, which is downy fuzz grown back from the last and final round of failed chemo, is so different now from the thick mass of messy waves that were always sun streaked, even in winter. In this state, little more than a skeleton, he’s still my perfect Drew. And I ask myself again, for the thousandth time, how am I going to deal with this?

  Later in the day, when Drew wakes up, he beckons me to his bedside.

  “Cate, you know when I first saw you at that party, I knew you were my one. My it girl. And then you put up such damn resistance to me, I didn’t think I’d ever get you out on a date. But I did.”

  I suck on my lower lip, trying not to outright sob as I remember.

  The left corner of his upper lip curls, his little trademark that I love so much. It plows into me like a damn tank and I want to crawl into the bed next to him and cling to him forever.

  “I knew if I could get you out on a date, I could win you over. Thank god I did. You’ve been my life, Cate, my reason for being. I’m only sorry it all turned out like this. This,” and he motions with his hand up and down his body, “wasn’t part of my plan for you. I wanted the whole deal—marriage, and we got that, but I wanted kids, an SUV, a big house, and grandkids, too. I’m so sorry I fucked it all up, babe. But listen, I love you more than my life. And hear me out now. I want you to go home.”

  I nod and suck back my tears. “Okay. I’m going to go home and shower, because I’m kind of rank. I love you too, Drew. More than I can say.”

  “Cate, stop. That’s not what I meant. I want you to promise me something, okay? Swear to me right now.” His voice is firm, much stronger than it has been in days.

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “I want you to leave this room now and go home, but I don’t want you to come back after you shower. I want you to say your goodbyes to me right here, right now.”

  “What!? What are you saying?” My heart stutters in my throat.

  “I’m saying what you think I’m saying. I love you so much more than having you sit here by my side for the next few days. I don’t want that. You swore to me, Cate.”

  “Drew, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Now, go. Turn around, walk through that door, and don’t ever look back. All my stuff is boxed exactly like I asked you to, and you know what to do with it. My parents and yours will be here, along with Ben. But you, you don’t need to be here. I don’t want you to be here. I want you to remember me as I was, when I was healthy, during our best times. Now, look at that door and take your first steps into your new life, Cate. And promise me you’ll live. Just live, Cate. Do it for me.”

  Two years and four months later

  THE BITTER COLD SLIPS THROUGH my wool coat as if it’s mesh, causing me to hug myself tighter. As I make my way across the street, the countdown on the crosswalk sign nearly ends, and I quicken my steps. The way my luck goes these days, I won’t make it across in time. Instead, I’m likely to get run over by a tiny Smart car, of all things, because DC cabbies are just as crazy as the ones in New York. And somehow I’ll survive, only without the use of any of my limbs. .

  Just as my feet land on the curb, a cab roars by, sending a slushy wave of ice and snow against the back of my legs and the bottom half of my coat. I shiver as the cold seeps into my very bones.

  “Great,” I mutter, dusting myself off while sidestepping the ice patches that litter the sidewalks after yesterday’s winter storm. Of all the luck. Washington, DC is supposed to be the exception to northern winters, or so I’ve been told. It’s just far enough south to squeak past the worst of the northern winter weather. Much like Charleston, historically, old man winter doesn’t dump buckets of snow in the area—or at least until I decided to make this place my home.

  Yesterday’s snow nearly beat the record of earliest recorded snowfall on October 5, 1892. We’ve missed that by a grand seven days. Great for me—not. I’m not a fan of the white stuff, which is why I chose DC over the Big Apple. My needs were simple and my requirements few when I made the decision to leave South Carolina about a year ago, two of which were to be in a big city and preferably north. What I didn’t bank on is living in a place where cold is the norm more months out of the year than not. Guess the joke’s on me.

  Jarred from my inner thoughts, I take the wrong step
and end up slipping and sliding with wide arching, wind-milling arms. The comical movements do nothing to stop the momentum and I lose my footing. A hand snakes out from nowhere and takes hold of my arm while another steadies my hip. I have to glance way up to see my savior, who is somewhere in the stratosphere above me.

  Immediately, the dull gray of the day disappears and I find myself swimming in an ocean of tropical blue. Disbelief clouds my gaze because instantly I recognize the person who saved me. It’s as if fate decided to play Russian roulette with my life and I’ve finally pulled the trigger with a voracious bang.

  “Hi,” I stammer.

  The man with the aqua eyes and a face I can study forever stares at me a second longer than awkward. A wide-eyed gaze confirms he is just as surprised to see me.

  When he speaks, his voice is as deep as the shit I stand in. There is too much history between us. Yet, for a second, the sexy glint in his eyes glamours away all my reticent thoughts of the past.

  “Hi. I...ah... never expected to see you here.” That’s the understatement of the century. “On the streets of DC of all places, and me playing rescuer.” His southern drawl glides off his tongue like warm honey.

  Jostled some more by passersby, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he silently steers me out of the line of foot traffic over to the side of a building next to an ATM machine.

  Although we are both almost covered head to foot in winter gear, we are close enough that I feel the heat rolling off of him. Thoughts of the past flitter across my brain like the odd saying that someone walked over my grave, and I shiver.

  His gloved hand rubs down my arm as if he notices.

  “Are you living here now?”

  I nod stupidly because he has to be the last person I’d ever thought I would see again, especially since I’ve been mostly running away from him.