Playing the Field

by C. J. Pinard

  I raised a pale eyebrow as she ended the call and threw her cell back to the nightstand.

  “So?” I asked, the suspense killing me.

  Miranda took a big breath, her trembling hand still holding the sheet up around her bare chest, as she swiped a few tears away from her face with the back of her hand. “Turns out Riley’s not the big jerk we all thought he was.”

  I nodded. “Go on.”

  “I guess when he was in Afghanistan, a roadside bomb went off in his vehicle, and…” her voice hitched with emotion and she pursed her lips together to keep from sobbing as she retold what Cara had just told her. “I guess two of his friends died, and he was on fire for a few seconds.” She took a big, shuddering breath. “Jace, that guy didn’t look like that when he left here. He’s been seriously injured.”

  I sighed. I’d seen it before. Burn scars were a cruel reminder of someone’s service to their country, and roadside bombs were the worst. I looked at my new wife. “So, what’s with his story about meeting another girl?”

  Miranda wiped her nose with the Kleenex. “He lied to her, didn’t think he deserved her, lied and said he had met someone and didn’t want to be with her.” She was staring at the comforter again, her eyes glazed over as if she were remembering. Then her gaze flicked back to mine. “It all makes sense, Jace. He wouldn’t see her when he got back. He even got back like a month early, which I thought was weird, but whatever, I didn’t give it much thought back then. He wouldn’t see her because of this.” Her fingers were lightly resting on her bottom lip. “Dammit. Poor Riley. I can’t believe what those two have been through.” She smiled behind her fingers, then looked into my eyes. “Cara doesn’t care though. She’s mad at him for the lie, but she sounded so damn happy to have him back. She doesn’t care about his scars. Damn… she must love the hell out of the guy.” Miranda shook her head, her eyes flicking between mine.

  I smiled. “Sounds like everyone is getting their happily ever after.”

  Sliding her body closer to mine, she dropped the sheet and pushed me on my back on the bed. “That’s what it sounds like. Thank you for my happily ever after, Jace. I love you so much.”

  “You’re welcome, baby. I love you, too.”

  Her mouth pressed against mine, and I returned the kiss. She was completely naked under the sheet, and when her wetness rubbed against my thigh, I grabbed her hips and pushed her down onto me, positioning her over my manhood and relishing in the feel of her grinding on me.

  Sliding my hands down her hips, I gripped both her deliciously thick thighs, still kissing her with everything I had. My tongue was playing with hers, our breaths matching in intensity. I took my left hand and slowly moved it up her thigh, over her hip, then her waist. I felt goose bumps pepper her skin as I continued to move higher. I laid a hand on her breast, my hand embracing the delicate, fleshy mound of sexuality. When my thumb found her pink nipple and began moving over its tip, Miranda let out a moan and her head flew back, the sexiest sight I have ever seen. I continued to move my hand up, laying feather-light touches across her collarbone, then up her neck, resting my hand on her jawline. I pulled her face down to mine, and as I went to kiss her again, I felt her impale me, pushing her sweet, hot wetness all the way to the hilt. I gasped in surprise, then groaned as she began to slowly buck her hips on me.

  I kissed her again.

  Grabbing both hands, I intertwined them with mine, finger for finger, moving my hips in time with hers as the pleasurable pressure began to build inside of me. Miranda was moaning softly, and I was already close. The old joke was to think about baseball to stave off the inevitable climax, and while that should work for me, as it was something close to work, it didn’t. As soon as my beautiful bride cried out and clenched her body around mine, I let go, too, my hands gripping her waist, my fingers digging into her fleshy hips as I lost myself inside of her, the intense pleasure turning my brain into nothing more than a whirlwind of pleasure and love.

  Chapter 17

  “You’re fucking kidding me right now,” I heard the guy next to me mutter as we were all standing stick-straight in formation. Our commanding officer had called us all into the mess hall, and when they’d said we were to meet there at 1300 hours on a Friday, I knew it couldn’t be good.

  “Six months, tops,” my CO said. “You bastards are lucky it’s only six months. My last two have been a year.”

  I resisted the urge to shake my head. A six-month deployment was going to destroy Miranda. I was lucky enough to get her to agree to marry me, let alone accept my reserve service. I had little more than a year left on my contract, and while I was at war with myself on whether I was gonna re-enlist, I knew in my heart I probably wasn’t; I didn’t want to risk deployment now with a wife and stepdaughter to care for. But now it seemed life was happening while I was busy making other plans. A six-month deployment to the Middle East, and my new wife was gonna murder me in my sleep when she found out.

  Our CO dismissed us, and with the positivity draining quickly out of me, I tried my hardest not to be a negative asshole about this deployment. It would hopefully be my last, so I told myself to just suck it up and do what the government was paying me to do. Luckily it was winter, and this wouldn’t affect my baseball job very much. That being said, I think I was done with baseball, too. After I got back from the Middle East, I didn’t have any plans on renewing my minor league contract. I didn’t see any major league teams looking to pick me up – not that I’d expected them to – but it was time to grow the hell up and pick a path for my life and stick to it. It was with this resolve that I decided to march my ass home, and with my chin held high, tell Miranda that her new husband would be gone for six months, then beg her to be here when I got back.

  ***

  “Are you shitting me, Jace?” Miranda squealed, pointing the wooden spoon at me, red drips of spaghetti sauce flinging from it. I kept a close eye on it, hoping it wouldn’t come flying in my direction.

  I set my pack down in the dining room, craning my neck to look over my shoulder and then back at her. “Watch your mouth, woman. Your daughter is in the next room.”

  She set the spoon in the skillet then raked a hand through her hair. Her shaky voice was colored in emotion. “Jace, this sucks. I didn’t sign up for this.”

  I walked over to her, my camouflage uniform still pristinely buttoned up. With a dimpled smirk, I said, “Oh yes, you did, pretty lady.”

  My hands were around her waist and she stiffened under my touch. “Yes and no, Jace. I had purposely avoided military men for this reason when I’d met you. I’m still not sure I forgive you for lying to me all those times.”

  I heaved out a heavy sigh, removing my hands from her waist. “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “Withholding the truth is almost the same thing, Jason,” she said, using my full name. She turned around and went back to her cooking.

  I spun her around. “Speaking of Jason, have you heard from your ex?” I asked. While I thought he should do the right thing and step up to the plate where his daughter was concerned, I knew deep down it was easier on us as a couple – as a family – if he just stayed away.

  She sighed. “I got a couple hundred from him in the mail the other day.”

  I didn’t want to get involved in the ugly details of her and her ex and his refusal to pay child support on a regular basis, but as the man of this brand new family, I sort of felt an obligation.

  “Why is he so inconsistent?”

  She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I really have no idea. I know he loves Ashlynn, but since moving 7 hours away, it’s like he’s done with his responsibility to her. I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it.”

  I felt like my blood was going to boil under my skin. “He has no excuse, Miranda, so stop making them for him.”

  She nodded. “I’m not trying to. Just trying to make heads or tails of it myself.”

  I guess I could understand that, but it was still no excuse. If I ever
saw that Jason guy myself, I’d kick his ass twice, just to remind him what a douchebag he’s been to his ex and his daughter. Dislike the ex, that’s fine, but when you create a life in this world, there was little excuse for being a derelict in my book, especially when someone lived within driving distance.

  “You’re changing the subject,” she said quietly, her back to me as she squeezed some fresh garlic from her shiny silver garlic press into the skillet and began to stir.

  God this woman was so perfect. Her cooking was better than any I’d tasted, not including my mother of course, and she was beautiful and strong-willed.

  She placed a large, flat lid over the skillet and wiped her hands on a towel. Turning around, she folded her arms over her chest. “So, when the hell do you leave?”

  I threw her one of my charming smiles, hoping it would soften the blow. I saw her face waver a little, but for the most part, she kept her impassive mask in place.

  “In three weeks.”

  “What!” she squealed. She shook her head. “That’s hardly enough time. We just got married.”

  “At least I’ll be here for our first Christmas,” I said.

  “Yes, but you’ll be gone for Ash’s birthday at the end of January.”

  “I know when her birthday is, Miranda, and yes I’ll be gone, and I’m sorry. We’ll Skype, okay?”

  “It’s my birthday!” I heard Ashlynn say from the doorway to the kitchen. The little eavesdropper had two pigtails on either side of her head and her big innocent eyes were smiling proudly at me. She was holding a dark-skinned Barbie doll.

  Miranda smiled and scooped her up. “No, baby, it’s not your birthday yet. It will be in a few weeks.”

  “I want a princess party!” she said.

  Laughing, Miranda touched the tip of her daughter’s nose. “You can have a princess party, baby girl.”

  Ashlynn pointed at me. “Jace, you come to my princess party?”

  Her excitement broke my heart. I so wanted to be at her princess party. I swallowed hard, and just said, “Maybe, sweetheart.”

  ***

  My heart was heavy. Miranda was being cold and distant to me. I tried to talk to her, but it just went nowhere. I knew she was pissed off at me about the deployment and was giving me the silent treatment, but that didn’t cushion the blow. That being said, it didn’t make me love her any less, it just heightened the ache. The thing was, I wasn’t even mad at her. I understood her anguish and pain. I just wished there was something I could do to lessen it for her. She was right when she said she hadn’t signed up for this. Yes, she knew I was a reservist, but probably didn’t think my unit would get deployed. She had probably lived in a blissful ignorance, as I had for the past two years.

  But hadn’t her friend Cara’s Army boyfriend been deployed during his reserve time? Maybe Miranda didn’t think that hard about it. I just wanted to know who had hurt her. Who had made her shy away from men in the service? I guess that was neither here nor there anymore. She had married me, and now the honeymoon was over, the reality of real, ugly life slamming into us full-force. I suppose this was our first real test as a couple.

  I knew Miranda loved me. I had never seen anyone look at me like that. Not even Sam. No, she had seemed more interested in what I could give her, what I could do for her, than true love, whose true definition was caring about someone more than you cared about yourself. I loved Miranda like that. The sight of her twisted my gut every time I laid eyes on her. Her voice was a melody that sang to my heart every time she spoke. No, I knew she couldn’t stay mad at me. It didn’t make this any easier, though. In fact, I was sure that during my deployment, I was gonna be flat-out miserable not being able to touch her and love her body.

  Miranda seemed excited to spend Christmas Eve with my family and me.

  “Hi!” my mom said, her blue eyes alight with happiness that I’d brought Miranda and Ashlynn with me to our family Christmas gathering on Christmas Eve.

  “Where’s Addy?” I heard Ashlynn say. I looked down at my gorgeous stepdaughter to see her looking around. She was fumbling with the bow on the front of her silky red dress.

  My mom’s face fell. “Addison’s not here, sweetie. But she’ll be here tomorrow with her daddy.”

  I briefly wondered how Jory had managed to get Christmas day with his daughter, then flicked the thought away. There were other things to deal with.

  Ashlynn buried her face into her mother’s long, black dress.

  My gaze drifted back to my mother. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

  She smiled. “Merry Christmas, Jace. You gonna be here tomorrow?”

  I was thrown off by the question. I thought I’d already told her of our plans. “No, I’m sorry. We’ll be at Miranda’s parents’ home.”

  A look of disappointment flashed through my mom’s eyes, then she planted on her motherly smile. “That’s fine, hun. You’re married now. Guess I have to share my handsome son.”

  She smiled as I grinned back. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  Christmas that year was magical, like everything I had thought it would be when I was a kid. But I had grown up now, and while it seemed on the surface I had everything I ever wanted or needed, I didn’t. Miranda still was mad at me, and I wouldn’t be happy until she forgave me and said she’d be here for me once I left the country for 6 months.

  I still dropped a ton of cash on a diamond bracelet for her for Christmas. I could tell she loved it, she thanked me, but we didn’t say much more that day. It was a nice Christmas at her parents’, and she wore the bracelet, showing it off to her family, but there was still a huge, ugly wedge between us.

  Chapter 18

  My heart was full. I had a wife, a new daughter, and a family who loved me. I just wished that my wife was speaking to me. I never knew the ‘silent treatment’ could hurt like this. It was like Miranda was doing what was obligated of her, and nothing more. She didn’t speak to me much at home. The only words spoken were businesslike, such as “Do you want more spaghetti?” and “Can you take Ash to daycare tomorrow? I have an appointment.” It wounded me deeply, but I knew why she was doing it; she was punishing me for the upcoming deployment.

  My chest was heavy and my thoughts were clouded. I had to do this, I had to leave, but how was I gonna make it easy on my new bride? I didn’t know. All I knew was that she had better accept it. She had married me for better or for worse, and while that’s a romantic notion on the surface, I knew deep down that those words held an ugly truth that could manifest itself into an even uglier reality if you really sat and thought about them. If you really let them settle into your mind. One day you might be living them.

  The “better” was easy, the “worse” was the rock bottom viciousness of life. War was hideous, and those who left to fight it didn’t always return as the same person. I hoped Miranda understood this, and even more than that, I hoped my beautiful wife understood that while I would do my damnedest to keep myself healthy and safe overseas, she needed to understand that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. I could try, I could hold on with all my might, but at the end of the day, I knew that what happens during war and deployment was out of my control. I did as I was told by the Marine Corps, and didn’t buck it. Not once, not for a minute. I hoped Miranda understood this, and hoped I wouldn’t be put in the penalty box for the next six months – or God forbid – the next year. I loved her with everything inside of me, but I also knew me. I wouldn’t put up with much of this for very long.

  Another month had gone by, and while her communications were still generic and robotic, I was glad her daughter had been warm and caring. In fact, I’m sure Ashlynn’s aloof attitude and obliviousness to the problems her mother and I were having was probably part of our saving grace. My deployment date was looming over us like a dark cloud, but Ashlynn knew nothing of this. The carefree 3-year-old was just happy to have us both home at night, and when all was said and done, there was nothing I coul
d be more thankful for.

  Miranda continued to cook for us, her wonderful meals a small, warm comfort in the big picture of what we were going through, but I could almost feel her love emanating through her meals. Was it stupid and desperate to think this way? Maybe. But I had read once that everyone had their own ‘love language.’ Maybe domestication and food was Miranda’s? It is said that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I grinned a little.

  “I’ll get the dishes,” I said one night over a meal of homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes, hoping to win her over a little.

  She waved a hand at me. “Fine.”

  The lack of intimate conversation, touches, looks, and of course sex had been wearing on me. We’d only been married a couple of months. I didn’t know it would be like this. I thought it would be all honeymoon moments, love highs, sex, and declarations of adoration. No wonder they say marriage is work. No wonder they say the first year is the hardest. I pondered these things as I loaded the dishwasher. My mom had taught us boys that marriage was a partnership. No spouse should rule over the other, that people should walk side by side and not one ruling over the other – and all of that. As I started the dishwasher, I thought deeply about these things.

  Not too much later, Miranda slid into bed after putting her daughter down for the night. I had been lying awake with my arms behind my head on the pillow, my thoughts a tornado swirling inside my head, my bare chest barely covered by a blue sheet. I was set to leave for my Middle East deployment in two days’ time.

  I felt Miranda’s warm body slip between the sheets. We hadn’t made love in forever. She had been cold and distant, and this had killed me on so many levels. Shattered me, actually.