Playing For Forever

by J. C. Grant

  He set our plates down and came around the island, watching me all the while. It felt as if those eyes could peel layers of me away until I was completely exposed, right down to that confused, scared little girl deep down inside me. Nowhere to hide.

  He settled in the chair, his penetrating gaze still on me, making me incredibly uncomfortable.

  “So what's going on?” he probed, his voice was quiet, but solemn.

  “Nothing’s going on. You're leaving tomorrow,” I answered, not looking away from my plate.

  “We are leaving tomorrow.”

  I hesitated for a moment, then decided, fuck it.

  “No,” I said slowly. “You are.” I finally looked over at him. “I have a cover shoot scheduled for Wednesday.”

  His jaw clenched. “Since when?”

  He watched me for a moment, and when I started to respond, he grabbed his phone and stood, bracing a hand on the edge of the island, his back to me.

  “What the fuck is she talking about, Elaine? She has a cover shoot?” he questioned our publicist.

  David fell silent for a moment, his breathing harsh in the quiet room. I watched his back rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Then he turned to me, his intense gaze piercing through me. A dozen emotions moved across his face, the most prominent being hurt and betrayal, before he walked away from me, heading toward our bedroom.

  I was torn between following him and at least listening to his side of the conversation and sitting there, working out how to plead my case. He was going to think this was planned. He was going to think this was something deeper than it was. He was going to be hurt.

  He’s already hurt.

  Placing my elbows on the kitchen island, I let my head fall into my hands as I tried to think.

  A sinking sensation crawled through me as I realized Elaine and I had planned it. We had intentionally kept it from him until the last minute.

  It was a shitty thing to do.

  Of course he’s hurt.

  I didn’t have the first clue how to balance being with David and pursuing a career.

  It’s only a problem because our schedules conflicted this time, I lied to myself.

  My immediate concern was David thinking I didn’t want to go with him—that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I wanted to go to Italy with David, much more than I wanted to do a local magazine cover. But it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up—correction—an opportunity I was in no position to pass up, if I wanted to do my short film and get my career going again.

  I should have told him the truth from the start.

  I swore to be honest. I wanted us both to be honest and say how we felt. Communicate better. But I didn't have the first idea how to start doing that. It wasn't in my nature to share, or talk about anything at all, really.

  David

  “Did she ask for this?” I demanded, pacing the length of our bedroom.

  “Shit,” Elaine muttered under her breath.

  “She asked for this?” I repeated, my voice growing louder.

  If Austin asked for this...

  “No, David, she didn't ask for this,” she answered patiently, almost as if talking to a child, like she was trying to handle me, which just pissed me off more.

  “What did you do?”

  Elaine sighed heavily. “They had someone else scheduled to do the cover. She canceled. Then, the replacement canceled. So I talked them into taking Austin.” Elaine’s tone shifted from suppressed annoyance to coaxing. “It's only a local magazine, but it's a huge opportunity for her. Don't freak out on her.”

  “When did you tell her about this?”

  Elaine didn’t answer immediately, but when she did her voice was even. “A week ago.”

  “Why the fuck were both of you keeping this from me?” I thundered, fearing the worst.

  “Because we knew you wouldn't agree.”

  I had to hand it to Elaine; she was staying calm for someone who just admitted she’d been hiding shit from me, lying to me.

  Fuck.

  They’d both been lying to me for a week.

  Slumping down on the end of the bed, my elbows on my knees, I let my head hang, staring at the dark hardwood floor beneath my bare feet.

  Was I pissed Austin lied to me? Fuck yes. But I was more pissed that she had treated me like one of her exes. Because that shit when she came in the kitchen was choreographed, like she’d done it a hundred times.

  Maybe it was my fault. I’d let her evade my questions, let her use sex to avoid answering me. Over and over again. Now, I was scared of what it all meant.

  “Did she not want to go with me?” I pressed, avoiding asking my real question, Is she trying to get away from me?

  “No, she wanted to go with you.”

  The way she said it... Austin wanted to go with me, but Elaine had changed her mind. My fears eased as that sank in.

  She continued, “I'm going to tell you the same thing I told her. You're going to be there for twenty-four hours, and you're going to be working the entire time. So why drag her with you?”

  I didn’t respond, I was too pissed. And the answer was obvious; I wanted Austin with me because she was my wife, because she was mine. I always wanted her with me. And Elaine fucking knew it.

  “And you have to do the campaign for your cologne line when you get home. You cannot extend your stay in Italy. And I know you. You're going to want her with you for that all-day shoot. So just back off on this,” she tried to convince me.

  “Back off on this or what?” I gritted, furious she was so nonchalant about separating us, completely oblivious to our needs. There was a reason Austin and I spent so much time together. We needed the constant connection, the reassurance—at least I did.

  “David,” she sighed. “Let her do this. You go to Italy—it's only for three days—and I think you guys need a little bit of space. I think it would be really good for you.” Her voice turned soft and hesitant. “I hope you realize she's not going with you to all your games.”

  My pulse ground to a halt.

  “What do you mean she's not going with me to all my games?” I asked cautiously. “Did she say something to you?”

  “No. It’s just not realistic. And you've been worried about smothering her,” Elaine reminded me. “Just connecting the dots.”

  She wasn't wrong. I had been worried about smothering Austin and controlling her too much. But I thought we’d resolved that problem.

  Obviously, I’d been fooling myself. Because my wife lying to me, wanting space and treating me like any average asshole were serious problems as far as I was concerned.

  What I didn’t understand was why Austin hadn’t told me. I would have given anything to make her happy, done anything she wanted.

  Maybe she doesn't know what the fuck she wants.

  Which was perfect for me. It gave me the opportunity to show her what she wanted. But now I had to get Fergus to watch her 24/7 for the next three days. I wasn't looking forward to that—Austin spending time with him instead of me.

  And there was no way around it.

  Dawn—my last arrangement—her thirty-day hold was up tomorrow. Apparently, she was being released into a drug rehab facility, which was damn near a resort. Well... it was nowhere near as secure as the facility she was currently at with its prison-like lockdown. And if she did well in inpatient treatment, she would be released to outpatient, which meant she would be free to run around town. We still had a restraining order, but that was worthless when it came to actual protection. So Fergus would be attached to Austin’s ass for the foreseeable future.

  “Okay, fine,” I relented. “But I want you there with her. And I wanna see what she looks like before she steps in front of the camera.”

  “You're completely ridiculous, but I guess she knows that."

  “Are you gonna do it or not?” I barked, not amused at all.

  She had no idea what she was doing to us—to me, anyway—separating us for the first time. I knew mos
t people wouldn’t understand our relationship. Most wouldn’t think three days apart was a big deal.

  We weren’t most people.

  “Yes, David. I'll do it,” she relented softly.

  Ending the call, I took a deep breath, trying to calm down before I went back to face Austin.

  I loved married life.

  I loved being a husband.

  I loved being Austin’s husband.

  It was fucking perfect as far as I was concerned.

  But if she’d gone to this length to get space from me...

  That thought gutted me. I wanted her to want to be with me. I wanted her to want me, like I wanted her. Obsessively. Desperately. Irrationally.

  Running my hands through my hair, I blew out a harsh breath.

  Doesn’t matter.

  She could run all she wanted, I’d chase her. I’d always chase her. Till the day she died. I’d never let her go. I seriously wasn’t above chaining her ass in the bedroom and waiting for Stockholm syndrome to kick in.

  I even knew where I’d anchor the chain.

  Austin

  David’s deep voice carried down the hall, filling the silent room. It was hushed fury as he interrogated Elaine.

  He. Was. Pissed.

  My heart rate kicked up when I heard his feet slapping against the floor as he made his way back, his barely restrained anger obvious in each step.

  “You ask for this?” he demanded when he neared me.

  “No. At first, I said no,” I quickly explained as he leaned against the kitchen island, looming over me, staring me down. “But we’re not going to have time to do anything in Italy, anyway.”

  “I want you with me.” His voice was hard. “I don't wanna go without you. I don't wanna fucking go anywhere without you.”

  Stunned, I sat there silently. I could see it in his eyes, he wasn’t just angry, he was disappointed in me.

  Abruptly, he pushed off the island, coming around, sitting heavily in his chair. He stared at his food for a long time before he asked me, “Not plannin’ on going to my games?”

  “I don't think I can go to all of them.” My voice was small and quiet. “And I don't think it's realistic for me to go to all of your away games. And I wanted to do a short film—”

  His dark eyes cut to me, his expression stopping me short.

  Trying to explain in a way he might understand, I admitted, “I'm afraid if I lose myself in you, I'll hate myself and you.”

  He turned back to his food, placing his elbows on the counter, leaning forward, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. His eyes closed, and he took long, slow, deep breaths as I waited anxiously for his response. His posture and demeanor made me feel like he was trying to block me out, but I hoped he was just seriously considering my words.

  After what felt like an eternity, he asked, “You want this?” His tone was a mixture of defeated and weary with an underlying bite of challenge. “This the distance you want?”

  There was an ache in my chest, knowing I hurt him. Again. Then that pain was quickly overshadowed by frustration. At him and me. Because I wanted him to be able to read my mind.

  Was that too fucking much to ask?

  “I don't want distance. I want space!” I shouted, frustrated at having to explain myself.

  Which was completely irrational.

  David turned in his chair, facing me, his jaw clenched. “If I give you space, you're gonna create distance!" David shot back, not missing a beat.

  Realization slammed into me hard.

  He was right.

  A couple of days away from him and I would start shutting down. I'd miss him. It would hurt. And I'd push him way to protect myself.

  “I didn't want three days. I wanted three hours!” I yelled, getting more frustrated the more I had to explain.

  Why can't he just read my mind?

  His expression softened. “What?”

  Our eyes stayed locked, but I didn't respond. He heard me, he just wasn't expecting my response.

  “You just want three hours a day?” he checked.

  “Yeah, David,” I answered, still annoyed. Half a second later, I softened. “And you're right. Days apart won’t be good for me—us,” I corrected.

  He studied me, his eyes searching for the truth. He let out a heavy sigh, visibly deflating as his gaze slid to the counter.

  He was silent for a long moment.

  “You didn't ask for this,” he muttered, as if he’d just put that together on his own, as if I hadn't told him exactly that minutes before.

  My eyes rolled in annoyance.

  He picked his phone up off the counter and texted someone.

  “Okay." He looked over at me. “We'll get the short film done before the season starts. You can do your thing, I can do my thing, and we won't have to be apart.”

  “Okay.” I perked up, more than happy with his solution. “Elaine's going to talk to some investors about it this weekend. So I'll do...” I didn't actually know what the hell I was going to do, so I just agreed. “I'll do it all before the season starts.”

  “Good. Eat. We gotta go up to the stadium and sign the contract, then go to the gym. And then I need to fuck you as much as possible before I leave tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” My voice was small as I spoke through a growing grin.

  It was a lot easier than I thought, telling him how I felt. And it felt better than I’d imagined.

  I just hoped it would continue to be that easy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As soon as we stepped into the lobby, we were greeted by a stunning brunette, who wasted no time leading us through the sleek modern halls of the executive offices. David had assured me repeatedly before we left the house this was not a formal meeting. He'd texted his manager and agent to let them know he wanted this to be as quick as possible. No photos. Nothing ceremonial. He was signing quickly and we were leaving.

  When we reached the office, there were six men sitting around a long oval table.

  Immediately, I felt uncomfortable in my yoga pants and David's baggy hoodie with only my sports bra on underneath. It was clear from their attire it had been intended to be formal meeting if not a photo op.

  “Is it good??” David asked.

  Two men at the far end, one in an elegant black suit, the other in a white button-up shirt and jeans, spoke up. “Yes, everything you asked for. Plus some.”

  “Cool,” David muttered as he walked over to the stack of papers on the table. “Guys, this is Austin. Austin, this is my agent, Martin.” David nodded toward the one in the suit, then the one in the button-up shirt. “And my manager, Scott.”

  I had a moment of embarrassment as I remembered David walking out on his manager because of me.

  “Hi,” I muttered meekly as I shifted, until I was half-hidden behind David.

  A soft rumbling laugh shook David's chest, a cocky satisfied sound. He disentangled our fingers and placed my hand on his lower back.

  Instinctively, my fingers tucked in his waistband, as if hanging on.

  And just like that, I felt like a child, insecure and scared, clinging to David for direction and protection in a room full of strange men. I tucked in closer to his side. His arm reached across me, his broad palm rubbing up and down my outer thigh, soothing me.

  His manager handed him a pen, and he leaned down, exposing me to the room as he glanced over several papers, signing them. It seemed like an eternity to me. I felt like I was under scrutiny in that room, underdressed and the only woman.

  But within seconds, David stood up and said, “Thanks, see ya later.” He gripped my hand and led me out into the desolate hallway.

  “I should have dressed nicer," I whispered when we reached the elevator.

  “Why? You look hot.” He looked me over. His eyebrows pulled together, and he reached out, tugging my zipper down an inch. “You don't have a shirt on?”

  “I have a sports bra on.”

  “You're putting on a shirt when we get to th
e gym,” he said with finality as he zipped my hoodie back up.

  All the way up.

  Automatically, I started to lower the zipper, but David's warning look stopped me.

  “It's uncomfortable,” I explained.

  “It's baggy,” he argued.

  “It's yours,” I said sweetly, trying a different tactic.

  He looked it over closely, and I saw something flash in his eyes before he relented, “Fine.”

  Hesitantly, I lowered the zipper three inches as he watched me carefully. His expression was stoic, but his eyes... the look was almost challenging.

  Like I would even.

  Then, half a second later, I remembered the last time he dared me to wear something too revealing and how that turned out.

  Before David, I was always careful about how much skin I revealed, never modest but always conscious. Never would've considered being overly showy with my body—outside a controlled environment, i.e. work. But with David I felt safe. I felt like I could run down the street naked and nothing bad would happen to me. For the first time since I was a little girl, I felt carefree.

  I realized then, David had done the impossible: he'd set me free.

  “What're you thinking?” he asked, his inquisitive gaze piercing through me.

  “Why?” I replied coyly, my mouth curving up on one side.

  His eyes narrowed as he studied me, a boyish grin forming on his too handsome face. “You look... happy.”

  I didn't respond.

  Mostly because the stadium didn't seem like the right place to get into that kind of conversation, but also because I still wasn't exactly comfortable talking about my feelings with David, much less in public. So, I ignored my profound moment of enlightenment and continued with my devilish plans.

  Smirking, I slowly lowered the zipper until it was sitting below my bra.

  His jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed. Seamlessly, turning right back into my dominant alpha male.