Off the Field: Bad Boy Sports Romance (5 page)

“He’s gotten a bit nuts.”

“Well, you go halfway around the world to fight a war and see how you do.”

“Is he crazy now? That PTDS or whatever?”

“It’s PTSD. And, yes, he has it.”

“He’s not going to wig out and kill us all, is he?”

“Missy!” I shot her a nasty look.

She leaned way back in her seat and closed her eyes. My thoughts drifted from her to Gunner, my stepbrother. His given name was George, but when he came back from Iraq, he asked everyone to call him Gunner. Before he left, we’d been close. Our relationship changed. I hated it, but I gave him his space.

I continued down the road, underneath a canopy of green. The sun poked through every now and then, almost hypnotizing me. After a familiar bend in the road, I saw the Easy Breeze sign in front of the ice cream shop. We were close, but I let Missy sleep.

Our destination was about a mile away – right on the edge of Lake Carmel. Mark had bought the two story cabin as a place to get away with the family or on his own. Not many people were able to afford such a piece of prime real estate. A lot of old money families lived in the hamlet.

“Missy, wake up. We’re here.”

“Huh?”

“We made it.”

She yawned and stretched as I pulled in the driveway. After parking behind Gunner’s red 1969 Mustang, his prized possession, I turned off the car. Out the front windshield, I saw Gunner across the yard at the edge of the woods that surrounded the lake.

We made eye contact. He looked away first, turning to disappear into the trees.

“He’s fucking weird,” Missy said.

I wanted to tell her to leave him the fuck alone, but I kept my mouth shut. If I made waves, we would have a very long week ahead of us. With the stress of college out of the way, I wanted to relax and recuperate before really applying myself and finding a job. Doing so would allow me to put Thomas behind me. The sooner I left him in the rear view mirror of my life the better.

“Get your bag so we can change right away,” I said, getting my suitcase out of the backseat.

“Okay, drill sergeant. You’re definitely the top.”

I laughed. “Shut up.”

“You should’ve never told me your mom thinks we’re a lesbian couple.”

“I know that now. Damn wine.”

We walked toward the impressive cabin. A porch and balcony wrapped around the structure – both levels. The views were spectacular.

“How cold is the water going to be?” she asked as we walked.

“Not too cold,” I lied.

Luckily, we’d made it inside through the sliding glass door on the back patio. The front of the cabin faced the artificial lake that had been created in the 1920s.

“You made it,” my mom said as soon as we walked into the ginormous kitchen.

“Of course we did.”

“And you brought your …” She paused and winked at me. “…friend.”

For some reason, she’d convinced herself I was a lesbian. A small part of me wondered if it was some hidden fantasy of hers. The rest of me – the sane part – avoided thinking about the idea as much as possible. I’d tried to tell her more than once that Missy was just my roommate through college and that we were living together to save money until I found a job with a suitable salary.

To her, that simply meant I was in the closet.

“Yes, Missy is here, mom. She has a name. We’re going to get changed and go swimming. What time is dinner tonight?”

“You know the schedule, dear.” A frown spread across her face. “You two girls don’t spend too much time alone up there … naked. I mean, get dressed quickly.”

Missy and I both burst into laughter. I bolted for the stairs. She followed. In the room we would share for the week, we both staked out one of the two twin size beds that were pushed together by my mother. This caused another round of laughter.

After we caught our breath, we got changed into our bathing suits. She had a plain black bikini. Mine was bright yellow, off-setting my tanned skin.

I sat down on the edge of the bed while she finished tying her top.

“Do you think I’m fat?”

“What? You’re kidding, right? I would kill for your body. I hate you.”

“All I see is fat when I look in the mirror.”

“There’s a name for that disease.”

“You ready to go swimming?” I asked, attempting to change the subject.

“Sure, honey. Then dinner with mom and dad.”

“Quit acting like my fake lesbian lover.”

She giggled. “Who says I’m acting?”

“Whatever. Can you grab some towels?”

“Sure, babe.”

I rolled my eyes.

We rushed downstairs and past my mom, who was still in the kitchen. She tried to stop us, but we bolted for the front of the house. Large windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling in the great room. Sliding doors led to the front deck. It had three tiers. The lowest one connected to a well maintained wooden dock that stuck out into the water.

As soon as we reached the end of it, we both dropped our towels. We stared at each other a moment then dashed for the water. She reached the end of the dock first, jumping up and splashing into the water. I dove into the water a few feet to her left, coming up ten feet away from her.

The water was still a bit warm, but it still refreshed me. Missy swam over. When she reached me, she splashed me while treading water.

“Shit. We forgot sunscreen,” she said suddenly.

“It’s on the dock. I brought some.”

“We should put some on.”

“Let’s go back.

She swam toward the ladder connected to one side of the dock. I followed her. When we reached it, we climbed out of the water, dripping wet. A slight breeze made me realize how little clothing I had on as my nipples hardened. I reached down and grabbed the suntan lotion when we made it to our towels. I squirted a liberal amount of my arms before handing it to her.

As she did the same, I rubbed the lotion in. The last thing I wanted was to spend the whole week dealing with sunburn. It had happened to me two years in a row. I was ready to break the curse. If Missy hadn’t remembered to bring it, I probably would’ve gotten burned to a crisp again. I watched as she rubbed it all over her body. When we were done, we grabbed our towels and headed to the beach.

The twenty or thirty feet of sand at the edge of the lake could hardly be called a beach, but it was large enough for us to lay out our towels and bake in the sun for a bit. After I had mine laid out on the sand, I saw Gunner on the second tier of the deck watching us. Missy noticed him too. She scrunched up her face and looked at me.

“That’s kinda creepy,” she said, covering herself with her towel.

“What?”

“Your stepbrother checking you out in a swimsuit.”

“Maybe he was checking you out.”

“Whatever. I can see the way he looks at you.”

“Eww. That’s gross.”

“Shhh. I want to chillax for a bit.”

She spread a towel on the dock and laid down on it. I did the same, my arms at my sides. I closed my eyes. Rays of sunlight from millions of miles away hit my skin, warming it. My mind filled with images of Gunner, my stepbrother, the man who made my heart flutter and my pussy tingle, the guy I’d never get.

Gunner

When I saw Cass and Missy standing on the dock, I wanted to go down to talk to them, but I saw they were putting on suntan lotion. The smell reminded me of Iraq and usually sent me to a very bad place in my mind. So many hot days in the sun on the base led to me and many others walking around smelling like the beach. Now, the scent reminded me of mortars fired into our camp.

I watched them for a minute or two. They both seemed so happy. If they’d seen half of what I’d seen while in the Marines, I doubted they would feel the same. Missy noticed me watching them and pointed in my direction. Cass looked directly at me. With a frown, I turned around and headed back toward the cabin. Instead of going in, I walked around the house and headed back into the woods.

At twenty-four years old, I should have been interested in partying, having fun and planning the rest of my life. After getting back from Iraq, all I could think about was how fucked up the world was. Once in the woods, protected by the trees, I pulled my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. A moment later, I had a joint lit and inhaled deeply.

My doctors told me that weed wouldn’t help with my PTSD. What the fuck do they know? I thought as I toked while leaning against a tree. After I’d seen death and destruction up close in Fallujah, nothing in the world made sense to me. Why did people have to kill each other? Did my serving in that country really help anyone?

The questions assaulted my mind one after another. When the joint was almost finished, I put it out with my thumb and forefinger then slipped it back into my cigarette pack. I wanted to run away, to just be by myself for the rest of my life, but doing so would have consequences. For one, my father would stop giving me my monthly allowance.

If I got a job I would be able to make my own way through life, but with my mind so cloudy, I found it hard to keep employment once I found it. I had tried four times recently. Each time was worse than the last. It got so bad that I just gave up. When I didn’t rock the boat and went to see a shrink every week, my dad kept putting money into my account every month.

While it was just a few grand to survive, I found that if I lived in a dump and didn’t party, I had more than enough money to keep myself high for most of the month. Coming to the lake house to pretend everything was okay wasn’t my idea of fun, but I had to show up if I wanted my father to continue to pay for the basic necessities in life.

I sighed deeply before heading out of the woods toward the cabin. If I was lucky, I would be able to sneak upstairs to my room and lay on my bed, listening to music with headphones and trying to figure out what the hell had happened to me in the Middle East. All of my memories were present, but none of them made sense when put together. As soon as I made it into the kitchen, both parents started up.

“How’s the job hunt going?” Dad asked.

“Fine,” I said as I opened the refrigerator door.

“Don’t ruin your appetite, dear,” his new wife said.

She was an okay person when she wasn’t blindly obeying my father. I treated her with respect because I cared about her daughter Cassandra. When we’d first met four years earlier, Cass and I had hit it off really well. Things changed when she went off to college and I signed up for the Marines. I missed the way things were between us, but we’d both gone our own way in life.

“What time’s dinner?” I asked after closing the refrigerator door.

“We’re eating around six,” she said in a sweet voice.

“About those jobs…” Dad said.

“I’m on it, okay? I thought you weren’t going to give me shit if I came to family week.”

“Listen, young man. You’re not going to talk to your parents like that…”

I walked across the kitchen and to the stairs. He continued talking as I ascended, but I was able to block him out for the most part. When I made it to the second floor, I heard him coming up the stairs. I tried to get to my room and shut the door, but he caught up to me before I could make it all the way in. His face looked a little flustered and his breathing was heavy from coming up the stairs so fast.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not a piggy bank for you for the rest of your life. You need to man up, son. What happened over there is still over there.”

Having never served, he didn’t know. I nodded my head, as if I was listening. When he was finally done, I closed my door and locked it as he walked away. On my bed, I tried to read a book and clear my mind, but it was impossible. I’d never forget everything I’d seen in Iraq.

♥ ♥ ♥

At dinner that first night, the five of us desperately pretended that it wasn’t awkward or weird as we sat around the massive dining room table. Dad was in his usually seat with Mom on the opposite side. I sat on his left side while Missy and Cass were across from me. The roast chicken smelled even better thanks to all the pot I’d smoked so far that day.

“How’s the job hunt going, Cass?” I asked as I passed the potatoes to her.

“Nothing yet.”

“But she’s looking and not bumming off of me,” Dad blurted out.

I stood up and left the table without saying a word. Outside in front, I headed to the lowest tier of the deck, which offered a little privacy thanks to a particularly large bush. I sat down and lit another joint. Fuck food, I thought as I inhaled deeply. My mind was already mush. The THC gave me a little clarity. Paranoia came with the package as well, but it was just a part of life, something I had to accept.

Many guys had come back worse off than me or hadn’t come back at all. The thought haunted me as I smoked. After my third hit, I heard someone approaching from above. Panic raced through my body as I stood up and started to put out the glowing tip of the joint with my thumb and forefinger. It burned a little, but I didn’t want to talk to Dad about why I was still smoking pot.