Well Played Read online

  Well Played

  Copyright by J.S. Scott and Ruth Cardello 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission.

  Cover by LoriJacksonDesign

  http://www.lorijacksondesign.com

  ISBN: 978-1-946660-55-8 (E-Book)

  ISBN: 978-1-946660-56-5 (Print)

  DEDICATION

  There is no way I could do this project and not dedicate this book to my amazing writing partner, Ruth Cardello. Ruthie, thank you for making Graham and Lauren’s book a journey instead of a project. Not only are you an incredible author and writing partner, but you are such an amazing friend. Thank you for always being there for me.

  Xxxxxxx Jan (J.S. Scott)

  I knew Jan and I would be friends from the first time we spoke.

  Jan, I was already a fan of your writing, but I soon became a fan of you as a person as well. You are generous beyond what you let most people see and I am grateful to count you as one of my closest friends. Some friends come into our lives for a short time while others become a part of us. I now cannot imagine my life without you in it. Thank you for inviting me to write with you. This book will forever have a special place in my heart—as you do.

  XOXO Ruthie (Ruth Cardello)

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1 Lauren

  CHAPTER 2 Lauren

  CHAPTER 3 Graham

  CHAPTER 4 Graham

  CHAPTER 5 Graham

  CHAPTER 6 Lauren

  CHAPTER 7 Graham

  CHAPTER 8 Graham

  CHAPTER 9 Lauren

  CHAPTER 10 Graham

  CHAPTER 11 Lauren

  CHAPTER 12 Graham

  CHAPTER 13 Graham

  CHAPTER 14 Graham

  CHAPTER 15 Lauren

  CHAPTER 16 Lauren

  CHAPTER 17 Graham

  CHAPTER 18 Graham

  CHAPTER 19 Lauren

  CHAPTER 20 Lauren

  CHAPTER 21 Graham

  CHAPTER 22 Graham

  CHAPTER 23 Graham

  CHAPTER 24 Lauren

  CHAPTER 25 Lauren

  CHAPTER 26 Lauren

  CHAPTER 27 Lauren

  CHAPTER 28 Graham

  CHAPTER 29 Graham

  CHAPTER 30 Graham

  CHAPTER 31 Graham

  CHAPTER 32 Lauren

  CHAPTER 33 Lauren

  CHAPTER 34 Graham

  CHAPTER 35 Graham

  CHAPTER 36 Lauren

  CHAPTER 37 Lauren

  CHAPTER 38 Graham

  EPILOGUE Lauren

  Preview of Release!

  CHAPTER 1

  Lauren

  Specific moments tend to embed onto your psyche. They are so traumatic, so painful, they instantly imprint onto your long-term memory.

  This was destined to be one of those moments. If I survived. If my ability to breathe returned.

  I clenched the doorknob as my brother scrambled to cover his naked ass with a pillow. He swore and told me to get out.

  I froze.

  Holy shit, nothing will ever be the same.

  Hope, the woman whose mouth was inhaling my brother’s cock, scrambled to retrieve her clothing from the floor. Her face was tomato-red. It should be. She’s engaged to Graham Morgan, my brother’s best friend.

  Or she was.

  “My lesson was canceled.” My voice was strangled as were my insides.

  “You should have said something,” Jack said in a tone he’d used once when we were much younger and I’d caught him downloading porn on my computer.

  That memory was also embedded.

  I’m not a prude, but certain societal codes of behavior should be adhered to. One: Not violating my computer or—ew—my room because you’re grounded from the Internet.

  Two: This!

  “I’m sorry—” I stopped; I wasn’t sorry. I was numb. I waited for Jack to break out in a smile. It had to be a prank. Graham and Hope’s wedding invitation had arrived two days ago. Mine was secured on the refrigerator at Dad’s place with a heart magnet. We were in Aspen to celebrate the pending nuptials as well as my graduation and Jack’s promotion. “What are you doing, Jack?”

  He shook his head without answering, and I pitied him. He usually wasn’t an asshole, at least not as assholey as he appeared with a pillow clutched to his genitals as if his nudity was the big issue.

  Clothing in hand, Hope dashed from the living room, down the hall, and into the master bedroom. I wanted to escape, too, so no judgment on my behalf.

  “Hope,” Jack bellowed.

  She didn’t stop.

  He grabbed his clothing and charged after her.

  A cold burst of air brought a flurry of snow through the opened door. It instantly melted on the dark wooden floor of the luxury chalet Graham had rented.

  We had spent weekends in Aspen, although never in a place so nice. During high school, Jack and I had scraped our pennies and rented the best discounted rooms we could afford. Graham had joined us, but we’d refused his money. He’d never talked much about his home life, but we knew it wasn’t good. Eventually, he’d stopped arguing and simply swore he’d get a huge NFL contract and repay us someday.

  He finally had, and the expense of this chalet probably balanced the account.

  On autopilot, I closed the door, unzipped my jacket, and hung it in the closet. I peeled off my boots and neatly placed them on the mat. I should have sought the warmth of the blazing fire in the stone hearth, but I still had the visual of my brother and Hope sprawled in front of it.

  I shook my head.

  That’s an image that can’t be unseen.

  The kitchen seemed like a safe destination. I poured a glass of Merlot, and even though I wasn’t a drinker, I finished it off in one long gulp.

  This can’t be happening. I gripped the counter behind me. Graham had trust issues. Jack and I were the only family he had. Jack, how could you do something this stupid? This cruel?

  I poured another glass and downed half. My stomach churned in warning.

  Voices in the living room forced me to abandon my wine and walk toward them. Although I couldn’t make out what they were saying at first, they were obviously arguing.

  Hope dropped her luggage in the foyer and retrieved her coat from the closet. I stood, silently observing. “I have to get out of here,” she said desperately. When she realized I was there, she said, “I’m sorry. Graham is on his way. I should tell him not to come, but—” She covered her face with her hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  I might have felt sorry for her if I weren’t still trying to erase a certain image from my mind. It was still disgustingly vivid. Jack wrapped his arms around her, an act that angered me.

  “You’re upset. You can’t drive like this,” Jack pleaded.

  “I have to. I need to think. This isn’t me. I don’t do things like this.” She looked for confirmation from me, but I looked away. I hadn’t known her long enough to refute or support her claim, nor did I want to be put in that position.

  “It’s going to be okay. I’ll drive you,” Jack said, as he cupped her face between his hands.

  My voice finally functioned. “What about Graham?”

  Jack turned to acknowledge my presence. I expected him to be angry with me, but his face held a pained expression instead. “I’l
l drive Hope to the airport then come back. He’s still a few hours out.”

  “I should be the one to tell him,” Hope said, although she didn’t look or sound convinced.

  “No, we’ve been friends our whole lives. I’ll tell him,” Jack said firmly.

  How noble of him. I wanted to slap him. His declaration had the opposite effect on Hope. She melted against him, and I wanted to vomit. There were many words I could have let fly, but none would have helped the situation.

  I turned to walk away.

  “Lauren,” Jack said as he approached me. Whispering to keep Hope from hearing, he said, “Don’t say anything to Graham if he beats me here. Tell him we were out when you arrived.”

  “I won’t lie to him,” I said forcefully, brave from my wine buzz.

  “Then drive home now.”

  My mouth gaped. I didn’t know this Jack. “What if Graham gets here before you? Don’t you think he’ll worry if no one is here or answering his calls?”

  The door opened, and Hope slipped out.

  I started to tell him what I thought of his plan, but he walked away.

  He grabbed his coat and swung the door open. “Listen, I fucked up. You don’t need to tell me how badly. Don’t say anything to Graham, okay? I’ll make this right. I swear.”

  He slammed the door before I had a chance to agree or tell him to go to hell.

  I grabbed my cell and brought up Graham’s number. He deserved to know what had happened. He deserved a chance to talk it out with Hope if that was what he wanted.

  I stopped in front of the fire without calling him. I paused, trying to understand my feelings. My anger had dissolved; I felt relieved—almost happy.

  That was as unnerving as seeing Jack and Hope together.

  Graham was my honorary brother from another mother, my protector, and even my confidant. Jack’s betrayal would cut Graham deeply, and my heart should be breaking for him.

  Leaving my phone on the mantel, I went to my room to pack. No matter who told Graham, chances were he would hate all of us, including me, simply for bearing witness. He’d cut members of his family out of his life for that very crime.

  I tried imagining my life without Graham but couldn’t.

  Confused and disgusted with myself, I transferred my belongings into my luggage, pausing when I saw my reflection in the bureau mirror. I told myself my feelings were irrelevant. Graham had never looked at me the way he looked at Hope.

  I wasn’t in her league. On my best day, I was cute. On my worst, I was a slightly overweight, bespectacled nerd with awkward social skills.

  Many people spend their entire lives trying to stand out. I only wanted to blend in. Strategically, I had learned to keep the majority of my thoughts to myself. Sharing them had never made my life better.

  At age four I pinpointed the error in a cartoon character’s attempt at Fermat’s Last Theorem, a problem that had taken mathematicians until 1994 to solve, and sought to discuss it. Not having the mathematical vocabulary to properly express how I would have solved it, I’d asked my teacher, and was instantly transferred to a school for the gifted.

  I graduated from high school at fourteen, had an undergraduate degree in applied mathematics by seventeen, and my PhD in condensed matter physics by twenty. Whether it was what I wanted or what I was told I should want, I was still unsure. When I requested a year off to find myself, I was directed to therapy. Some good came from that experience. I learned to value my emotions even when they didn’t match the expected. Feelings weren’t wrong, actions were.

  I also met my best friend, Kelley. She was interning at the practice where I paid for two sessions, debated the basic principles of psychology for two more, then on my clinician’s prodding, went on to formally study it.

  In retrospect, the suggestion to get my own degree if I thought I knew so much might have been sarcastic, but I wrote a dissertation to support my views and had an additional diploma a year later. Unlike my clinician, Kelley found my questions invigorating. She defined friendship as two people bringing out the best in each other. We were still close even though she had gone off to college in California to finish her studies, leaving us to communicate only by phone for now. Besides Graham, she was the only person who accepted me as I was.

  On impulse, I retrieved my phone from the mantel and called her. No answer. I checked the time. It was early enough that she might be in class. I left her a voice message—a long, detailed update that included a trip to the kitchen for another glass of Merlot.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lauren

  “Wake up, Peanut. It’s too beautiful of a day to sleep away.”

  I opened my eyes cautiously but didn’t sit up from where I’d fallen asleep on the couch. My short-lived buzz was gone and my head was throbbing. Graham Morgan, all six feet five inches of gorgeous muscle, was standing above me—smiling.

  Could the whole thing with Jack have been a bad dream?

  Graham lifted my legs, sat on the couch, and lowered them back onto his thighs. He was comfortable with me because I had never so much as hinted I might have feelings for him. He would never know how I savored his touch or how I’d never dated anyone who made my stomach flutter the way it did every time he looked at me.

  He ran his hand up and down the shin of one of my legs. “So, where is everyone? Still out on the slopes? Did you stay behind to meet me?” His smile was easy and pleased, the kind someone gave a dog who greeted them with a wagging tail.

  I sat up and removed myself from his confusing touch. My head spun and I groaned.

  He leaned closer and took a whiff of my breath. “You’ve been drinking.” He placed a hand over his heart. “My little Lauren, all grown up, drunk and passed out before dinner.”

  “I’m not drunk,” I croaked, sitting cross-legged facing him.

  “Worse, hungover.” Graham attempted a sympathetic look then laughed. “Do you feel like shit? Because you look like you do.”

  “Thanks.” I shoved him with my foot. It’s what he expected and what I would have done if this were a normal day.

  He grabbed my foot and held it. “So grumpy. I’ll have to cheer you up. How long has it been since someone tickled you until you peed yourself?”

  He was joking. Not only had he never done that, but he would have never allowed Jack to go that far either. No one hurt me. No one embarrassed me—not when he was around. Off the football field, Graham was a gentle giant to me. Still, the mischief in his eyes told me I wasn’t going to completely escape.

  “Don’t even try it.” I attempted to yank my foot free even though a part of me was loving having his full attention.

  “Come on, Peanut, smile just a little,” he said as he slightly tickled the bottom of my foot.

  I squirmed and let out an involuntary laugh. “Stop.” It felt good to see him again, too good. He hadn’t made it home for the holidays, so it had been over a year since I’d seen him in person. I felt guilty enjoying myself when he was about to receive devastating news.

  He squeezed my foot gently before releasing it. “No frowning. I missed you and I’m in a really good mood.”

  “I missed you, too,” I said. It wasn’t exactly witty exchange but it was honest. My mind was racing with everything I wanted to but couldn’t say. Was Jack right? Would the truth be best received from him?

  I shivered and glanced at the hearth. The fire had burned out, leaving only smoking ashes. An omen that nothing was forever?

  “Did you eat yet?” I asked because if I didn’t find something to distract myself I was going to start vomiting the truth. It was killing me to keep it from him.

  “No. I’m starving. The fridge should be stocked. You hungry?”

  “I could eat something,” I said.

  “First one to the kitchen makes the sandwiches. Last one cleans up.” He stood and bent in the stan
ce of a runner waiting for the starting shot to fire.

  I smiled because it was impossible not to. He had his demons, but he’d never discussed them with me. Our friendship was lighthearted and fun. I’d never pushed for more and it was something I regretted. If he stumbled over Hope’s infidelity, I wouldn’t be the one he’d turn to. I might have been if it hadn’t been Jack who had betrayed him.

  I scrambled off the couch despite how it made me a little dizzy and raced toward the kitchen. “You’re on.” I beat him, but seated at the island counter, he looked too pleased with himself to not have let me win. I narrowed my eyes at him and he shrugged.

  “I forgot how fast those little legs of yours are.”

  I nodded and put a hand on one hip. “I may be short, but my foot can still reach your ass.”

  He laughed. “Hey, I’ll clean up.”

  “You’d better.” I turned and started to search the contents of the fridge. “You’re not allowed to get a big head just because you’re a pro starter now.”

  He slapped the table. “Hold on, you’re right, I am kind of a big deal now. So instead of one layer of pickles, put two. You know, thanks to you, I can’t order a turkey sub now without them. You’ve ruined me.”

  I placed a jar of sliced pickles next to the luncheon meat and bread on the island between us. “There’s a reason they’ve been around for thousands of years.”

  He opened the jar and plopped one into his mouth. “Are you officially done with school now?”

  I hunted down plates and silverware. “I hope so.”

  He rolled up a piece of turkey and took a healthy bite of it. “Congratulations. You’re officially an adult. Now get a damn job.”

  I laughed and paused from assembling the sandwiches. “I have several offers on the table. I just don’t know what I want to do yet.”

  “Being a genius is hard, isn’t it?” He didn’t look the least bit serious. “Is there any company that wouldn’t hire you?”

  I pushed a finished sandwich across the island toward him. “Do you know that happiness is abstract and subjective regardless of the tools we attempt to measure it with? Despite circumstance or genetics, it often comes down to believing how a person says they are feeling. Medically, we try to measure it. Is the release of dopamine, brain derived neurotrophic proteins, or endorphins happiness? Maybe it’s too much to expect one career to do all that. It might be time to start exploring mammalian mechanisms for releasing oxytocin.”