“Like what?” Sam asked, still deflecting.
“That you don’t want to talk about it. Which means I really want to talk about it.” He smiled and waited patiently.
“It’s no big deal,” Sam said. He slumped in the chair. “I hadn’t gotten laid since…well, in a while, so King took me to the coast and found me a girl and we hit it with the understanding it was only for one night. A one-time thing, you know? Lots of people do it.” Okay, he was getting defensive.
“Since when?”
“What? I don’t know. The seventies?” When was the sexual revolution?
“You hadn’t gotten laid since the seventies?” Mark asked incredulously. “Were you even born? How old are you?”
“Jesus, no,” Sam said. “I hadn’t gotten laid since Afghanistan.”
“What is that? Two, three years?” Mark asked, scribbling on his notepad. Sam really hated those notepads.
“About two. Do you want details?”
Mark missed the sarcasm in his voice. “Yes,” he said, crossing his legs.
“Seriously?” Sam fidgeted.
“Not like a porn-movie synopsis,” Mark said. “But were you able to perform? Why did she think you needed to come see me?”
“Yes, admirably,” Sam replied. “Thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome. More details, please.” Sam glared at him and Mark sighed. “Look, Sam. We’re on the same team. I’m trying to help. I’m going to lay it on the line. Your game is in the crapper. I think if we talk about some of this, it might help. It’s obvious you’ve got a lot on your mind. It just seemed odd that one of the first things you’d mention to me was that you’d had a one-night stand. Not exactly one of those things guys are eager to share with their psychologist. So, I’m going to assume there’s more to it. Something about it is bothering you. So let’s figure out what.”
Sam rubbed his face and leaned back in the chair with a groan. “King was there.” There, he’d said it.
“So you had a threesome?” Mark asked, cool as could be, like Sam had just told him they’d shared French fries.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He sighed. “I mean he was there because I asked him to stay. I was worried that I might freak out. If I got too into the sex, I mean.”
“Define ‘freak out.’ ”
“Have a flashback or get violent.” Sam sounded like he was reciting lines he’d memorized from a book.
“Has that happened before? You said you hadn’t had sex since Afghanistan.”
“No. I mean, it hasn’t happened. I used to have nightmares, right after I got back and after I got out of the hospital. I hadn’t had one in months when I slept with Jane.”
“So the one-night stand has a name?” Mark asked with a smile. “I like calling her Jane instead of she, or the one-night stand.”
“Yes, she has a name. She was a great girl. Woman, I guess. A nurse.”
“Did you meet her at the hospital?”
“No. Down at Orange Beach.”
“Oh, that’s right. You said King took you to the coast. Why so far?”
“Because I didn’t want to have to worry about running into some woman I’d slept with here at home in Birmingham. I didn’t know how it was going to turn out.” He could feel himself blushing.
“Ah,” Mark said with understanding. “In case you couldn’t do it. Right. But you said you could. Admirably, I believe you said. In spite of King’s being there.”
“Because of King’s being there,” Sam admitted. He ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. “I don’t think I could have gotten it up without his being there.”
“So you’re attracted to King?” Mark sounded like he was trying to figure out what Sam was saying more than anything else.
“No.” Sam paused. “Maybe. Shit, I don’t know.”
“Okay. Well, let’s walk through it.” He leaned forward. “Were you attracted to Jane?”
“Hell, yes,” Sam said. “She’s amazing. Gorgeous body, long brown hair, freckles, dimples. The works. Perfect. I wanted her the minute I saw her. She was giving hell to this asshole who was bothering her at the bar.”
“So a strong woman, independent, self-sufficient,” Mark commented.
“Yes, all those things. King and I stepped in to help her.”
“Did she need it?” Mark asked. At Sam’s look he raised his hands in surrender. “Just wondering if there was a bit of hero syndrome in there.”
“Because of my past in the Army?” Sam asked. Instead of getting angry, he thought about it. “I don’t think so. It’s never been in my nature to stand by and watch a guy harass a woman, whether she can take care of herself or not. Better to step in and make apologies later, right?”
“Okay,” Mark agreed. “Then what?”
“We had a few shots. Toasted her brother. He died in Afghanistan.”
“She told you that right after meeting you?” Mark asked, surprised.
“It just came up in conversation,” Sam said. “I can’t really remember how. Something about his teaching her to fight.”
“Ah,” Mark said. “Go on.”
“She had on this tiny little bikini top and cutoff shorts,” Sam said appreciatively. “Hot as hell. But I wasn’t really on board with King’s plan. You know, that I sleep with someone. Anyway, we ended up talking with Jane for a couple of hours, and then King asked her if she wanted to sleep with me, and she said yes, and next thing I knew we were ripping each other’s clothes off in her hotel room.” He sheepishly looked up at Mark. “Best sex I’ve ever had, hands down. Wild and fast and hard and, Jesus, everything I needed it to be.”
“Sounds good,” Mark said with an appreciative chuckle. “So what’s the problem?”
“Somehow King went from watching to participating,” Sam admitted. “He was sitting off to the side, but when I fell asleep after round two, I had a nightmare.”
“Ah.” Mark didn’t say anything else, just waited for Sam to continue.
“I don’t remember it,” Sam said. “But from King’s description it sounds like the same one I used to have before. It’s more like reliving real events than a nightmare. It’s just that the reality was a nightmare.”
“Tell me,” Mark said.
“An IED hit the transport I was in with my team,” Sam said, reciting the same story he’d told a thousand times to various doctors and therapists. “I was trapped under a door.” He turned a little in the chair to present his back to Mark. “Burned the shit out of my back. Cut it up.” He sat back. “Anyway, a friend of mine, Richie Berkovitch, he died. I saw him lying dead, not too far away, but I couldn’t get the damn door off to get his body. I dragged myself over, the door still on my back, to get him. I’m not sure how, since my left arm was broken. And I got shot twice. Collapsed a lung.”
“Why?” Mark asked, frowning. “If he was dead already, I mean. Why risk it?”
“I was kind of out of it,” Sam said with a shrug. “And bullets kept hitting his body. They make a god-awful sound when they hit like that. I just wanted to get him out of the line of fire.”
“Okay.” Mark accepted his explanation and silently waited for more.
“I was calling for another team member, a rookie, Carmina De La Cruz. I’d sort of taken her under my wing. She’d been real nervous about going out that day, so I’d made sure to sit next to her on the transport.”
“What happened to her?”
“She was thrown from the truck. Hit her head on some roadside rubble. She got a TBI. Still has some cognitive issues.” Sam wiped a hand over his mouth. “She just moved down here to Birmingham, to be closer to me.”
“Before or after the one-night stand?” Mark asked.
“After.”
“Were you romantically involved with her at the time of the attack?”
Mark’s question surprised Sam.
“No.” He shook his head. “She’s like a kid sister to me.”
“So you had the dream the night you
had sex with Jane,” Mark prompted him.
“Yeah. She was cool with it. King said she sort of rolled with it and played along and settled me down and I went back to sleep.”
“And then she suggested you come to see me?”
“No. She suggested that when she found out I hadn’t slept with anyone since Afghanistan. She told me the dream was only natural, particularly right after we had sex. Knowing it was the first time I’d been that close to a woman since the attack and losing Berkovich, Jane said it was only natural that the memories would come back. And the sex was pretty rough and wild, so I guess that stirred up some emotions, too.”
“This Jane sounds pretty smart,” Mark said. “So, after thinking about it, was it King that you were attracted to and trying to please, or Jane?”
“Jane,” Sam said. “But when I saw her and King together later…it was hot.” He blushed hot at the admission. “This is just between you and me, right?”
“No, I’m selling it all to HBO. Yes, it’s between you and me,” Mark said, exasperated. “I have this pesky oath thing that says I can’t talk about what we talk about in here.”
“Good,” Sam said with relief.
“You don’t want King to know you thought it was hot?”
“King already knows,” Sam told him. “We’ve talked about it.”
“Good,” Mark said. “King’s a good guy. I like him.”
“I do, too,” Sam said. “That’s what worries me. I mean, I’ve seen his dick,” he whispered. “I watched him get head, and it turned me on. What does that mean? What if it comes between us and ruins our friendship?”
“Does King seem different since it happened?” Mark asked, looking confused.
“No, he’s the same old King.”
“Then I’m not sure what you’re worried about. This is the Rebels, after all. Even if you and King did it again, not many people around here would blink an eye.”
“This never happened before,” Sam said in a rush. “I mean, before Afghanistan, before the attack. I never looked at a guy’s dick and thought it was hot, or fantasized about watching him fuck my woman. I mean, come on, that’s not normal.” It was such a relief to finally say it that Sam felt light-headed and collapsed against the back of the chair.
“There is no normal.” Sam looked at Mark in surprise and Mark shrugged. “There isn’t. There’s my normal, and your normal. You just have a new normal.” He leaned forward. “Look, don’t worry so much about what your dick is interested in. Just go with it. Nobody was complaining, were they? You were all consenting adults and clearly enjoyed what happened. So, don’t worry about it.”
“This is your professional advice?” Sam asked incredulously. “Don’t worry about it?”
“Yep,” Mark said. “That’s what they pay me the big bucks for.” He stood up and wrote something on a little card and handed it to Sam. “Go to practice and come see me again in a couple of days.”
“Again?” Sam whined. There was a time and date written on the card.
“Again,” Mark said. “One session isn’t going to help much on the field. You’ve got a lot going on up there in your head.” At Sam’s disappointed sigh, Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, it was a relief to finally talk to someone, wasn’t it?” Reluctantly, Sam nodded. “So, we’ll talk again. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
Chapter 9
King was already sitting down pulling on his sneakers when Sam came out of the showers. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and King stared in amazement. Sam always wore a shirt in the locker room. He didn’t like people to see the scars on his back and ask questions. King saw several players stop and stare at Sam as he walked past them. Sam was oblivious, drying his hair with a towel. He already had his jeans on, but no shoes.
He looked fucking hot.
King looked away quickly, before Sam could see how turned-on King was. Sam wasn’t ready for that yet. Maybe he never would be, and that was okay. King wasn’t going to jeopardize their friendship over an inappropriate case of lust for his best friend. He’d found guys attractive before, even made out with one or two when he was younger, but he liked pussy plenty, too, so he’d been happy to choose women as he got older. Less stress and strife in this business, right? Until Sam. It had made the last couple of months hell. Sam was practically a part of King’s family now. His mother called him atali’i, son. His sister Lelei’s son Mikaele shadowed Sam whenever he was around. How would they react if King let his emotions destroy their friendship?
“What has you thinking so hard?” Sam asked, snapping him in the shoulder with a towel.
“You’re not wearing a shirt,” King blurted out, saying the first thing that came to mind. “I was surprised, that’s all.”
Sam shrugged, not looking at him. “I’ve been talking to Mark the last couple of weeks, you know. He said I was making more of a big deal out of it than everyone else would. It happened, move on. So I’m trying to move on and act normal.”
“Good,” King said. He realized that might sound like he didn’t think Sam was normal. “I mean, good that you like the doctor. I don’t really know him well, but he seems like a good guy.”
“That’s what he said about you,” Sam told him. “He mentioned it might be helpful to talk to you—I mean, for him to talk to you—about me. Because, you know, you know me better than anyone else.”
“Do I?” King asked, his heart pounding. Could the doctor tell how he felt about Sam?
“I suppose so,” Sam said. “Everyone else who knew me better is dead or too far away. Except De La Cruz, and she doesn’t like to talk to anyone.” He tugged his shirt off the shelf of his locker.
“We’ve got to do something about that, too,” King said firmly, getting a grip on himself. “Are you taking her to the VA again?”
“Yeah,” Sam said with a sigh. “She might not admit it, but I could tell that sitting in on that group session helped her. She listened to every word they were saying.”
“What about you?”
“I listened, too.” Sam tugged his shirt over his head and King knew the discussion was closed.
“Whose picture is this?” Kitt Doyle asked from behind them. King turned to see him looking down at Sam’s picture, which he was holding in his hand.
Sam spun around and ripped it out of Doyle’s hand. “What the hell are you doing with that?” Sam snapped. He shoved Doyle hard into the lockers opposite them and climbed over the bench, murder in his eyes. King jumped up and grabbed him around the chest, hauling him back.
“He found it on the floor, Sammy,” King said calmly. “He didn’t take it. It must have fallen out of your locker when you pulled your shirt out.” King could feel Sam panting and sweating.
“Don’t touch my fucking stuff,” he told Doyle breathlessly. “Let go,” he tried to snarl at King, but King could tell he was having trouble breathing.
“I didn’t do anything,” Doyle said, his eyes wide. “I just found it lying on the floor, I swear.” Doyle was a good kid, in his third NFL season. A big Irish guy, with blond hair and freckles. He’d tanked with the Titans last season, but he was turning it around with the Rebels.
“King,” Sam said, reaching out a hand blindly as he sat down hard on the bench.
“Put your head between your knees,” King told him, sitting down beside him. They’d gathered an audience.
“What the hell,” Sam mumbled, his voice muffled from his knees. “So much for being normal.”
Doyle looked confused, but King shook his head before he could say something. By now, Cass and Beau and Ty Oakes, the quarterback, had made their way over. King could see All Pro running back Danny Smith leaning against the corner of the lockers, frowning as he watched them. King wasn’t sure what to make of Smith yet. When he’d arrived at minicamp a few months ago, he’d been one of the most hated players in the NFL. But so far in Birmingham, he was working hard and loosening up. It helped that assistant coach Marian Treadwell was one of his oldest friends. Smith sudde
nly straightened.
“I ain’t worked hard enough yet,” he declared to no one in particular. “I’m going to hit the weight room. Anyone want to join me?”
Sam sat up, doing that deep breathing thing he liked to do. “Yeah,” he said, his voice shaky. “Me. Just give me a minute.” He held his hand out to Doyle. “Sorry I freaked. That’s a picture of my unit in Afghanistan. Most of them are dead. I carry it around and…anyway, I’m sorry I lost it.”
Doyle shook his hand. “No problem. Better be careful with it.”
Sam laughed. “That’s a copy. King has the original in a safe-deposit box. I’m so fucked in the head he had to make, like, a hundred copies for me. And I still freak out.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Kids, don’t be like me,” he joked. He yanked his shirt off and used it to dry the nervous sweat off his face. King could tell he was using it to hide, too. Sam stood and grabbed a workout shirt from his locker. “I’ll be there in a minute, Smith,” he said, turning his back to the room. Doyle’s eyes got big when he saw Sam’s back.
“I need to do some weights,” Cass declared. “I think King almost knocked me over at practice today. Fuck that.”
“Yeah, me too,” Ty said. “If I want to be in next year’s ESPN The Magazine’s Body Issue, I have to get as big as King.”
King blushed. “I never should have done that. You guys give me too much shit.”
“Bestselling cover last year,” Sam teased him, his voice back to normal.
When they finally hit the weight room, half the team was in there. Sam quietly lifted weights while King spotted him, letting the ebb and flow of all the smack talk and conversation flow around them. It was the sort of solidarity King had always wanted in a team: supporting one another when they needed it, and Sam needed it. He might not know it, but Sam was one of the elements that held this team together. The team all knew he’d had it rough and he was trying to come back into a tough sport and live the dream. They all wanted him to succeed. King had seen one example after another of the guys going out of their way for Sam. If Sam knew how they felt, he didn’t let on. He didn’t like to be the center of attention. But King was convinced that Sam had given this team heart.
Jacked Up Page 7
