Scorched Turf

by Lilah Grey

  “Two can play this game,” she breathed as she stroked me.

  “But I can play it better.”

  I grabbed her ass and lifted her up. Immediately, she latched her legs around my waist as she gripped the back of my head. I set her down on the bench, kneeled down, and gripped the back of her thighs, forcing them against her as my face dove in between her legs.

  She squirmed and my tongue covered her clit, sucking, toying with it.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, one hand gripping my wet hair while the other pushed against the shower wall, bracing her. Her legs clenched against me as my grip tightened, faint moans growing louder as I continued to suck her clit, taste her.

  Her body began to tremble. “Just like that…”

  I glanced up and saw her nibbling her arm. Her back arched as she let her arm fall to her side. After a brief moment of silence, a wave of convulsions swept through her.

  “Fuck,” she rasped as she ran her hand through her hair and then down the swell of her breasts. Her eyes met mine and she smiled, giggling as her head rocked backward.

  “So good,” she said, still squirming.

  We’d only just begun.

  I grabbed her wrist as I stood up. “Bed. Now,” I said, pulling her harshly, slapping her ass as she passed in front of me.

  “Ow,” she groaned, her eyes widening as she rubbed her ass, a bright pink mark beginning to form.

  After a brief moment, she smiled, turned around and walked toward the bed.

  I stood there, watching Corinne’s beautiful form, mesmerized by it—by her, really. There was no one else in this world that understood me better, that made me want to be a better person, and who drew out the best in me.

  I fingered the blank space in the tattoo over my heart.

  “Are you coming or not?” Corinne called from the other room.

  A smirk crossed my lips.

  She had no idea what was in store for her.

  CORINNE

  Sometimes, when I look at James, there’s a pleasure that rises inside me—so pure and beautiful—that it’s almost painful. It doesn’t happen all the time, and there’s no real pattern to it, so I can never anticipate when it might appear next. But when it happens, it leaves me breathless and reeling. It’s a sort of fluttering ache that builds in my core, spreading slowly until finally it reaches my head and millions upon millions of tiny pin pricks radiate across my skin.

  It’s my favorite feeling in the world, and only James can draw it out of me.

  It’s happening right now.

  I’m standing in the doorway of James’s bedroom. He’s leaning back on the bed, one arm above his head, while the other rests next to his side. The comforter is pulled down below his waist, and his tan, muscled torso is on full display. His eyes are closed, but I know he can sense me. Breath is returning to me, slowly, but I’m still frozen in place.

  “Any word?” James said, his eyes still shut.

  “No,” I said. “Nothing yet.”

  It had been a week since my tryout with the Tempest, and I should be hearing from them any day now. I’m nervous, but not concerned. If I’m not selected, I’ll just try my luck again in open tryouts. There are plenty of them; James already created a list.

  It’s kind of adorable how much he’s thrown himself into helping me find a team. It’s bordering on obsessive, really. But after leaving Milan, he wasn’t exactly busy. It’s hard to believe that James left such an amazing team, and not to mention salary, behind him just to be closer to me. I felt guilty, but James made it clear that he was burnt out and didn’t enjoy playing as much as he used to.

  Having played soccer competitively for multiple decades without a break, he needed to recharge for a little while. He enjoyed coaching the Hawks and decided that he’d have another go at it once we knew where I’d be placed. I wasn’t completely convinced and thought he’d be bored out of his mind; but he was adamant about it, so I let it go.

  But if he started getting cranky, I’d force him to find a team, even if it meant we might not live in the same city. We’d make it work.

  “Get over here,” James said, patting the open spot next to him on the bed.

  I walked over and lay down next to him, curling myself against his body as he wrapped his arm around me and stroked my head. There was no one else I wanted to be with than James.

  “I love you, Cori,” he said.

  I breathed in his scent and sighed, completely relaxed and calm because I knew that as long as I had James, everything would be okay. “And I love you…”

  My phone rang from the other room.

  “It could be Sam,” James said.

  “Then she’ll leave a message,” I said. “I want to stay here.”

  “Alright.”

  A few minutes later, James’s phone rang on the nightstand next to us.

  “No,” I groaned as James reached over and grabbed his phone. I sat up and frowned at him. “I was comfortable.”

  He ignored me, answering the call.

  “Hi there,” he said. “Uh-huh.” James nodded, looking at me for a brief moment before turning his head. He continued answering in affirmatives for what seemed like an eternity. “We’ll be on the lookout for it,” he said finally. “Have a nice day.”

  Have a nice day?

  I’d never heard James tell anyone to have a nice day. He set his phone down and then slid back into place.

  I blinked at him.

  “What?” he said, looking back at me.

  I cocked my head. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, that?” he said, grinning.

  James sat up, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and leaned in as though he was about to kiss me. Instead, his lips hovered just above my ear, and he whispered, “Looks like we’re going apartment hunting in Portland.”

  A shock of electricity ran down my spine as I pulled away. “What?”

  James nodded, smiling.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Get out. Get the fuck out.”

  He shrugged. “You did it, Corinne. You’re on the team.”

  I don’t remember what happened next. It was as though I’d blacked out. Later on, James had told me that I leapt to my feet, stripped naked, and ran around the room mumbling like a crazy person, climbing and jumping on any and everything I could. It sounded about right. I should be more embarrassed than I am, but I’m not because I achieved the singular, most important thing in the world (sorry James).

  Corinne Crosley, PROFESSIONAL soccer player.

  Epilogue I

  Corinne - A few months later…

  The package had been sitting on the kitchen table for a few months. Before that, it had been resting on bits of discarded lettuce, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, chicken, and blue cheese dressing—the discarded remnants of my lunch that day. It had only been there for a few minutes, before James fished it out, wiped it clean, and set it back on top of the table where it had been sitting ever since.

  He told me a few months or years down the line I might regret throwing it away. I knew I wouldn’t. Well, most of the time. Other times, like right now, I’m curious to know what might be inside.

  At first, I had no idea how my mother knew our new address in Portland as quickly as she did. We’d hardly moved in before the package arrived. But then Violet had called to check in, and she let slip that she’d been in contact with my mother recently.

  James had left for an appointment. A secret appointment, apparently, because he’d been tight-lipped about where he was actually going. He’d been gone for a few hours, and the more time I spent alone in the apartment, the more curious I became. About both the appointment and the package in the center of the table, taunting me.

  I took another sip of my cold coffee and continued to stare at the box. I set down my mug, pushed my chair out, and stood up. I had every intention of taking the package and disposing it once and for all, but instead of dropping it into the trash, I held to next to my ear and shook it.


  There was something heavy inside, along with smaller loose contents, but I was no closer at identifying what they were. I set it down with a sigh and walked to the sliding glass door at the back of the apartment. I tried to ignore the package sitting on the table behind me, but without anything to distract me, my mind kept returning to it.

  And then I gave in.

  Inside the package was a framed picture—the one I’d destroyed when I was searching my mother’s room for the letters. Along with the frame was a stack of postcards, tied with twine, and a handwritten note from my mother.

  Corinne,

  I’ve been a terrible mother. I became the mother I always promised myself I wouldn’t become. My mother. Your grandmother.

  I know you may not believe me. You might be thinking that this is some sort of game or ploy, but it isn’t. It really isn’t. I mean everything I’m about to say with all my heart.

  I’ve been seeing a therapist for the better part of this year. At first as a way to cope with my crumbling marriage, but as the sessions progressed, they uncovered a lot of painful memories I’d buried for quite some time.

  I still have a lot to work through, but I hope that some time in the future, you’d be willing to see me again.

  I miss you, Corinne. I really do.

  You’re my daughter, and I love you so much. It tears me up remembering all the horrible things I put you through, and all the things I missed. All those soccer games. I missed out on an entire part of your life because I was selfish and jealous, and I’ll never be able to get it back.

  I know it’s going to be difficult to repair our relationship, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.

  I’m proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You’ve done so much more in your short life than I have in mine, and that makes me happy. It makes me happy to see my daughter succeed, and it makes me even happier to see her with someone who brings her so much joy.

  I see the way you look at James. I always saw it. I was jealous of it, because it was something I never had, not even with your father. I hid those letters out of jealousy and spite and not a single day goes by that I wish I hadn’t.

  But I can’t change the past.

  I’ve included more letters that you didn’t find. Even though I took them, I never had the heart to actually destroy them.

  You have a wonderful man in James, and I know he’ll make you happy.

  Love,

  Nina

  I didn’t know what to think. So many conflicting emotions swirled inside me. I sucked in a deep breath and grabbed the pile of postcards on the table.

  They were from all over the world: Italy and France, Ireland and Scotland, Brazil and Chile, and even South Africa. All of them were from James, some wishing me a happy birthday while others were short notes.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I flipped through each of them, reading their messages. He never gave up on me. Never. Even when I stopped writing letters, when I gave up on him, he kept on.

  “Corinne?” James said, startling me. The letters fell to the floor, floating in every direction.

  I turned around and threw myself into him, latching my arms around his neck.

  “Ow!” he squealed as he wrapped his arms around me. “Are you okay?”

  My throat was thick and tears were already streaming down my cheeks.

  Was I okay?

  I was more than okay. The man of my dreams loved me more than I ever imagined.

  “Yes,” I croaked.

  “So these are happy tears I take it?” James said, still uncertain about what he’d just walked into.

  I laughed. “Yes. Very happy tears.”

  I sniffled and then finally released him. “Why didn’t you tell me about these?” I said, pointing to the cards strewn across the floor.

  His eyes wandered to mess of cards and then back to me. He shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered, or that you’d even believe me.”

  He was probably right. I’m not sure I would’ve believed him that he sent that many cards, especially when none of them reached me.

  “Are you alright?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at James, who was now rubbing his chest with a pained look on his face. I didn’t think I’d hurt him that badly…

  “Yeah, just a little tender.”

  I saw a slight lump where he was rubbing. “What did you do?”

  A nervous look flashed on his face but then disappeared.

  “New tattoo.”

  “Can I see?”

  He seemed reluctant at first, but eventually, he pulled his shirt over his head. A patch of gauze covered his left pectoral. He looked at me and then down at his chest.

  “I didn’t want to show you this until later, but I guess now is as good a time as any.”

  He peeled back the gauze.

  Directly over his heart, in the section I’d once asked him about, was my name.

  My hand flew to my mouth as I looked at it and then up at him. The waterworks were in full effect, and when he knelt down on one knee, pulling out a small box from his pocket, the dam crumpled completely.

  Oh my God. This is not happening. This is NOT real.

  “You are my rock, my world, my everything. I don’t deserve you, but if you’d give me the chance, I’ll work for the rest of my life until I do. Corinne Olivia Crosley, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” I squealed, nodding so hard that I was sure my head would snap off at any moment.

  James slid the ring on my finger, stood up, and kissed me.

  “It’s the other way around,” I said after a few moments.

  “The ring?” James said, looking slightly manic.

  “No,” I shook my head. “The ring is fine.” I looked at it and my eyes bulged. “It’s more than fine, Jesus Christ. I’m getting nervous just looking at it. What if I break it?”

  Oh my. It was huge and gorgeous and what in the world had I done to deserve this.

  “Then I’ll buy you another one,” James said, cupping my face.

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “What I meant by ‘the other way around,’ ” I began, getting lost in his gorgeous eyes for a moment, “is that I don’t deserve you. You’re the most wonderful person in the world, and I don’t know what I did to ever deserve you.”

  James shook his head.“You’re far more than I deserve. I’m lucky to have found you.”

  No. I was the luckiest person in the world, because I’d found the one person on this planet who could make me whole.

  I’d found my soulmate.

  Epilogue II

  Corinne and James

  Corinne and James were married in the fall of the following year. After three successful seasons with the Tempest, Corinne transferred to the Philadelphia Blazers, filling the opening left by Marybeth Adler who retired following another torn ACL.

  While Corinne played for the Tempest, James coached a local high school girl’s team, leading them to back-to-back-to-back state championships. Although he loved mentoring the girls, James became restless, itching to get back on the field.

  When Corinne transferred, James quit his coaching job and signed with the Philadelphia Revolution. After a few seasons with James on the roster, the Revolution became a top contender in the league.

  James and Corinne played for the US National Team, and both of them medalled. Bronze for James, gold for Corinne.

  They’re currently expecting their first child, Sophia.

  Nina Crosley

  Nina continued her therapy sessions, and after a few false starts, she began making headway in repairing her relationship with Corinne. She’s not currently seeing anyone and isn’t looking. She’s excited about spoiling her new grandbaby.

  Rylee

  After being cut from the UP Hawks and then expelled from the university, Rylee declared for the women’s draft. She wasn’t selected and still hasn’t been selected in subsequent years. She’s currently waitressing at a Denny’s in a small town in eastern Pen
nsylvania. She’ll be up for the manager’s position in a few years.

  Chloe and Jack

  Unable to deal with the distance when Chloe left to play for the Tempest, Chloe and Jack broke up.

  They got back together after a long, passionate night following James and Corinne’s wedding.

  They broke up two weeks later.

  And then got back together two years later.

  Until they broke up once again.

  They may or may not be together; neither of them would confirm.

  Violet

  Violet went to Harvard where she graduated with a Ph.D. in Art History. She currently works for the MFA in Boston and may or may not being seeing someone…

  She still refuses to listen to Phil Collins.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you, reader, for taking the time to read my book. I hope you enjoyed reading Scorched Turf as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  I’d also like to thank G.N. for all your comments and help!

  And to J.P. for just being you.

  About the Author

  When Lilah Grey isn’t holed up in a coffee shop writing, she can be found reading (mysteries/thrillers/romance), binging on Netflix (The Office/Parks & Rec/Parts Unknown), or hiking nearby trails with her bluetick beagle.

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  Also by Lilah Grey

  Behind These Scars

  Broke: Check.

  Dead-end job: Check.

  Nonexistent love life: Please don’t remind me…

  Just when I think my life couldn’t possibly get any worse, the universe smacks me in the face once again.

  Job: Gone.

  Car: Dead.

  Dreams: Crushed.

  The cherry on top? After leaving my job for the last time, I’m cornered in the parking lot by a drunk, disgruntled customer who’s not exactly thrilled that I had the bouncers kick him out.

  Before he has the chance to do any real harm, I’m rescued by the one person I never expected to see again.

  Luke Masters. My stepbrother.