The Perfect Game

Page 32

“Because someone has to talk some sense into that idiot and it can’t be you!” She stomped out of my room.
My world went black and the next thing I knew, Dean was sitting at the foot of my bed, clearly uncomfortable with the way I carried on. Even with my face buried in my pillow, my muffled wails were loud enough to wake the dead. He tried to comfort me by patting my calves, and I turned my head to look at him before swatting his hands away.
“Say something, Dean,” Melissa insisted, jabbing at his shoulder.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Make her feel better. Tell her you talked to Jack. Something!” Her voice sounded so frantic.
I jerked my head up at the mention of his name. “You talked to Jack?” I choked out, my chest heaving.
“Yeah.” He frowned.
“And?”
“He’s completely irrational. I can’t talk any sense into him at all,” he admitted, his voice frustrated.
“What about his agents? I mean, what good are they if let him go through with this?”
“They tried, trust me. I guess I should be thankful they got him to agree to a pre-nup,” he said and lifted one shoulder.
“They did? That’s good.” I sniffed.
“They tried to get him to wait. They told him to get confirmation that the baby was his, but you know Jack,” he said with a huff.
I nodded with understanding before allowing my head to fall back into my pillow.
“I’m sorry, sis. I tried to tell him this was wrong. I tried to talk him out of it, but he won’t listen. He’s so stubborn and he’s convinced himself that what he’s doing is right.” He tugged at his brown hair, his eyes closing.
“Gran even tried to talk to him,” he whispered, his eyes still tight.
“What? What’d she say?”
“She told him that it doesn’t take becoming someone’s husband to become a good dad. She told him that one has nothing to do with the other. That being a dad was a choice. That anyone could father a child, but a real man chooses to be a dad. She told him that being a husband was something that should be reserved for the person you truly want to call your wife.”
“Gran’s good.” I couldn’t hold back a slight smile, awed at Gran’s wisdom.
“What’d he say to that?” Melissa chimed in.
“He wouldn’t listen to her, either.” Dean’s head shook and my smile faded. “He told her that his child wouldn’t grow up in a broken home. That sometimes you have to be unselfish and compromise even if it’s not what you want because it’s not about you anymore.”
“There’s no getting through to him. How are they doing?” I asked, referring to Gran and Gramps.
“They’re both really sad. They’re worried for him. And they’re worried about you.” The skin around his eyes pulled tight with his stress.
I nodded, no words necessary.
“He loves you, Cassie. He doesn’t give a shit about this girl, he’s just so fucked messed up from our parents that he can’t see reason.”
“I feel like you wouldn’t do this though, and you both grew up in the same house.” Melissa folded her arms across her stomach.
“Yeah, but he was older so he remembers things that I don’t. He was the one who had to hold it together while our mom fell apart. He remembers the day our dad didn’t come home. Honestly, he really lost it when Mom left. He was never the same after that and he’s been fighting his demons ever since.”
Dean shrugged, picking at the fabric of his shorts. “I never thought he’d let anyone in. We would fight like crazy about it until I realized there was no changing him. I don’t think it’s that he didn’t want someone to love him—he just didn’t want to risk loving them back.”
He paused, exhaling through his nose. “Then you showed up and everything changed. You changed him.”
“He changed me too.”
“I’ll say,” Melissa added, her arms dropping to her side. “She never let anyone in either. I knew the night she saw Jack that something was different.” Her blue eyes pierced into mine. “I could literally see it. Watching the two of you interact, it was like watching fireworks light up the night sky. You two burn brighter when you’re together.”
“Even fireworks burn out,” I said, my voice solemn.
SEVENTEEN
The next few days were hell as the local newspapers and websites focused on the “Upcoming Nuptials of Our Very Own Jack Carter!” and “Hometown Hero Marrying Southern Sweetie!” I couldn’t escape the news. No matter what I did or where I went, his one night of screwing up was always right there, screaming in my face.
I stopped checking e-mails the day an anonymous person sent me a link that led to a picture of myself underneath a caption that read, “The girl Jack left behind. Why he’s marrying someone else.”
And I closed my Facebook account the moment after I logged in to see over a hundred and fifty messages from my so-called “friends,” asking me if everything they were reading online was true or not.
If I didn’t rely on my cell phone to communicate with my job and my parents, I would have shut it off as well. The texts alone were a nightmare. Each time one beeped, my heart jumped. Part of me wanted the messages to be from Jack, wanting to know how much he hurt, how sorry he was, and how he wished it had never happened. But the other part of me could barely stomach it. His words were like knives in a heart already overflowing with stab wounds.
My phone rang and I looked down to see Dani–Trunk Mag flashing on the screen. I hadn’t been to the offices at Trunk since the semester began. I pressed the Answer button, resting the phone against my ear. “Hey, Dani. What’s up?”
“Hey, Cass.” Her voice sounded cordial. “I’m really sorry about you and Jack.”
“Thanks.” This had become my standard response. I simply accepted people’s condolences for my now-dead-and-buried relationship and tried to move on.
“Um, I really hate you ask you this, but BC is insisting the school wants to do a follow-up feature on Jack since the draft. He says everyone and their mother has their panties in a wad and can’t read enough about him.”
BC was the editor of the magazine. Half the time I thought he was an idiot, but his ideas usually won us awards, so I stopped questioning his ridiculous demands months ago.
“He freaked out when he looked at our collection of Jack photos.” She snickered.
We had a collection of Jack photos.
Who has a collection of photos of one person?
“We don’t have anything recent and he told me to ask you if you had anything from the summer when he was playing. I’m sorry, Cass, I tried to argue with him, but he was adamant that you’d be professional about this.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Going through photos of Jack wasn’t something I was sure I could handle at this point. But BC was right. I needed to be professional.
“You don’t have to do this. I can tell him you didn’t have any.” Dani’s sympathy and regret sounded sincere, and I found myself feeling bad for the position she was in.
“No, it’s okay. I’m sure I have something you can use. How many do you need?”
“Just e-mail me a few of your best shots. I trust your judgment.” I could hear the relief in her tone.
“Okay. Deadline?”
“Tomorrow by noon. I know it’s tight but BC wants it to go out in the Welcome Back edition.”
“No problem.” I sucked in a lungful of air.
“Thanks, Cassie. You’re a lifesaver.”
I ended the call, reaching for my backpack and stuffing my textbooks inside. I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes, tossed a hat on my head, and headed out the door toward campus.
I strolled along the sidewalk before cutting to the left, entering the well-manicured campus. I marveled at how green the lawn was even though I couldn’t remember the last time it rained. I passed two girls in hand-painted sorority shirts and I swear I felt a few brain cells spontaneously combust in my head.
A larger crowd appeared up ahead and my chest tightened as I neared. The stares were less subtle now and the whispers sounded less like whispers and more like shouts. I hated the fact that everyone on campus felt the need to talk about me like I was some freak in a circus sideshow.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I reached in and pulled it out. Text from Melissa. My fucking savior. I walked with my head down, my attention focused on my cell phone instead of the gossiping people I passed.
In the SU with Dean. It’s not crazy crowded.
With my heart in my throat, I turned in the direction of the student union and punched in a response.
On my way.
If I continued to hide, it would only make things worse. I’d be giving them more things to talk about, instead of less. I had to show them I wasn’t falling apart. That I could survive without Jack in my life. Whether or not I believed it wasn’t the point—I needed everyone else to.
I threw open the glass door before stepping into the familiar smells and sounds. I pretended not to notice as the girls watched my every move, their faces painted with fake sympathy.
I spotted Dean and rushed over, my pace not even slowing as someone called my name. By the time I reached the table, I was practically hyperventilating.
“You’re okay. It’s okay.” Melissa reached across the table, touching my hand with hers.
My eyes pooled as I squeezed them shut to force the tears to recede. Dean slid next to me, tossing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me against him as I struggled to even my breathing.
“I guess if Jack dumped me, I’d date his brother too.” A curvy blonde motioned toward us with a snide smile.
“Shut up, you stupid tramp,” Melissa shouted, her face reddening. “All of you just shut the hell up and leave her alone!”
I was silently thankful for her outburst. Thankful she had the guts to say what I wanted to, but was too terrified of actually doing. My actions were so scrutinized that any flare-up would most likely end up on YouTube. It was hard enough simply getting through the day without adding fuel to the wildfire that showed no sign of stopping its ravenous burn.
Cole and Brett grabbed their trays and headed toward our table. When random girls tried to follow, the guys shoved them away and announced loud enough for everyone to hear that they weren’t welcome.
Cole sat down on the other side of me, his eyes still holding the pain I recognized from the day of the beating. “We’re all really sorry about you and Jack, Cassie. And if there’s anything we can do, just let us know. You’re still our family.”
Brett dropped his tray on the table with a crash. “Girls are such bitches!” he shouted before plopping his muscular body across from me, causing the whole table to vibrate.
“Hey!” Melissa smacked his shoulder.
“Present company excluded of course,” he continued with a wink in her direction. “Good to see you, Cass.” He smiled, shoving a monster-sized sub sandwich into his mouth.