The Perfect Game (The Perfect Game 1)

“Jack, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine. ” I reached out my hand and settled it on his thigh.

He eyed it for a split second. “Fifty cents, Kitten. ” I jerked my hand away, shaking my head.

“I was just joking, Cass. Listen, don’t say anything to anyone, okay? Not many people know that story and I’d like to keep it that way if possible. ”

“Of course. It’s not my story to tell. ” I smiled, hoping he believed me.

The moment I thought he was done revealing his past, he continued. “My mom walked out the door just as my grandparents were pulling into our driveway. I remember hearing yelling, car doors slamming, and tires screeching. And I’ll never forget the sound of Dean crying and screaming out for her. ”

His eyes looked like he was a million miles away as I watched him relive his childhood nightmare. “The next thing I remember was my grandmother’s smiling face walking through our front door. She told us to run upstairs and pack our things so we could sleep over at her house. I think it was really hard on them, suddenly having two little boys around, but my grandparents never complained. Not once. ” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Have you seen your mom since?”

“No. ” His response was sharp.

“Haven’t heard from her or anything?” I asked, wondering what kind of mother could just up and leave her two boys and never come back.

“Not a word. ”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine. So, how rotten of a kid were you,” I asked with a smile, not really meaning the question.

He reclined the driver’s side seat and focused his gaze on the night sky. “Pretty rotten. Dean wasn’t, though. I mean, he was, but he was just copying me. He stopped being bad the minute she left. I think he thought if he was the perfect son, it would bring her back. She’d come home if he was extra good all the time,” he said as he tilted his head toward me, “…or something. ”

“What about you?”

“I was so angry. I thought it was all my fault that she left. So I figured if she was never coming back, what was the point in being good? I got into a lot of trouble. ”

“Like what kind of trouble?”

He took a deep breath. “I got in a lot of fights. ” He looked into my eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess that hasn’t changed much. ” His stomach moved in and out as he laughed bitterly and I found my eyes drawn there.

“He deserved it,” I whispered, reclining my seat as well.

“He did, right?”

I smiled.

“I got in a lot of fights. And I got in a lot of trouble with girls. I basically took on the philosophy in high school that if I could either hook up with a girl at every party, or beat someone up, then they wouldn’t talk about the fact that I had no parents. Fucking and fighting were the ultimate distraction. ”

I frowned, my stomach churning slightly at his bold revelation.

“What?” He turned his head toward me, his eyes concerned.

“It’s just that you still sort of act like that, you know?”

“I know. Old habits are hard to break. Plus, I’m good at being bad and screwing things up. Just ask Dean. ”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I honestly wasn’t sure how I felt. I’d never met anyone who had lost both of their parents except to death. I couldn’t imagine living with that knowledge, or feeling somewhat responsible for it happening.

“When did you start playing baseball?”

His eyes lit up. “My grandparents signed us up for every sport imaginable when we moved in. They thought it would help. ” A slight chuckle escaped from his lips, his mouth curving upward. “I don’t remember, but my grandma said I would cry whenever the season ended. ”

I laughed, imagining the scene in my mind. “That’s cute. You loved it even then. ”

He released a breath. “Being on that pitcher’s mound, it’s the one thing I’m really good at. The one thing I haven’t fucked up. And when I’m on the field, everything else fades away. You know?” He turned to look at me, his eyes craving understanding.

I smiled and he continued. “It’s like my mind is clear when I’m out there. It’s not about my mom or my dad or the stupid shit I’ve done. It’s about me, the ball, and the batter. It’s the one place in the world where I feel like I’m in control. Like I have a say in what happens around me. ”