The Sweetest Game (The Perfect Game 3)

After one shot, I’d hoped we were done, but everyone had their own camera phone, and wanted their own picture. Soon a small crowd had formed, all clamoring for the same thing. Trying to keep my irritation in check, I obliged everyone wanting a photo with me before turning toward my brother, who had willingly turned photographer. “Sorry. Maybe we should have taken the train,” I said before continuing up East Fifty-Ninth.

“Nah. It’s cool,” he said with a smile. “Plus, you were actually nice to them. ”

“Fuck off. ”

“See? What’s your problem, man?”

“Don’t start with me,” I said through clenched teeth. I didn’t want to talk about this. My thoughts alone caused me enough grief. The last thing I wanted to do was actually talk about them.

“I will start with you,” Dean said harshly. “You’re being a real dick. And to Cassie, of all people. Do you want her to fucking leave you?”

I stopped walking. Mid. Fucking. Step.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” I glared at my little brother, my heart fucking pounding out each beat against my chest.

Dean hardened his expression. “She won’t put up with this forever. Eventually she’ll leave you. And it will be your own fault. ”

I moved to shove him but he dodged me. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare fucking say that. ”

“What? You don’t want to hear the truth? You’re unbearable right now. I’ve never seen you like this. And heaven forbid your hand not heal right and—”

I cut him off, not wanting to hear the next fucking word that came out of his mouth. Right now all I wanted to do was punch him in it. “Shut up, Dean. Shut the fuck up right now. You don’t know what it’s like. You have no idea how I feel. ”

“Then tell me! Tell someone!” he shouted and I swore the entire city stopped moving so they could listen.

“Keep your goddamned voice down,” I demanded and resumed walking. His fingers wrapped around the sleeve of my shirt and he pulled me back. “What the hell?”

“We’re talking about this,” he said as he leveled his gaze to mine. “So figure out someplace we can go to do it. I’m not taking no for an answer. ”

My stubborn nature refused to let me respond. Instead I marched forward, heading in the direction of the park. Central Park was massive. There were plenty of places we could go to talk and not be surrounded by prying ear

s.

As we crossed over Fifth Avenue, I turned to Dean and pointed. “That’s the Plaza Hotel. It’s Cassie’s favorite, she’s absolutely in love with it. And that fountain. ”

Dean looked in the direction of the hotel. “I can see why. It’s fantastic. ”

“Come on. The park’s right there. ”

I could tell Dean still didn’t get it. He didn’t know how grand this park was. I’m sure he assumed that the park would be the size of one of our parks at home. I should have told him that Central Park was more like Griffith Park, only more awesome.

Entering through the southeast corner of the park, it didn’t take long until the sounds of the outside world started to fade. The park was alluring in that way. You could cross the street in front of screaming cabs and tourists, and before you knew it you’d entered a world where birds were chirping, people were jogging, and the only other sound you heard were those of horseshoes clacking against the pavement. Submersed inside this world, it was easy to forget anything existed outside of it.

A few more steps and we were at the pond. “Wow,” Dean said with a smile. “So this is Central Park, huh?”

I laughed. Shit. I hadn’t laughed in days and my face knew it. It hurt. “This is barely Central Park. ”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, this is the pond. There’s a lake, a merry-go-round, an ice skating rink, baseball fields, a zoo, the meadow where they have concerts and shit. This place is huge. I still haven’t seen the whole thing. ”

“That doesn’t sound like a park. That sounds like a city. ”

I shrugged. “It sorta is, like a city within a city. ” Spotting some large boulders in the distance, I sped toward them as Dean followed behind. I climbed up on the largest one and sat on top. Dean climbed up next to me.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“Does what hurt?”