The Other Game (The Perfect Game 4)

Jack reached for her hand and pulled her toward the living room couch. “We’ll be out here when you’re done,” he said before sitting down and pulling her onto his lap.

I didn’t need any more images of the two of them burned into my brain, so I walked into Melissa’s room and shut the door behind me. Scanning it quickly, I took it all in—the collage of pictures on the walls, the framed and signed movie posters, perfume bottles on her dresser, necklaces scattered over every free inch of space.

And her bed. Jesus, I’d never seen so many pillows in my life. Who needed that many, and how did my tiny pixie not get swallowed alive by all of them?

The room smelled like her, like lemons and sunshine. Hell, I might move right in and never leave.

Thankful that girls were a lot cleaner than guys, I turned on the shower and adjusted the nozzle. When it was the perfect lukewarm temperature, I stripped off my clothes and cautiously stepped inside.

The water hit my head, reminding me just how injured I was, and I stifled a shout and winced before moving out of its path. Frustrated, I stood there for a second, not entirely sure how to do this on my own. I couldn’t see where the blood or glass was, and every time I tried to run my fingers through my hair to check, I wanted to scream out in pain.

Finally, I decided to turn the water down so the pressure wasn’t so strong. When it was barely flowing from the showerhead, I backed into it and allowed it to drip on top of my head. It still hurt, and I found myself wishing that Melissa were here so she could help me.

Once I felt certain there was no glass in my hair, I scanned the edges of her tub and reached for a bottle of pink shampoo. It was either that or something purple, so my options were limited. After squeezing a small amount into my hand, I sniffed at it. Watermelon. No wonder she always smelled like fruity scents and summer.

Rubbing the soap into a lather on my head was almost torturous. The soap stung my open wound, and the blood had caked on so thick, I wasn’t sure it would ever rinse out. I stared down at my feet, almost in a daze as I watched the water swirl around them in a mixture of pink bubbles and red.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there; I just kept my head in the streaming water until it started flowing clear around my feet. All I knew was that I was shriveled up like a prune, and it felt like I’d spent an hour under the spray. When I determined that I’d done the best I could with my head, I turned off the water and stepped out, dripping as I searched for a towel under the sink.

After wrapping a blue-and-white striped beach towel around my waist, I walked back into the living room where Jack and Cassie still sat wrapped up in each other. Jack was running a finger down Cassie’s cheek and looking at her like she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

I cleared my throat. “Remind me that it’s going to fucking hurt next time I try to wash my hair.”

“I’m really tired,” Cassie said. “I’m gonna go to bed, okay?” She pushed off Jack’s lap and walked toward me. “Love you both.” She gave me another hug before whispering, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“So much for our weekend alone, huh?” Jack said with a frown.

I wanted to smack my brother for making me feel unwanted, but then Cassie looked at me, and our eyes locked for a moment.

“It’s okay. This is better, anyway,” she said, and I stuck my tongue out at Jack as she walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

I yawned. “I’m think I’m gonna get some sleep too, bro. Sorry if I ruined your romantic weekend.”

Jack stood up and wrapped me in a manly hug. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m glad you’re here. And I’m really glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you. Or her.” He nodded toward the bedroom door.

“I know. Same here.”

“Let me look at your head.” He tried to see the top of my head, but we were basically the same height these days, much to Jack’s annoyance.

“Bend down a little,” he said, and I did as he asked. His fingers tugged at my hair, parting the strands so he could see my scalp, and I winced before pulling away.

“That hurts. What are you doing?”

“Sorry. There’s still some glass in there. I’ll stop. Let me see the cut.” He searched through my hair again, trying to be gentle, but he was a guy with big hands and lacked the ability, even though he tried. “Found it.”

“How’s it look?”

“It’s pretty swollen and a little mangled, but the cut itself looks good. It’s not bleeding at all anymore.” He stood up straight. “Hey, before I forget, did you talk to Gran?”

“I lied to her,” I admitted, feeling guilty and trying to ease my conscience.

He laughed. “You,” he pointed a finger at me, “lied to Gran? Sweet little old Gran?”

“Shut up, man. I feel bad enough, but I had to.”

“What’d you tell her?”

I blew out a breath. “I just said that Cassie was all alone for the weekend and it made her uncomfortable. So I said that she