The Other Game (The Perfect Game 4)

Officer Santos walked us out the door and when I asked about Cassie’s camera, told me that it was state’s evidence now and it had to stay with them until after the trial, which could be months.

Cassie would hate hearing that, but I felt a little better knowing that Jack was going to buy her a new one, even if she claimed to not want one.

As Brett and I pushed through the doors and walked into the warm night, I said, “I’m so glad that’s behind us.”

Brett laughed. “You and me both.”

“Thanks for coming down, man.”

“Anytime. See ya at school.”

We gave each other a knuckled fist bump before heading in opposite directions.

Personally, I was just thankful the piece of shit was behind bars and couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. I was also glad the cops had found him before Jack did.

Draft Day

With draft day for the major league right around the corner, our household had been far more tense than usual. Hell, our household wasn’t normally ever tense, to be honest.

We all seemed to walk on eggshells around Jack, worried about the level of pressure he must be under. His two agents, who couldn’t officially be his agents until he got drafted, called him almost daily with updates about the things they heard about him—what team was interested, what they were might offer, that sort of thing. Every phone call he got either gave him new information or contradicted what he’d been told the day before.

I knew they were only trying to keep Jack in the loop, but it seemed frustrating as hell on his end. But if he felt anything other than excitement and anticipation, he hid it well.

Gran and Gramps had been extra attentive toward him, following him around the house, asking if he needed anything. He endured their smothering in silence until he finally snapped one afternoon.

“I love you both, but you’re driving me fucking nuts right now. Just be normal!”

“Jack! Language!” was all Gran said before turning to finish cleaning the sink.

“Dean, come with me,” Jack called out as he grabbed his keys from the key organizer and pushed open the front door.

I ran to catch up to him. “Where are we going?”

“Shopping,” he shot back before hopping in his truck. He pulled out his phone, typed an address into a GPS app, and allowed it to guide us. “Do me a favor and call Melissa.”

I shot him a questioning look. “Why?”

“Just do it, damn it. I can’t talk while I’m driving. Just call her for me, please.”

Without asking again, I dialed her number.

“Hi!” she answered, her voice chipper.

“Hey. Jack asked me to call you, so . . .” I glanced at my brother, waiting for some direction.

“Ask her what kind of camera Cassie had,” he said, and understanding hit me.

“He wants to know what kind of camera Cassie had. Do you know?”

“Oh, hold on,” she said before I heard a door slam. “Sorry, she’s here in the apartment. Yeah, she had a Canon Rebel something or other.”

I laughed. “That’s helpful.”

“It is helpful. You’ll see when you get to the camera store.”

“Okay, I think that’s it.” I turned toward Jack, who stared straight ahead as he gave me a nod. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“‘Bye, Dean.”