Getting Played (Getting Some 2)

“Do you know what they say about you?” Jason asks from behind Lainey’s shoulder. “The stories the other kids tell about the different girlfriends you’ve screwed around on, and crazy hookups and how you’re like this legendary player around town?”

Karma sucks. If I had a time machine, I would go back and kick my younger self’s ass. It’s all his fault, the little fucker.

“But it didn’t bother me. Because I believed you cared about us. No way he’s like that now, I thought—he’s into my mom—he’d never hurt her like that.”

The words scrape raw up my throat.

“I didn’t, Jason. I wouldn’t.”

But he just shakes his head and jabs his finger at me. “Screw you for making me believe you.”

There’s a special kind of peace, especially for a boy, in knowing your mom is safe. If no one’s around to ensure that, the responsibility falls on your shoulders, even if it’s not supposed to—that’s how it feels. It must’ve been a relief for Jay to know, for the first time in his whole life, that his mom wasn’t alone. That she had someone to take care of her, protect her . . . love her.

That’s blown to hell now, but I swear on my life, I’m going to give that back to him. To both of them.

Lainey holds up her arms between us, like she’s afraid the kid is going to take a swing at me—and at this point, he might.

“Jason, get in the truck. Now.”

With a final glare my way, he climbs in, slamming the door behind him.

Lainey stands stiff and distant, her hands cradling her stomach, her shoulders and back strung tight with distrust and hurt. She can’t hide it and doesn’t try to, it radiates off her like the vibration of a bass drum. And I just want to take it away, make it better. I want to rewind to last night when she kissed me with soft, pliant, laughing lips and every part of her body and her heart was mine for the taking.

I reach out, kneading the tension in her shoulders. I press my forehead against hers, whispering, “I know this looks bad, baby. But I swear, it was nothing. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

For a moment, she leans into me and I soak up her scent and closeness greedily. But then she takes a deep breath and backs away on the exhale, lifting her chin and hardening her eyes.

“I have to get Jason home—he has to be my priority right now.”

“I know.”

“I have to talk to him, calm him down, figure out . . . I have a lot of things to figure out, Dean.”

“All right. I’ll come to the house after school and we’ll straighten everything out.”

For a second, Lainey looks like she’s going to tell me not to come, which would really suck because there’s no way that’s happening.

But then her eyes drop and she nods. “Okay.”

Okay. Good. I can salvage this. I may be down but the game’s not over. Not even close.

I move my hand to the back of her neck, pulling her near and kissing her cheek. “Don’t give up on me, Lainey. Not yet.”

~ ~ ~

Henry the janitor cleans up the glass in my classroom and boards up the window, but it’s still a major distraction. I assign busy work across the board and the kids complete it without commentary or complaint. Because high school is a petri dish of rumor and innuendo, so the stories of the shattered window in the Dork Squad class, the drama between me and Jay, and me and Lainey—and hell—probably some whispers about me and Kelly, spread like a contagion through the halls.

Garrett swings by my class on his lunch break, but I’m too strung out to talk about it. It’s like my lungs are filled with concrete. The only person I want to talk to is Lainey, and if I let myself contemplate what she must be thinking right now, I’ll lose my shit.

Garrett pats my shoulder.

“I’m here if you need me, man. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

Finally, after what seems like a week, the clock ticks to three o’clock. I weave my way through the mass exodus of students, and I’m out the door while the echo of the last bell is still ringing in the hallway. Then I’m in my car, driving straight to Lainey’s house.

When I pull in the driveway, I see that she’s called in the reserves. Three of her sisters are waiting for me on the front porch, and I just bet number four is inside.

That was fast. I wonder if they all took a bus together or something.

I walk up the steps to the door.

“She doesn’t want to see you yet,” Judith says.

“Then she can tell me that herself.”

I open the door and walk inside. Lainey is in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar. And it’s not good. She looks down, beaten—so frigging sad.