I’d replayed every moment of that kiss for days, wondering what happened or where it went wrong. I was still no closer to an answer today than I was the day it happened. The only thing I could think of was that there was something holding Melissa back, but I’d be damned if I had a clue as to what it could be.

Summer was in full swing, and I’d started interning with Jack’s agents a couple of weeks ago. I had no idea the amount of work and detail that went into being an agent, but I was fascinated by it all. The fact that the guys I worked for seemed to want the best for all their clients didn’t escape me. I knew enough to know that there were agents out there solely focused on getting whatever lined their pockets the best, with no regard to what their client wanted or needed. Marc and Ryan didn’t conduct their business that way, and I respected that.

They kept me running around, delivering contracts to players’ houses, picking up office supplies, searching the Internet for new talent. I learned to create spreadsheets like I’d been doing it my whole life. Side note—I hadn’t. I found myself thriving off the chaos, and the constant state of being busy gave my brain little time to think of anything but work. I loved it.

Cassie had been visiting Jack upstate this past weekend, and was on her way back home tonight. I’d done my best not to text either of them, knowing they didn’t have enough alone time as it was. I’d been half tempted to call Melissa and take her out while she was at her apartment alone, but the other half of me was too scared to hear her tell me no.

If I was more like my brother, I’d force her to give me a chance, and would refuse to take no for an answer. But I wasn’t like him when it came to matters of the heart. If girls rejected me, I walked away, believing it was what they wanted.

I figured that if Melissa wanted to see me, she had my number and knew how to use it. And so, in order to lessen the sting of her rejection, I simply avoided going over there or seeing her.

But the problem with that was she never seemed to leave my thoughts. I found myself hoping that our kiss in the car plagued her the same way it did me.

My phone blared, waking me up from a nap. Between school and work, I was exhausted, and had started taking random afternoon naps on the weekends the same way Gramps did.

Bleary-eyed, I looked down at my ringing phone and noticed Jack’s name.

“Brother,” I answered sleepily.

“You’re not sleeping, are you?” he teased.

“Well, not anymore.”

“Wake your ass up. I have something to tell you.” He sounded excited, way too happy for Cassie having just left.

Intrigued, I rubbed at my eyes and perked up. “What?”

“I got called up to Double-A. I leave in two days.”

“Shut up, man. Jack, that’s awesome! Congratulations. It’s only a matter of time before you go all the way.”

“Don’t jinx it, brother! I just had to tell you. I’m gonna hang up and call the house. Don’t tell them. Let me.”

“I won’t. I’m proud of you,” I said with a smile I wished he could see.

“Thanks. Talk soon,” he said before ending our call.

I waited, listening for the sound of the house phone before hearing its shrill ring echo down the hallway. Gran’s excited voice rang out, and I rolled out of bed to celebrate with them when they hung up.

• • •

Jack’s new location was in Alabama, playing for the Double-A Diamondbacks team. The next stop was Triple-A, and then it was on to the major leagues—or “the show,” as the players called it. My brother was one step closer to the show, and I knew in my gut that it was only a matter of time before he’d make it there.

The best thing about him being drafted was that all the Double-A games were broadcast online, so I could watch them with Gramps. Tonight was no different, with the exception of the fact that I was on the edge of my seat. Jack had pitched six innings so far without giving up a single hit, a walk, or hitting a batter. No one had gotten on base.

I fired off a text to Cassie, making sure she was watching this too.

 

Dean: He has a perfect game (but I’m not supposed to talk about it). Tell me you’re watching.

Cassie: I’m watching. What’s a perfect game?

Dean: When no one from the opposing team gets on base. Don’t talk about it anymore. Just watch. And pray it lasts three more innings.

Cassie: Okay! :)

 

Gramps and I sat glued to the damn computer, our faces inches from the screen as we held our breath with every pitch Jack threw across the plate.

Gran walked up every so often to ask for an update before scooting away again. She’d been spending an awful lot of time in that new car she hadn’t wanted, making excuses to run to the store or pick up dry cleaning when we didn’t dry clean anything. Gramps and I both laughed at her, knowing exactly what she was doing, but neither of us was crazy enough to call her out on it.

With each inning that passed, my nerves stretched even tighter. If I was this wound up sitting in my house just watching the game, how the hell did my brother stay so damn relaxed pitching it?

Gramps and I both knew the rules and superstitions about baseball, and we abided by them religiously. When a pitcher had a no-hitter going, on his way to a perfect game, you didn’t talk about it. You didn’t even mention it. I could only pray that my text message to Cassie hadn’t counted. Even the rest of the team stayed as far away from Jack during their at-bats as they could, making him the most isolated player in the game. No one talked to him, not wanting to risk jinxing it.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, I held my breath as the last batter entered the batter’s box. Jack was one out away from pitching a perfect game, something most pitchers never accomplished in their entire career.

The first pitch was a curve ball. Strike one.

Two more, big brother. You got this.

The next pitch was low and inside. Ball one.

Anxiety twisted my stomach as the next two pitches went by, one of them a foul ball that shot behind the dugout like a cannon.

Jack leaned down to read the sign the catcher gave him. He nodded, agreeing with the pitch choice. He released the ball and the batter swung as I held my breath, hoping like hell the batter would ground out if he made contact at all.

The ball slammed into the catcher’s glove as the umpire screamed, “Strike three! You’re out!” and the batter slammed his bat against the dirt.

“He did it! He pitched a perfect game!” I yelled at Gramps as if he hadn’t just been watching the same thing I had.

We jumped up from our seats and hugged, shouting with excitement. From the look on his face, I knew Gramps was wishing we were there to celebrate with Jack in person as much as I was.

Gran walked in. “What’s with all the yelling?”

“Jack pitched a perfect game, Ma,” Gramps yelled before grabbing her and swinging around the floor, spinning and dancing.

I fired off a text to Jack that simply read, Congratulations, as one from Cassie came in saying how excited she was.

It was a good night to be a Carter fan.

• • •

My cell phone rang early the next morning and I grabbed it, silencing it before it woke up the entire house. I looked at the clock, noting how damn early it was before answering.

“Jack? Do you know what time it is here?”

“Dean. Ah shit, Dean.”

I immediately sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. He sounded weird, which couldn’t be good.

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” My mind raced, wondering if he’d gotten hurt, or in a car accident. I couldn’t have prepared myself for what was about to come.

“I fucked up, little brother. Shit, I fucked up so bad.” He breathed into the phone, and I thought I heard him crying.

Chills raced down my body as worry and confusion ripped through me.

“What happened? What did you do? Jack, tell me what happened.”

He sucked in a breath, the sound raspy in my ear. “I slept with some chick last night,” he said, and my head started to spin. “I woke up this morning, and she was in my fucking bed.” He sounded beyond disgusted.

“You what?” I shrieked. “Tell me you’re kidding. Tell me you’re fucking kidding, Jack.”

I was instantly sick to my stomach. In one night, Jack had gone from having the greatest game of his career to completely obliterating his personal life. I knew it, and he damn well knew it too.

“I don’t know what to do, Dean. I don’t know what to fucking do.” He sounded borderline hysterical, like he was going to lose it, and I didn’t know what to tell him. What could I possibly say that would make what he’d done last night better?

“How can I fix this?” He sounded desperate, broken, and it fueled my sudden anger.

“Fix it?” I said with a sadistic laugh. “Yeah, right. Cassie will never forgive you for this.”

“I know. You think I don’t know that?” he shouted, but pulled himself together. “Sorry, man. I’m beside myself right now. I can’t believe I let this happen.” The sound of his footsteps in the background told me he must be pacing somewhere.

“How did you? How did this happen?”

I didn’t want to believe the things Jack was saying. He loved Cassie more than he’d ever loved anyone, and somewhere deep inside I waited for him to yell April Fool into the phone, even though April had been months ago.

“The team went out to celebrate, and I got drunk. Really fucking drunk. And this chick was relentless. I told her no a million times, but then I said yes once.”

Oh Jesus. I could just picture the scene in my head—Jack out celebrating with his team after his big win, a groupie coming on to him, not leaving him alone. I’d seen it before.

But Jack had never had anything to lose before. And I honestly hadn’t seen him allow that kind of thing around him since he’d started dating Cassie. To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

“Damn, Jack.” I ran my hand through my hair, hating that he had done this. To himself, to Cassie, to me. I didn’t want them to break up, and I didn’t want to lose Cassie as a friend. “How could you do this?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I didn’t want to. Fuck, I was beyond loaded last night. I don’t think I’ve ever been so drunk before. I know it’s no excuse, but I’ll never drink again,” he said, his voice anguished. “I swear it. I’ll never touch another drop of alcohol. I’ll never talk to another groupie.”

Jack was bargaining—with God, with me, with whomever he hoped was listening. I’d never seen this side of my brother before, and it scared me.

I sat alone in my dark room, worried sick about all Jack could lose. The rational part of me knew the right thing to do was to tell Cassie, that she deserved to know, but the rest of me didn’t want her to know. What purpose would it serve?

Was it worth the pain Cassie would go through if Jack was truly sorry? He’d never do it again; I was certain of that. Although, I would have bet money that he would have never done it in the first place.

“Are you going to tell Cassie?” I tossed the million-dollar question out there and waited for his response.

I thought I heard him sniff across the line and tried to imagine him crying, something I’d rarely ever seen in our entire lives.

“I don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “I called her this morning right when I woke up, and I wanted to tell her. I wanted to be honest with her, you know, do the right thing? But the second I heard her voice, I panicked. I couldn’t do it. I’m so sorry, sorry for screwing up, but I don’t want to lose her over this. I can’t lose her.”

He breathed deeply, and I could hear him pacing again. “I fucked up, Dean, I made a mistake. But I’ll never fucking make it again. Ever. I swear. But if I tell her, she won’t stay. She’ll leave me. I know I deserve it, but it’ll destroy me.”

Jack was right. There was no way that if he confessed this sin to Cassie that she would forgive him and stick around.

He sighed, and the line was quiet for a moment before he asked, “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I’m really fucking pissed at you right now,” I admitted. “But I don’t know what the right thing to do is. If you tell Cassie, you’re only going to hurt her and ruin the best relationship you’ve ever had. But if you don’t, can you live with the lie? Or will it eat you up inside every time you look at her?”

“I don’t know. I feel like the guilt from lying to her is my own fault. I’d suffer willingly if it meant she didn’t have to know, and we could still be together. That girl is my world.” He had whispered the last part, and I wondered if he was even talking to me anymore.

“You knew better,” I told him. “I can’t believe that you didn’t know better.”

My heart hurt for my brother, but at the same time I wanted to beat the shit out of him. For hurting Cassie, for risking his future. For letting me down.

I wanted to understand, tried to comprehend how he could let this happen. How his teammates could let this happen. Why didn’t anyone try to stop him?

Jack’s voice turned pleading as he said, “I made a mistake, just a stupid fucking mistake. Shit, I have to figure out what I’m going to do. Dean, you can’t say anything to her, okay? You can’t tell her, and you can’t tell Melissa either. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone. You’re my brother, and I don’t have anyone else in the world that I trust the way I trust you.”

“This is really messed up, Jack. I’m going to see her at school once it starts, and I’ll have to lie to her. You know I’m a shitty liar.”

It made me sick to know this horrible secret and have to keep it inside. Without a doubt, it would eat at me. My mind spun as I tried to calculate how long I could avoid Cassie without her wondering what was up. Probably not for very long.

“I’m really sorry for putting you in that position, little brother, but please. You can’t tell her. Please just do this for me right now. Until I figure out what I’m going to do. Okay?”

I squeezed my eyes closed before rubbing my hand across my face. “You’re my brother, Jack. I’m loyal to you, and I’d never betray you. But this really sucks.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. Fuck.”

“Just try and focus on why you’re there, okay? Don’t let this affect your pitching.” Before he could argue with me, I said, “I know, I know. Easier said than done.”

“No. It’s good. I can take all my aggression out on the batter. Anger is a good motivator.”

“Yeah, but heartbreak usually isn’t.”

Maybe Jack had the right idea before he’d met Cassie. Matters of the heart could be distracting, and avoiding relationships saved a lot of time and aggravation. Not to mention pain and heartbreak.

“I’ll stay focused. Don’t worry,” he yelled, frustrated, and I heard glass breaking in the background. “Shit. I’d better go clean that up. Thanks for listening. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Yeah. I was sorry too.