Page 17 of The Perfect Play

He pulled his hand away, and I had to school my expression. The large bump poking out from his head was already turning colors. “Just put this on it for a few minutes. You’ll have a battle scar. I should’ve just told you to move.”

A weak smile and a deep chuckle caused me to laugh back. “I thought I could handle anything Penny Davis threw at me. I guess we just proved you have more secrets than you led on.”

I sat next to him, surprised by the small amount of excitement I felt at his compliment. I pulled at the grass around me, staring at the blades of green in my hand before tossing them in the air. “Not really secrets. Just a girl trying to get a scholarship.”

“A scholarship is really that important to you, huh?” The way his one eye stared into mine made me grateful I was sitting.

“My life isn’t all cake and ice cream like yours. I work to pay for most of my activities, and when I’m not working, I’m either practicing or studying so I can actually get out of this town when we graduate.”

His smile faltered, and he looked away. “I can understand that. But you still have a happy family, right? I mean, it’s got to be easier now than it was when your mom was here.”

I stiffened. I’d never really talked about my mother to anyone but Jake. The months before she finally walked out seemed like they’d never end, with the constant screaming and fighting about the littlest things. I’d spent a lot of time over at Jake’s house during those days, creeping back into the house when she’d driven off or I knew for sure she was asleep.

“Yeah, that’s true. I just feel bad for my dad. He’s such a good guy and deserves to be happy too. Instead, he’s stuck trying to provide for two kids and barely sleeps because he’s always taking on extra jobs to keep up with the mortgage or the bills.” As much as I didn’t want it to happen, sometimes I wished my dad would just sell the house so he wasn’t working himself to an early grave. But he’d already taken a hit to his pride when Mom walked out. Losing the house would be something he wouldn’t make it back from.

“Well, your family looks a heck of a lot happier than mine.” He pursed his lips, not meeting my gaze.

I reached over, touching his arm with my fingers. Electricity shot through me. “What happened? Your family was always happy too. Remember all the cookouts we’d have between our yards and the fun nights out our moms would plan?”

He nodded, looking more sad than happy at the memories. “Those were some good times. But then things changed. My dad got that promotion, and it was like our world just turned out to be a fake, you know?”

I opened my mouth to say something, when I heard the back door screech open. My head snapped in that direction, and I saw Derrick coming through with my father close behind.

“Penelope Davis, what is going on?” It was the sternest expression I’d seen from my father in years, and panic sank into my limbs. His earlier words to stay away from Jake popped into my thoughts, and I knew that Jake holding an ice pack to his head while we sat next to each other was definitely not something he thought he’d see.

Jake and I stood up together, and I brushed my hands off on my shorts, trying to find the words to explain the situation and make it look less, well, worse than it was.

“I was practicing out here—”

“It’s my fault, sir,” Jake said, cutting me off. “I came over and thought I could catch one of Penny’s riseballs and ended up with a big lump on the head instead.”

The anger melted from my father’s expression, and within seconds, he was laughing harder than I’d seen in forever. “That pitch is wicked. You’re a brave man for even standing in the line of fire without equipment on.”

I turned to Jake, seeing him chuckle a bit as the mound on his forehead stuck out, reminding me it was my fault. So much for Dad going postal on the kid.

“I’m going to grill some burgers for dinner,” my dad said, turning to walk back to the house. “Make sure you check for signs of a concussion, Jake. I know how much you mean to your team, and it would be a shame if you lost the game against Croydon next week.”

“I hope that turns black,” Derrick said, laughing and pointing as he moved to get something out of the shed.

I waited several seconds before turning to Jake, not quite sure what to say next. “I’m sorry about your head. I just hope it doesn’t ruin any of your Saturday night plans. If anything, you might get more girls ready to make out with you in sympathy with this.” I reached up and lightly tapped the exposed bump, trying to hide a smile when he jumped back.

“Really? Who pokes a forming bruise?” He slapped the ice pack back over the spot and frowned. “And contrary to popular belief, I don’t kiss every girl I meet.”

Folding my arms across my chest, I bit my tongue, willing the words not to spill out. But I didn’t have that kind of willpower for long. “Could have fooled me.”

Jake held up his hands, giving me the ice pack. “This was a bad idea. I was hoping we could be friends again, you know, like we used to be. At least I know your father doesn’t completely hate me.”

“What do you mean by that?” My defenses rose, ready to punch him if he said anything bad about my father.

“He’s barely acknowledged me over the past few years. It’s just nice to see him smiling at me again.”

I balled my hand into a fist and slugged him in the shoulder. “I think he always thought of you as a son. When things went south between us, he turned into a protective bear. I can only imagine this looked a lot like the past, when things were simpler.”

Jake looked at me, his eyes searching my face, a softness in his features that I hadn’t seen since a few weeks before my mother had taken off. Were all the memories invading his brain like they were mine?

I felt the sarcasm drain away, and it made me feel vulnerable, something I’d never wanted to happen in front of him again. The attraction I now felt for the boy in front of me went way beyond what I’d tried to bury over the last few years. He was all wrong for me, and yet, there was still that goodness under the bad-boy exterior he tried to show the world.

“I better get home. But I’ll see you around, Davis.” He winked at me, and the effects were paralyzing. He’d made it to and around the wooden fence that separated our yards before my hand was able to rise up and wave.

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