Page 20 of The Perfect Game

“Yep.” Serena didn’t move to turn around, and I tried to hold back the anxiety wrapping itself around my lungs.

The woman tilted her head, undoing her earrings. “Who’s your friend?” Her gaze looked me up and down, her expression neutral. Usually I felt dressed up in cargo pants and a polo, but in comparison to the clothes her parents wore and the extravagance of the house, I wished I’d escaped before they came in.

“This is Ben Clark. Ben, my dad and mom, Steve and Rachel Gates.”

Her father stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “We don’t get to meet too many friends of Rena’s.”

I put my hand in his, his palm basically swallowing up mine. For a moment, I had a vision of him crushing it, making it impossible for me to pitch in the tournament this weekend. I’d had to help someone with a fractured hand a few months ago at the clinic, and from the looks of it, rehabbing a broken hand wasn’t something I wanted to experience.

The handshake was firm, no pain inflicted. “It’s nice to, uh, meet you, um, sir.” My mind raced, trying to think of something better to say, some way to connect to this giant of a man and the father of the girl I had a crush on. I chanced a look in Serena’s direction, seeing an expression that matched her mother’s, only with the corners of her mouth tugged up slightly. “I was, j-just bringing Serena home after t-therapy.”

Now was not the time to start stuttering again. I really liked this girl, and I was totally messing up every chance I had at a date in the future.

“That’s right. How did your first therapy session go, doll?” Steve sat down on the other end of the couch, staring at Serena for an answer.

“It was great, aside from the fact that my parents forgot to pick me up.” She sighed, the sound more like exasperation. “I can’t wait to be done with rehab so I don’t have to rely on people all the time.” She turned in my direction. “I do appreciate it, Ben.”

The sadness in her eyes made me want to pull her into a hug and sit for a while, but with her father’s bulk sitting two feet away, that wouldn’t be the wisest decision.

“No problem. Um, I’ve got to run. The guys will be wondering where I am. It w-was nice to m-meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gates. See you later, Serena.” I jogged to the front door, unlocked it, and ran out to my truck. I’d never been so relieved to be outside and away from the eyes of her parents. Except I was just going one house down.

Once I parked in Nate’s long driveway, behind Jake’s Jeep and Dax’s small car, I heard the ding of a text message.

Thank you so much. Sorry things were so awkward. I’ll see you at the clinic sometime.

There was that hope again, spreading even though I wished it wouldn’t. I had a full-on crush for Serena Gates, and I was pretty sure that if things didn’t work out, it would do more damage to my brain than I could control.

Eleven

Serena

“What’s wrong, doll?” my dad asked, still sitting beside me on the couch.

“What’s wrong is that I can’t even count on my own parents for anything. How many games have you come to this year?” I took a breath, trying to calm the rising screech in my voice.

Mom took a seat on the wingback chair to my right, crossing her legs and looking just as proper as ever. “Serena, honey, your dad met me at the office to get fitted for a suit I just designed so it will be ready in time for the gala we have to attend next week. But you can count on us for things. And we’ve been to some of your games this year. We went to that tournament a few months ago over in Springside.”

I leaned forward, the nonchalance in her tone driving my anger to the breaking point. “That was the first tournament of the year, and you stayed for thirty minutes.”

Holding her arms out and looking around the room, Mom said, “We have to work so you can enjoy everything we have here. You should be grateful for all the things we can give you—your car, a nice home, spending money.”

“I don’t care about that, Mom. I hate being here all by myself.” I stood, not wanting to stay in the room for a moment longer. I left the crutches, sick of maneuvering with them and silently hoping that hopping through the house would make them more sympathetic.

“You’re going to hurt yourself more, Rena,” my dad’s voice called after me, but I focused on the steps in front of me instead of the soothing calm of his voice. How he could be so vicious on the football field but so chill outside of it, I’d never understand.

I shook my head once I got to the top of the staircase. “Is it too much to ask for you to actually care about me every once in a while?” Tears surged, and I knew I couldn’t hold them back any longer. I turned and hobbled to my bedroom, throwing myself on the bed with a sob.

Just a few moments passed before the side of my bed sank down and fingers combed through my ponytail. “Come on, girl. No tears.”

“Just leave me alone, Dad.” I sniffed, wiping at my cheeks before resting them back onto my arms as I stared down at whatever bedspread my mother had bought for me a few months ago.

“I can’t do that. Talk to me.”

The internal debate began, and several seconds passed before I pushed up from the bed and sat with my back against the headboard.

“It’s the same old thing, Dad. Let’s just forget about it.” I looked down, my fingers twirling the small ties in the quilt.

My dad’s finger lifted my chin so I was looking at him. “There are definitely things we’ve messed up on, Rena. We’re new to this parenting-a-teenager stage, just like you’re trying to navigate life as a seventeen—”

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