The Other Game: A Dean Carter Novel (The Perfect Game #4) by J. Sterling Page A

I was floating, but the pain that followed felt nothing like floating. It felt like hell.
    When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was in someone’s arms. I glanced to my left, my head feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, to find Brett practically carrying me across campus, his arm looped underneath mine.
    I recognized where we were. “Hey,” I croaked out, and he slowed down.
    “Thank God. Are you okay?” He glanced at me, his eyes wide and worried.
    “My head hurts like hell.” I reached up and pulled my hand away, surprised to see blood wetting my fingertips.
    “It was worse before. It’s actually almost stopped,” he said, and I assumed he was referring to the blood.
    It was then when I noticed his shirt was stained red down the front. I pointed at it.
    “Mine?”
    “Yours.” He nodded, pulling the fabric away from his body before letting it go.
    “What the hell did he hit me with, anyway?”
    “A forty-ounce bottle of beer,” he answered, shaking his head at the memory.
    No wonder my head hurts so damn bad.
    “Where are we going?”
    “To the campus police station,” he said, and it all came back to me in a rush of pain and fury.
    “Where’s Cassie? Is she okay? What the fuck, Brett? Where is she? Where’s Cassie?”
    I tried to pull out of his grip, desperate to find Jack’s girl, but I was too unsteady. My vision was still a little blurry, and my head pounded with each beat of my heart.
    “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.
    That answer couldn’t have been more wrong. I shoved at him, trying to push him off me.
    “You don’t know? We have to go back!” I shouted. “We have to fucking go back and get her!”
    “Dean?”
    I thought I heard Jack’s voice coming from somewhere so I called his name out, although not very loudly in case I was hearing things.
    “Dean!”
    A figure in the distance sprinted toward us. When he got closer, I could see Jack’s face looked horrified and confused.
    “What happened?” he demanded. “Why are you so bloody? Are you okay?”
    Jack reached for me, patting me over to see where I’d gotten hurt as he looked around, frantic. Then he froze and said, “Wait. Where’s Cassie?”
    I looked into his eyes, terrified that I’d let him down and he’d never forgive me.
    “Where’s Cassie, Dean?
    “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But you’ve gotta go find her, Jack.”
    “What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?” he growled, but more at Brett than at me.
    “Dean was unconscious, man. What was I supposed to do?” Brett said, trying to explain.
    “Where are you two going?” Jack looked at the two of us as if suddenly realizing that we were walking into campus instead of out of it.
    “To the police station,” Brett said before I could.
    I grabbed my brother’s arm. “Jack, please go find Cassie. I’ll be fine. Some guy hit her.”
    His face turned cold with rage. “What do you mean, some guy hit her?”
    “Just go. Ask questions later,” I begged him.
    Jack sucked in a sharp breath to calm himself and looked me in the eye, his expression filled with pain. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Yes.” But I’ll never forgive myself if Cassie isn’t . “Go find her. I’ll be fine,” I said, and he didn’t hesitate for a second before he took off running.
    Brett propped me up as we headed toward the campus police office in the distance, its blue light illuminating the small building. We walked in silence, neither of us knowing what to say.
    When we reached the door, Brett pulled it open and shouted, “We need some help out here.”
    An older guy came around from behind a door and almost dropped his mug of coffee when he saw us. “Shit. Are you okay? What happened?” He placed the mug on top of the counter and moved around the desk that separated us.
    “I think it looks worse than it is,” I said with a smile before wincing from the pain. Even the light in the room hurt; it was too bright, too glaring.
    “Sergio,