Page 96 of The Games We Play

“I’ve got the perfect thing,” she says, her blonde hair bouncing as she walks to the kitchen cupboard. “Will this do?” She hands me a large, white plastic bowl.

“It’s perfect. Is Clutch okay?”

She nods her head. “He’s lucky he doesn’t have a concussion, and the side of his face is a mess. But otherwise he’s fine. What they did tonight was underestimate their opposition.”

I want to ask what she knows. But I’m going to wait for Spark to tell me. I’m not sure I can deal with that imbalance forever, but while I’m rebuilding his trust, I don’t ask any more questions. “Thanks for the bowl,” I say, heading for the door.

“Heard you and Spark are at odds,” Gwen says, but the softness in her voice makes me turn.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t look out for him.”

She smiles softly. “Good. He’s better with you. Whatever it is, if I can help, let me know. Us women, we need to stick together.”

I nod, a little choked by the idea that I’m a “we” with anyone. Spark and I are a we. Now Gwen and the other old ladies and I are a we. Sometimes you find family when you aren’t even looking.

In Spark’s bathroom, I fill the bowl with soap and warm water to make bubbles. When I step out, Switch is just leaving, but a young woman with beautiful dark skin and thick curves steps inside.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” I ask, placing the bowl on his dresser.

She looks flustered for a moment, looking over to Spark first before facing me. “I just wanted to see how he was.”

“Well, he’s beat up, and I’m about to clean him up.”

She steps farther into the room. “I can do that.”

I don’t have the energy for this. I’m not even sure I know what Spark wants. But all I know is, if this is the end of Spark and I, then this is how it needs to happen. With him knowing I love him and will take care of him, through sickness and in health.

“You can’t.” I step closer to the bed.

The woman steps right into my space and grips my cheeks with her thumb and forefinger. “Spark and I go way back.”

Without thinking about it, I shove her. Hard. Then I try to crack my jaw to shake away the ache of her fingers. “Way back is where you belong. Just get out.”

“Spark would want me—”

“Just ... leave,” Spark grunts, wincing as he tries to lift himself.

“Steady,” I say, easing the pillow beneath his head. His words hurt, and I can’t help the sting of tears. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll go.”

“Not ... you. Kenzie.”

“But, Spark. I—”

His raised hand cuts her off. She glares at me as she turns on her heel and leaves. I watch her back until she is out of sight.

“Who was she?” I ask, even though I’m not emotionally prepared for the answer. I always assumed the two of us were monogamous, but maybe we weren’t.

“No one who thought ... she was ... someone.”

“A no one you slept with recently?”

“I don’t answer ... to you ... little chick.”

I should leave. He’s still mad at me and clearly in pain. People say shit that they don’t mean when they are in that place. “Let me clean you up,” I say, even as I try to shake off the jealousy, knowing Kenzie and Spark were once obviously something to each other. How can I even compete with someone like that? Not in a pathetic way, but in the way when you realize you’ve been punching above your weight.

“I don’t ... need ... your help,” Spark grunts out.

The bed sags when I perch on the edge. “Remember that night you broke into my house, when I was hurt after the accident, when none of this, you and me, made sense? You carried me to the bathtub and took care of me.” Heat fills my cheeks as I think about exactly what he did to me that night.