The Game (That Girl, #2)(27)

“We’ve been here before, Lynlee.”

“I know, and I absolutely hate it,” she replies, climbing into bed.

“At least neither of us got hurt,” I offer.

“Jazzy, how can you say that when your feet are cut up and you sliced your belly?”

“Because I did it all to myself. When we used to be scared and hide together in my bed, it was because someone else hurt you. Everything that happened today, I did to myself.”

“You don’t deserve what you’re doing to your body.” Lynlee wipes a tear from her cheek.

“I promise I won’t do it again, Lynlee. Please trust me. I just don’t know how to feel. Ever since the day you left me, I haven’t been sure of anything.” I pause, holding back the tears. “I don’t know how to live. You left me, and let’s face it, you were my world. Then my dad died, and I lost my baby. How do I live?”

I let the tears flow down my cheeks when I finish. This is the most honest I’ve been since the move. There is a searing pain lingering after the truth leaves my lips, and it’s comparable to the addictive pain of cutting.

“I don’t know the answers, but you can never cut yourself again, Jazzy. I can’t handle it.”

“I won’t. I promise. I haven’t cut forever, and I don’t know what came over me.” I pause, staring at the pale blue walls and the Mother Goose decorations everywhere. “Levi has me all flustered.”

Lynlee crawls further down the bed with me and grabs my hand. “I don’t have any of the answers, Jazzy, but don’t ever hurt yourself again. You’ll find where you belong. Give it time.”

“But you did it, Lynlee. You found your way. How?”

“Lincoln.” Lynlee eyes light up. “He saved me. Gave me a new name and became my life.”

Her words offer me no hope. A man will never be able to provide these things for me. I need to find my way on my own, but don’t know where to start.

Lynlee hands me another tissue. “You have me. I’m not leaving this time. And you have Lincoln. We’ll be your family until you find your way.”

“Can I be honest right now?” I ask.

“Always, Jazzy.”

“Okay, honest,” I repeat. “I’ve never forgiven you for leaving me. I understand it. Trust me, I do, but I’ve never been able to fully forgive you.”

She grabs my chin and forces me to look at her. “And I’m okay with that.”

“I found my way. I had to do it for me. You’re doing it now for you. It’s not easy, but when you find your place in this big world, you’ll know it. I only hope there’s room for me.”

“Always room,” I whisper.

“We better get out there before they come back.”

Sitting up and grabbing Lynlee by the shoulder, I ask, “What in the hell is the story with the one with crazy eyes? She’s more hyper than SpongeBob SquarePants.”

Lynlee laughs at my question.

“I’m serious. My god, does she ever shut up?”

“It’s Jenni, and give her a break. Trust me, she’ll grow on you.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, she is the one who taught me to give blow jobs, and for your information, Lincoln says I’m the best ever.”

“Yeah, no shit, he says that. He’s not dumb. He just wants his dick sucked.”

Lynlee throws a pair of Toms at my head. “There’s the old Jazzy. Put those on, and let’s go out in the living room. You have to meet Jewels’ little boy.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The pain stinging my feet and the more intense bolts of pain in my stomach don’t bother me a bit. It’s not feeling anything that scares the shit out of me. I guess it’s time to go see a doctor. I want to feel. Yes, I want that.

I grab my phone and wish like hell I had Levi’s number. I want to text him and apologize. We both acted like idiots.

The shoes Lynlee tossed me catch my attention. They are yellow. I f*cking hate yellow, and she knows it. I despise the color and have no idea why. I wonder if she did it on purpose as a little payback. Slipping both feet into the shoes, I realize the pain is pretty intense. I’m such an idiot. Walking causes even more pain, but it’s the kind I can get used to. Silently, I thank the shoes for distracting me from thoughts of Levi and what-ifs. You know, all the what-ifs that float through a girl’s daydreams when she’s falling hard for a guy. Yep, those damn things.

Walking down the hallway to the living room, I notice how normal this house is. It’s like houses I know and am used to. It’s not a mansion or a castle, but a regular home, and I feel comfortable. Then I hear her voice.

“What are you doing, Jenni?” Lynlee asks.

As I round the corner, I eye Jenni picking—or more accurately, digging—at her crotch. She’s wearing the tightest pair of red skinny jeans with cute boots and a tank.

“I’m picking my underwear out of my cooter.”

And it’s official. I’m pretty sure I can never be a friend to a girl who refers to lady bits as a cooter, with her hand digging at it. I notice the blush covering Jewels’ face. Lynlee rolls her eyes, and Jenni continues to pick at her crotch. I guess I could empathize, because damn, those jeans are tight.