chapter 4 jack

The ball bounces against the pavement, the steady rhythm grounding me as I weave past an invisible defender and sink a shot from

the free-throw line. Swish.

"Still got it," I mutter.

"Still talking to yourself?"

I turn just as Jess strides

onto the court, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, looking like he owns the place.

Which, to be fair, is just my driveway.

"Still showing up uninvited?" I shoot back.

Jess grabs the rebound and tosses it at me. "Your mom let me in. Not my fault she likes me more than you."

"That's not a flex. She likes everyone ," I deadpan.

Jess snorts. "Fair."

We play for a bit, passing the ball back and forth, trash-talking whenever one of us misses. It's easy—we've been doing this since we were kids.

But then, out of nowhere, Jess drops a bomb.

"You still annoy Lara over that childhood mistake?"

I nearly fumble the ball. "What?"

Jess crosses his arms. "Dude. You've been bothering her for, what, years over something

dumb you did as a kid? You ever think about just… letting it go?"

Let it go?

I scoff, dribbling the ball aggressively. "She hates me."

Jess raises an eyebrow. "And you totally hate her back, right?"

"Obviously."

"Uh-huh," he says, clearly not believing me. "Because, you know… for a guy who claims to have moved on, you sure spend a lot of time in her business."

I roll my eyes. "It's fun."

Jess doesn't drop it. "Dude. You liked her back then."

I freeze for half a second before forcing a laugh. "What?"

Jess shrugs. "When we were kids. You were totally into her. Then she kissed some random dude, and boom—you flipped."

I chuck the ball at him. "That never happened."

Jess catches it with zero effort. "It did. And now you act like she personally ruined your life or something."

I snatch the ball back and take a shot. Swish.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I say flatly. "I don't even remember that."

Jess watches me for a beat, like he's trying to

decide if I'm full of crap.

I roll my shoulders. "You done with the

psychoanalysis, or are we playing?"

Jess sighs. "Whatever, man. Keep lying to yourself."

I pretend I don't hear that.

The second I walk through the door, a tiny human crashes into my legs.

"JACK!"

I barely have time to react before Sophie clings onto me like a koala. She only

does this when (A) she wants something or (B) she's in trouble.

I sigh, ruffling her hair. "What did you do?"

She gasps, all fake offense. "Why do you think I did something?"

"Because you always do something."

She huffs but doesn't argue. Instead, she tugs my hand and drags me toward the living room. "I need your help. It's an emergency."

I raise an eyebrow. "Did your stuffed unicorn get stuck behind the couch again?"

"NO," she says, very dramatically. "It's way more serious."

When we reach the coffee table, I finally see what's got her so worked up—a tiny, lopsided, disaster of a tiara.

I blink. "Uh. That's… a thing."

Sophie groans, flopping onto the couch. "I was trying to make a real princess

crown, but it looks like a potato! And the school play is tomorrow!"

Ah. So this is the crisis.

I cross my arms. "So, let me get this straight—you, the world's biggest perfectionist,

made a wonky tiara, and now you're in distress?"

She groans again.

I shake my head. "Man, life is hard when you're nine."

"TEN!"

she corrects immediately. "And it's not funny!"

I chuckle, plopping down beside her. "Okay, okay. Give it here."

She watches suspiciously as I inspect the tiara.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing it."

"You know how?"

"Kid, I can shoot a three-pointer with my eyes

closed. Of course I can fix a princess crown."

Sophie squints, unconvinced. But after a second, she hands it over.

I grab some glue, bend the wires, and—bam. Ten minutes later, it actually looks pretty cool. Not perfect, but definitely not a potato.

Sophie gasps. "JACK. It's so pretty!"

I smirk. "Told you I was a genius."

She launches at me, squeezing my waist. "You're my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother."

"Still counts."

I laugh, patting her head. "Alright, Your Highness. You're all set for tomorrow."

She grins, clutching the tiara like it's a rare

treasure. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

She tilts her head. "If you weren't so annoying, you'd be kinda cool."

I snort. "Wow. High praise."

Sophie just shrugs, skipping off with her fixed crown, already humming some princess song.

And yeah. She's a little menace.

But she's my little menace.