Page 11 of The Score We Never Settled

“Twice,” Fallon and I correct at the same time as she sidles up beside me.

“It was the pecan pie incident of 2023, wasn’t it, Lay?” Fallon adds.

“It was,” I confirm. “He cleaned me right out.”

Uncle Ben sends a weak scowl between the two of us, bouncing it back and forth because, with the two of us together, he’s unmatched. “I didn’t know it was for pies.”

“So I carry pounds of pecans around to snack on?” I press because my uncle knows damn well I do not.

My snack of choice is peppered jerky and lemonade. I had to keep the Southern belle in there somehow.

“You two ladies are a royal pain in my behind—” He waves a dismissive hand and begins toward the back exit. “—and I’ll let y’all gossip about Lord knows who or what.”

“Oh, it’s definitely awho,” Fallon mutters before she shouts at him, “Bye, Uncle Ben!”

“Don’tbyeme,” he scolds, pushing the door open and allowing it to slam closed on his own.

That’s when my best friend immediately turns to the side, clutches my triceps to spin me with her, and faces me head-on.

“Briggs Kerrigan ishere.”

I feel my body deflate because, yeah. “I know.”

Her gorgeous sky blue eyes widen in pure shock. She was, by far, the biggest fan of our non-existent relationship. However, that’s just because she’s always thought Briggs was hot. Not because he was good to me or for me, but because he “has a nice ass”.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just found out thirty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t youtextme?”

“Because he ambushed me, Fal. I’m still trying to figure out what I justsaw.”

Fallon loosens her grip on me and gives me this saucy little grin. “Girl, yousawwhat that man looks like. You’vebeenseein’ what that man looks like.” She narrows her eyes. “Then you dropped it.”

“I didn’tdropit,” I scoff. “It had to end.”

“Did it? Why?”

“No.”

“Layla, that man wasobsessedwith you.”

“Fallon, that man just wanted to screw me and have his fun. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t that deep.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was deep.” I hit her with an exasperated stare, which gets Fallon to smack her lips together and pull at the tips of some of her curly red hair. “You needed to spell it out for him, Lay. He’s a country boy, for God’s sake. They’re special. Ya need to get the paper and crayons out sometimes, it’s okay.”

“It’s always been more than that,” I reply. “You know that.”

Fallon twists her lips, not appearing like she wants to agree, but she has no other choice.

Briggs’s mother died when he was eight, something we share in common. His father spiraled, loved up on his two sisters, but he never could connect with Briggs. I think he blamed him for his wife’s death. She was on her way to pick him up from baseball practice and had a massive heart attack out of nowhere.

Regardless of whether she was going to pick up Briggs or not, it still would’ve happened.

His father drank, leaned heavily on his sisters for emotional support, but he distanced himself from Briggs. Then he developed congestive heart failure with all the stress and drinking.

It’s a story.