Page 126 of The Score We Never Settled

“I’ll make it up to them in the off-season.”

“You’re coming home?”

I perk a brow. “Where else would I go?”

“You never came home in the off-season.”

“Because I was making money to pay off my father’s mortgage, or you would tell me you’d leave if I showed up, so no, I’ve been exiled.”

“You forgot endorsement deals, talk shows, charity events with the women in beautiful gowns?—”

“Layla Jean,” I caution again. “I told you that was my manager.”

“She’s pretty.”

“You always say that. She’s Mercedes. And that’s all she is.”

Layla shrugs like it’s never bothered her, but it used to. “It’s good to have women on your side. The hustle mode is different.”

“Did you want me to fire her?”

Her eyes bulge. “Wh—no. Why would you fire her?”

“Because you still bring it up.”

“I just like to still give you shit.” She beams at me. “Besides, nothin’ beats charm like Magnolia Ridge, baby.”

“Uh huh.”

She gawks at me. “Are you meanin’ to say you don’t think we women are the best there is?”

“Just you,” I reply honestly. “And my sisters. Otherwise, I’d never come back.”

“Everly is workin’ at the bakery part-time.”

“Since when?”

“Starts this week. She’s excited.”

“You sure you’re ready for that?”

“How so?”

“She’s new. She’s going to need a lot of help.”

“Can’t be any worse than you.”

I throw a piece of broccoli at my phone, and Layla chortles beautifully. I wish I were in the same room with her, but this is the best we’ve got right now.

And wouldn’t miss it for the world.

36

LAYLA

Things haven’t been great.

In fact, I’ve never gone this long without speaking to my Uncle Ben, and it’s been so bad that he hasn’t come in on Wednesdays to get his pies for his weekly card game with the boys.