Page 13 of The Score We Never Settled

“His whole team was screaming for him to hit me,” he carps out on the other line. “This shit is gettin’ to be like dodgeball. Except with a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball straight at your head.”

He’s doing it on purpose.

I know Cruz. He’s trying to rile up feelings again between him and Briggs and keep the rivalry alive.

“Give me a number,” Briggs says suddenly. “How many times?”

“How many times, what?”

I wish I were there with him. I wish I could calm him down and be a support system.

“How many times can he try to hit me before I hit him back?”

I don’t want him to get into a fight at all. However, I don’t want him to just stand there and become a target either.

I sigh. “Twice?”

“Three,” Briggs says on the other side of the phone. “I can deal with three.”

“Briggs, no way?—”

“I love you, Short Stop, and I’m serious about us. I can do three before I hit him and piss you off.”

“You’re not going to piss me off if he keeps tryin’ to give you a head injury, Briggs.”

“Then I should’ve stuck with two.”

My fingers come up to my temples, and Fallon nestles into my side, pulling me into her body for comfort.

“You doing this for you?” she mutters. “Or for Uncle Ben? Or are you punishing Briggs for what he did?”

“I dunno anymore,” I emit honestly. “Uncle Ben still hates him. But I’m a grown-ass woman, he can’t keep tellin’ me what to do.”

“Right,” she agrees, bobbing her head. “We know Uncle Ben wants to protect you. But, with Briggs, I think it’s his way of protectin’ you. God only knows what Cruz has said. I think…I think he needs patience with someone who understands he’s not your normal country boy with a lovin’ mama and a daddy who raised him just right. He has no one, but he had you, Lay.”

My heart shatters a little at her words and the memories of Briggs spending Christmases alone with his sisters while his father was passed out. How he never got freshly baked cookies or a homemade birthday cake.

I made him one once.

Chocolate with rainbow sprinkles and strawberries.

He said it was his favorite.

I thought he was lying.

However, it didn’t stop me from using him as a guinea pig when I’d bake at home. I’ve always loved baking, and it’s why I went to community college and opened Buttercup & Brioche.

And it’d always be a place Briggs could get a new dessert he had never had before.

“Eight days, Lay,” Fallon quips through the silence of my thoughts. “This could be the best eight days of your life or complete misery.”

“I’m going with the latter.”

“I dunno,” she coos. “I have a feelin’ something crazy is goin’ to happen.”

I hope not.

Because the last thing I want to do is upset Uncle Ben and get him all riled up.