Page 27 of The Score We Never Settled

He even looks like he has signatures on the damn thing.

“Oh, shit,” Fallon pipes in, which is quickly going to turn bad in two seconds. “Golly, Cruz, what happened to your arm?”

She knows damn well what occurred with it because Zoe told her the tea quicker tonight than a damn melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

And Fallon, she loves getting under Cruz’s skin, always has.

It’s a pastime of theirs, really. While the women in this town fawn and treat Cruz like a lost king, she’s quick to remind him he’s still the eighteen-year-old asshole he always was.

And thatthisgroup doesn’t give a crap that he’s a professional MLB player.

In fact, we think he and his team suck.

“Just Briggs actin’ like the crazed lunatic he is,” Cruz remarks vaguely. “We had a misunderstandin’ and he seems to think that Layla and I can’t be friends.”

“Youain’tfriends,” Zoe retorts with a bit of bite to her voice. “Didn’t you date her to make him mad?”

“No,” he quickly recants. “I mean…Layla asked me if I could pretend to be her boyfriend so her Uncle Ben wouldn’t get suspicious about where she was goin’ and who she was with, but…I didn’t go outta my way.”

I mean, he’s not entirely wrong.

It was my idea.

“I think you did when you kept kissin’ her in public.”

“Had to keep it real to be believable, wouldn’t you say, Zoe? It wasn’t meant to make anyone upset.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Fallon drawls. “Why, you’re just a good ole country boy with zero brains in your head. I mean, all you know how to throw is a tiny ball, right, Cruz?”

“That makes me millions,” Cruz drops since he can’t help himself and his ego. “How’s that farm goin’, Fal? You still barely makin’ it by?”

She goes to stand—I swear, my bestie isn’t above smacking the crap out of him—before I mom-arm her to chill.

Fallon’s family farm has definitely had its ups and downs. She runs it, day and night, and even though she is drama-free from gossip, she has not been drama-free when it comes to the bank.

“Cruz,” I lightly chide. “I know you didn’t come over here to bother my friends. That didn’t work out for you the last time.”

His blue eyes skate back over to me, and he holds them blankly.

Regardless, I know he still remembers.

When Briggs abruptly left Magnolia Ridge, my girls were all over him. They wore Tennessee Bootlegger t-shirts—the Low-A team that Briggs went to—and would start talking about how he got signed before Cruz every time he’d walk into a room.

Cruz got his own karma thrown back at him. It was in front of him every day.

“No,” he finally says softly. “It didn’t. You can’t blame me for shootin’ my shot.”

“Harassing her isn’t going to get you brownie points,” Zoe comes in to try to rescue. “We all know what you did. So, how many broken arms is it gonna take for you to let it lie?”

“I told ya, darlin’, he’s got a few screws loose. Every time that boy sees me, he sees red.” He looks at me. “I ain’t got nuthin’ to do with anythin’ out of high school between you and me. We were friends. You encouraged me to play ball…I’ll forever be grateful for that, Layla Jean.”

To get you out of town so Briggs would stop freaking out.

Nonetheless, I’m not buying into his innocent act. He’s thrown more balls at Briggs’s body than over the plate than I can count. Then there was a charity event they both attended that turned into them going out back and beating the crap out of each other.

I know I’m still a topic of conversation.

I also know that Briggs plays into it.