Page 92 of The Score We Never Settled

“So you…fix things?”

“Better them really.”

I quirk a brow because the little shit is evading. “And you’d be doing what here, exactly? Because we have people who fix things.”

Caleb startles a little at the sound of my voice because he hasn’t heard it much. And the little fuck better have an answer if he wants to keep dating my sister, or I’m going to take him out back.

“Water,” he croaks out. “Um, drainage, stormwater management, environmental things.”

“So, you’re a nature boy?”

He reaches for his water and suddenly appears a little paler. “Kinda.”

“Well, you’re not scared of bugs or anything, right?” Caleb takes a sip of his water but bobs his head in response. “And you moved into the Scotchton house?”

He swallows. “Yes.”

“From Maryland.”

“Yep.”

“And my sister says your brother lives here?”

“That’s right.”

“And who’s your brother?”

“Briggs…” my sister warns under her breath, and I shrug because I was just over here trying to benice.

“No, it’s okay,” Caleb reassures her, suddenly manning up to my questions. “He can ask me anything he wants.”

“Fresh out,” I deadpan, and Everly’s body slumps because I’m making this dinner suck for her, while shattering her excitement for wanting to introduce me to herboyfriend. “Except your favorite baseball team, Caleb. My father is an Atlanta Braves fan, but he’ll be loyal to them until the day he dies. If you tell me the same answer, I might off myself at this table.”

The kid smirks for a second and lowers his head. “Boston. Red Sox.”

“Boston,” I repeat, and I could give him shit, I’d love to actually, but big brother shit and all that when I want Everly not to be stressing the whole time about it. “Well, as long as you didn’t say the Yankees.”

“No, sir.”

I point across the table at my father, but I don’t bother looking at him. “That’s for him. You can call me Briggs.”

“Appreciate it,” he replies. “I haven’t been to a game, though, this year. I was hopin’ to take Everly up there to meet my parents and?—”

“Stop while you’re ahead,” I drone. “You take my sister to a Boston game and try to convert her, I’ll kill you.”

Everly and he both chuckle like I’m kidding.

I’m not.

Meanwhile, my father shifts his weight because he doesn’t need to be in a conversation. No oneneedshim here.

“You should go see my son play,” he finally speaks up, sighing, then looking over at Caleb. “He’s phenomenal.”

Everly doesn’t stop smiling. “He watches him every night he plays.”

I can feel my pulse slow because, number one, I did not know that.

Number two, why would he bother?