The Way We Score: A small-town, accidental pregnancy, sports romance. (The Bradford Boys)

“This is my fault.” We pass Dylan’s iPad between us, scrolling through the “exclusive exposé” on the TMI website.

“Garrett Bradford Leaving the Pirates???” The headline is typed in all caps with three question marks like it’s screaming at us.

“What do you mean?” Dylan’s tone is sharp. “How can this be your fault?”

I quickly fill her in on the mysterious call we got about a cat in a tree, and how it turned out to be a woman pretending to be a fan and asking a lot of personal questions.

“The way she asked the questions made me feel like I needed to explain.” I feel like such an amateur. “My spidey senses were tingling, and I did my best to be nice and get out of there.”

“You can’t be nice to these people.” Dylan stomps ahead of us in her jeans and yellow Cooters & Shooters tee. “It’s just like the guy who came here asking about the restaurant and pretending to be so interested in the Dare Nights and my spicy dishes.”

Her arms are crossed, and she’s fuming. She kind of reminds me of one of Ms. Plum’s chickens when they decide to peck at each other. Mad as a wet hen.

I quickly scan the article before putting my hand on her shoulder. “Yours was much worse. They said a lot of shitty things about you. This is at least mostly about me.”

Dylan squeezes my hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. These people are evil.”

We’re walking with Dylan back to the restaurant. My little sister is fuming and moving fast.

But Liv’s attention is focused on the article. “It’s so amateurish. Do people really read this? Why do they use so many exclamation points?”

“It’s garbage.” Dylan’s tone is sharp. “It’s hearsay and guessing what they think is going on based on the tiniest sliver of a fact, yet it’s presented as coming from a reliable source.”

“I guess talking to me is kind of talking to a reliable source.” I rub the back of my neck feeling like I’m the real problem. “I can’t believe how much she got me to say.”

“I’m sure you did not make Liv out as a manipulative clinger, faking pregnancy complications to get you home.”

“I only wish those complications had been fake.” I groan, putting my arm around Liv’s shoulders. “Flying back that night took ten years off my life.”

“I don’t really care what they say about me.” Liv’s face is lined with worry. “But will it make them call you back to New York?”

“No.” I shake my head, although I don’t know for sure. “I worked out this deal with the owner himself, and we made sure Homes was a solid replacement. They’re headed to the playoffs. They don’t need me there.”

“Logan said he can tell you’re not playing this season.” Dylan’s nose wrinkles.

“Logan’s biased. The truth is, I was at my best when he was on the team.” I try to sound reassuring. “They must be having a slow news cycle if they’re scraping the bottom of the barrel worrying about what I’m doing.”

“That’s not true!” Dylan cries. “The fans love you. I’m sure they want to know what you’re doing now.”

She’s being nice, but I want to tell her she’s not making the situation better.

Liv is still frowning, and she’s chewing her bottom lip. After all the shit we’ve been working through lately, the last thing I want is for her to be worrying about this kind of bullshit.

“Are you okay?” I take her hand, slowing her pace as my sister continues on ahead.

“Yeah.” She blinks up to me, and the little smile she gives me is somewhat reassuring.

At least the article isn’t a hatchet job like the one about Dylan. I’d like to think it’s because they learned their lesson with how Logan handled it, but I doubt that’s the case. We’re at the restaurant, and Dylan trots up the steps leading to the back entrance to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you two stick around and have dinner?” Dylan holds the screen door as we enter. “The guys are all set up to watch Hendrix play. Go join them.”

“Why don’t we all join them?” I can’t help teasing my little sister now that I know she stopped watching our games.

“Maybe in a minute.” She grabs Liv’s hand. “First, I want to show Liv my new recipe!”

Liv smiles up at me. “I’m good. Go hang out with your brothers.”

With that, I let them go. If I know Dylan, she’s going to keep Liv in the kitchen all night talking and getting all the news.

“Wait!” Dylan hands me a large platter of Thomas’s spin on White Castle burgers. “Take these out to the guys.”

“Are those my White Castle burgers?” Liv cries. “I want one.”

“Don’t worry.” Dylan taps her shoulder. “I’ve got more for us back here.”

And my suspicions are confirmed. I won’t be seeing Liv again until it’s time to go.

“Hey, look who’s here.” Zane stands when I round the corner with the tray of sliders. “Need some help?”

“Dylan sent these.” I pass my brother the tray, and he carries it to the table where Jack and Logan sit facing the large-screen televisions all on the same channel.

It’s a Monday, so the restaurant is pretty empty. Most people are at sports bars watching the game or they’re home getting ready for work and school tomorrow.

“Did you see the article?” Logan’s expression is somber and he hands me a beer out of the silver bucket in the center of the table.

“Yeah.” I take the drink. “Thanks. It’s not as bad as what they wrote about Dylan.”

“Still, it’s pretty shitty.” Logan pulls out a chair, and we sit together.

“It’s my fault.”

“What?” All three of them turn to look at me, and my jaw tightens.

I quickly fill them in on what happened with the phony cat in the tree, and my big mouth.

“It’s really suspicious how she knew you’d take the call.” Jack’s brow lowers. “I’ll ask Rodney if he can look into it. I’d hate to think we have a mole at the municipal complex.”

“Wow.” My brow rises. “I never even considered that.”

“They pay people to help them, and these so-called reporters are sneaky.” Logan’s tone is simmering anger, and I know it’s as much about how they treated Dylan as the situation with me. “She probably asked around to see how she could get you out there. I don’t expect it would take much in Newhope.”

“You know that’s true.” Zane nods, sipping his beer. “People talk to everybody down here.”

“And those assholes take advantage of it.” Logan’s jaw is tight, and he shakes his head.

The televisions flicker with the start of the game, and we put the conversation to rest while we watch my youngest brother on the field. Throughout his professional career, Hendrix has played wide receiver and running back, and now he’s starting tight end for the LA Tigers.

“This is the best he’s played all year.” Jack’s arms are crossed, and he watches like a coach.

“He’s fast,” Logan agrees. “And his instincts are good.”

“There he goes!” I shout when he shoots through an opening, running thirty yards for a touchdown.

We all yell and high five, and I laugh with pride. It feels good to be here with them watching the game. The time passes, and I like it more when Liv walks out to join us for the final quarter.

She sits on my lap, and my hand is on her round belly. The baby pushes against my hand, and for a few minutes our baby girl steals the show.

“That’s crazy,” Logan laughs, putting his hand over the small point pushing right out of the middle. “I never knew they did that.”

“Neither did I,” I laugh, rubbing the spot and giving Liv a squeeze.

I think she’s doing better with how her body is changing. I know the birthing class has helped. We’ve started doing more of the HypnoBirthing, and they’re pretty good at relaxation and working through her fears.

Jack lets out a yell, and we all snap our attention in time to see Hendrix strutting into the end zone for another touchdown right before he’s surrounded by his teammates and lifted off his feet. It’s a great sight, and it leaves me feeling better than I did when I arrived.

“What did I miss?” Dylan scampers out of the kitchen, amber eyes wide like she had no idea a game was happening.

“Nice try, faker.” I pull her ponytail and she elbows my side.

“Don’t mess with my lady.” Logan pulls her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “She doesn’t have to watch the games if they stress her out.”

“Because you’re not playing anymore.” Zane pipes up from where he’s sitting by Jack.

“I want you guys to come to the station on Thursday so we can record the show.” Logan nods at the four of us.

“I should be able to do that. It’s been pretty slow lately.”

“Jack? You in?” he calls to my brother, and Jack stands, walking to where we’re talking.

“Can’t do it. We’re getting ready for Homecoming Friday.”

“Oh! I love homecoming.” Dylan tilts her head to the side.

“Me too,” Liv coos. “We always had so much fun decorating the field and having bonfires.”

“The girls in ballet class are so excited.”

“Hold up.” Zane stands, moving closer to the large television screen. “Garrett, you’d better come take a look at this.”

“Oh, shit!” Logan’s voice rises, and we all go to where Zane is standing.

They’re replaying highlights from the Pirates’ game, and my throat tightens when I see one of those massive defensive linemen slam hard into Huck Holmes. Flags rain all around them, but my replacement isn’t moving. Fuck.

“What are they saying?” Jack’s tone is somber as he returns from tossing our trash.

“Not sure yet.” Zane reaches up to increase the volume. “Looks like a concussion. He’s not getting up.”

Liv walks to where I’m standing, putting her hand in the crook of my arm. I lift it at once, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her into my side. Dylan has already returned to the kitchen, and I know it’s because she hates concussion injuries.

She wants us all to retire.

“How long ago was this?” Logan asks. “They should have an update by now.”

“Here we go.” The screen changes to talking heads breaking down the injury just as my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket.

I know before I even lift it whose name is going to be on the screen. Kurt Lucas. Liv sees it, too, and round hazel eyes meet mine.

Leaning down, I kiss the top of her forehead. “I have to take this. Don’t worry.”

Walking to the back of the near-empty restaurant, I take the call. “Kurt? Hey, man, how’s it going?”

“I was going to say the same to you. How’s the family?”

“Good.” I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Doing good.”

“I don’t suppose you caught the Pirates game?”

“Ah, no, we were actually watching the Tigers⁠—”

“Your brother Hendrix. Killer tight end.”

“Yeah, but I just saw the highlight reel. What’s happening, Kurt?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling.” His tone changes to somber, and I remember that day in the office when Kurt nearly fired Thad. “We need you back here.”

My chin drops, and I scrub the back of my neck. I’ve been doing it so much lately, I’m starting to get a burn. “How is he?”

“Doctors say he’ll be out for at least nine days.” It’s the standard protocol following a concussion. “It was pretty mild, so we’re thinking two games tops.”

“And after two games?” My chest is tight, and I’m worried he’ll make me stay. “I don’t want to stay, Kurt.”

“I know.” His tone is quiet. “We can make that call when we know more.”

I don’t like it, but I also know I can’t leave my team hanging. He let me go with the understanding I could be called back, and I agreed. At this point, Liv is doing well. She’s not having any problems, and the family is all here with her. Still, I know she wants to be near her mother. Dr. Pierce is here, and I’m not missing the birth of my baby girl. Hell, we still have more HypnoBirthing to learn.

“Two games.”

“I need you here in time for practice.” His tone has switched to all-business. “I want you and Berke on the field drilling A-sap. We’re headed for the playoffs, and we can’t lose momentum over this.”

We disconnect, and I turn to see Liv standing at the back of the group, chewing on the side of her finger and watching me.

Going to her, I pull her into my arms, smiling down. “How would you feel about going with me to New York for a few weeks?”