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

We don’t grind.

Garrett puts a hand on my waist and clasps my hand in his other in a respectable pose. I hold his muscled shoulder, and we leave plenty of room between us for Jesus.

Dylan and Craig were clearly in cahoots to make this happen, because all the hot disco songs have suspiciously changed. There’s no more Pitbull, no more Chappell Roan or Donna Summers. In their place is slow-dance, heartstrings-pulling country.

We’re currently moving in time to “Under My Skin” by Nate Smith. My eyes are fixed on Garrett’s chest, and his large hand holds mine so gently. He’s not forcing me. He actually seemed as uncomfortable as I was by Dylan’s persistence.

I’m not mad at her. Dylan might as well be my little sister for how close we were growing up, and we were both dancers, even if we were on different ends of the spectrum.

She was a classically trained ballerina on her way to the American Ballet Company in New York—until an accident ended her career.

I was the precision dance line and drill team captain with my sights set on the biggest professional cheerleading team in America. Until I saw too much behind the scenes.

Still, we loved to dance, and Dylan is so nostalgic. Of course, she wanted us out here.

Now I’m listening to my heart thundering in my ears louder than the sultry song. I’m thinking about the bead of sweat sliding down the center of my back. I’m thinking about being in these arms I thought I’d gotten over years ago.

I’m not over them. They still make me feel safe, like I’m going to be okay.

Garrett’s been walking around this restaurant all night in those jeans that show off his fine ass with that apron barely covering his broad chest. The short sleeves of the tan Cooters & Shooters T-shirt he’s wearing stretch painfully over his biceps, and I steal a glance up at him only to get a shock from my chest to my toes when I meet his blue eyes.

His full lips curl in a careful smile, and he leans closer. “Is this okay?”

My chin lifts, and I’m nodding before I speak. “Dylan’s so sweet. She just misses the old days.”

Only something is different about my oversized partner. I can sense how much he’s changed in the years we’ve been apart. When we were in high school, Garrett was the loud, boisterous, baby brother of Jack and Zane. It’s a status that ended when Hendrix and then Dylan were born three years later, but he’d been the youngest long enough for it to be ingrained.

He was never afraid to speak his mind, and I fell in love with his big personality. I loved everything about him—his laugh, his brash fearlessness, his confidence, how he took what he wanted… Until it turned on me.

Until that night in Baton Rouge when it all fell apart.

A knot twists my throat and I lower my chin. The song changes, and the strains of “Chasing After You” by Ryan Hurd begin. A noise of approval ripples across the room, and it doesn’t take long before we’re surrounded by lusty slow dancers.

They push and nudge, and with a gentle tug, Garrett pulls me closer, all the way to his chest. I don’t resist. My eyes close, and I don’t even question it. It’s so easy to let go and let him lead me.

Moving to the music against Garrett’s body is truly like riding a bike. Two measures, and I’m right back to where we used to be all those years ago. Every chance we could get we were together, touching, dancing, holding on like we’d never let go.

Our hips move in time, and we sway like an old love song our bodies remember. We’re keeping it clean, but we’re much closer than we were one song ago.

My cheek rests against his chest, and we let the music guide us. The scent of citrus and soap and memories wrap me in a spell, and I’m not the sad lady who came here with her tail between her legs to care for her injured mom. I’m that girl who used to have it all.

I’m the girl who knew exactly what she wanted and how she was going to get there. I’m that girl who loved so fiercely, she couldn’t imagine it ever slipping away.

“I love chasing after you…” Garrett has a great voice, and it’s a wash of warmth through my chest.

He always did that when we were in school. I’d jump on his back, and he’d walk on, carrying me and singing. I’d sing along, harmonizing if I could hear it. It makes me smile, when I think about how beautifully golden we were.

I could never forget something this good, this fundamental, this real.

The song ends, and I take a step back as if waking from a dream. My eyes rise, and when they meet his, he seems as affected as I am.

“Want to go for a walk? It’s nice outside.” His large hand still holds mine, and I nod.

“Sure.”

I don’t even notice as we pass through the bodies, heading for the screen door that leads to the small kids’ playground out back. It faces the bay, and there’s a little beach outside the fence leading all the way down.

He gives me a nudge, and I see he grabbed two Corona longnecks on the way out. Must’ve been when we passed the bar. The perks of owning the place, I think to myself.

“Thanks.” I smile, looking up at him as I take it.

“Figured you might be thirsty.”

He has no idea.

The water shushes quietly onto the shore, and my eyes lift to the sky. It’s black with a full yellow moon right in the center painting the waves with silvery tips. I’m sure the sky is full of stars, but there’s too much light pollution for us to see them here. If we were out in the pasture south of town, it would be a different story.

We walk slowly along the edge of the bay until we reach the end of the sand. We reach the point where a massive log stretches into the water and behind it is thicker foliage. It’s probably leftover from one of the hurricanes, but the sturdy bushes keep us from venturing farther.

“Have a seat.” He holds my hand, and I sit beside him on the log.

I expect water turtles climb up here during the day to bask in the sun. I imagine it’s the same three turtles who gave their names to the restaurant. What did he call them? A laugh puffs through my nose.

“What?” He glances up at me from where he sits.

“I was just thinking about Snappy, Happy, and Earl.”

“Oh.” He takes a sip, grunting a laugh. “Kimmie loves those guys.”

“That’s Jack’s little girl?”

“Yeah. Jack’s a single dad, but he’s really good at it.”

“He always was.” I think about his serious oldest brother.

Jack stepped up when their parents died and held the reins on this crazy bunch of kids. He kept them close, like a good big brother. He was always so good at everything.

Garrett takes another sip of his beer. The air is heavy with all the words we might say to each other right now. It’s not the first time we’ve been together since The Last Time, but it’s the first time we’ve been alone together. I have no idea where to begin.

He’s the first to speak. “I’ve been wondering why you’re back here all by yourself.”

I pick at the label on my beer. Nothing like getting straight to the point.

“I’m not by myself.” I lower the bottle, giving him a wink. “I’m here with you.”

He huffs a laugh. “You know what I mean. Last I checked you were married. Now it looks like you’re not wearing a ring.”

Looking down, I spread the fingers of my left hand, studying the third one. It’s been over so long, it doesn’t even have a suntan line. I don’t even carry a trace of that mistake.

“It didn’t work out.”

“He must be a real loser.” It’s a low retort, almost lost in the sip of beer he takes.

Squinting one eye, I study my companion. “You don’t even know him.”

“No, but I know you. Olivia Bankston never gives up. She gives 120 percent, and she doesn’t quit until she’s sure it’s a lost cause.”

It’s not teasing or judgmental. The last words carry a tinge of regret, almost like he’s thinking the same thing I am. Almost like now after all this time he recognizes how hard I tried.

“I couldn’t get pregnant.” The words fall out of my mouth so fast, I can’t stop them.

Like heavy marbles pressing against my lips. Like that old musical My Fair Lady.

“What?” He blinks up at me, stunned.

“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth with my hand.

“No, don’t apologize. I wasn’t trying to pry or make you tell me…”

“Of course you weren’t.” I shake my head, letting it all out, unable to stop it. “We couldn’t get pregnant, and I didn’t want to do fertility treatments. He said it was because I wasn’t committed to our marriage, but it wasn’t that.”

“He sounds like a total dick.” A growl enters Garrett’s tone, and I almost love him for it.

“He was right. I didn’t want to put my body through all that… that difficult, costly ordeal. I didn’t want to do all that hard, emotional work to create a baby with a man I wasn’t sure was my forever.” I look at the bottle in my hand. “So I blamed my job. I wanted to be a partner. I was just getting established at the firm, and I wanted to be taken seriously.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“They gave the partnership to Graham Turgison.” My eyes blink up to his. “They said I’d probably want to start a family soon, and I’d be glad not to have all the extra hours and work being a partner would require.”

Garrett shakes his head, letting out a low whistle. “A whole bag of dicks… Dammit, Liv, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“The best part is I was right.” I laugh wryly. “He was sleeping around, all over town.”

“God…” Garrett pushes his hands against his thighs. “I hate this guy.”

“Of course, he tried to blame me. He said it was because he wanted kids, and I wouldn’t give him any.”

“Now I really hate this guy. He didn’t wrap it?”

“No, but don’t worry.” I hold up my hand. “I’ve been tested, and he didn’t make it worse by giving me a lifelong parting gift.”

“What a dick,” he quietly fumes.

I feel weak and wrung out, like I’ve been holding onto this information, and I finally let it go. I let it go on the guy I always knew I could trust. The guy who didn’t deserve to hear it.

“I’m sorry for dumping that on you.” My voice is quiet, and my cheeks heat. “I don’t know why I said all of that just now.”

A large hand covers mine, giving it a tight squeeze. “Because I care about you, Liv. Your secrets are safe with me. They always have been.”

Lifting the bottle, I take another long sip of beer. It’s true, but it’s still cringe.

“Do you know how humiliating it is to ask for an STI test when you’re married? It’s like admitting everything is fucked up. It’s like a big loser stamp right on your forehead.”

“You are not a loser, Liv, your asshole ex is the loser.” A huff slips through my lips, but he’s right. I won’t argue. “As for being embarrassed, I bet that nurse didn’t even think about it. Hell, they test us all the time for shit. It’s just another day.”

“Well, it’s not for me.”

We’re quiet again, both with our forearms on our legs, our feet in the sand, looking out at the water.

“So it’s over?” I can’t tell if he’s concerned or merely curious.

“Yep, I signed the final papers before I left town.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“Okay, I’m not sorry you divorced that jerkoff. I want to drive to Birmingham and kick his ass right now.”

A laugh bursts from my throat, and I cough on my sip of beer, covering my mouth with my hand as I wait for it to pass. “I’d love to see that.”

“You’re too smart for a guy like that.” He takes a sip of beer. “You’re way out of his league.”

“Oh, am I?” I sniff, not feeling it.

My eyes drift to his, and his expression has changed. The warmth I saw earlier, the care, has melted into something proud, maybe even a little possessive.

He looks at me like he’s remembering something we stopped doing a long time ago. His brow lowers, and my core tingles to life. I remember a time when a look like that led to me climbing onto his lap. It was a time when doing what we wanted was as easy as walking around the block.

“We’d better get back.” He stands, holding out his hand. “Your mom’s probably wondering where you are.”

I doubt she is. I’m sure she saw me walk out the door with Garrett Bradford, who has always been her favorite, and her night was made.

Still, he’s right. We can’t stay out here alone any longer.

Pushing off my legs, I stand. “You’re right. We’d better get back. It’s late.”

I walk briskly, but he keeps pace. The awkwardness has fallen away, but I think we’re on the same page about this not being a good idea.

It doesn’t take long to be back at the screen door leading into the large dining area. The crowd has died down, almost like they know when it’s time to start settling down. It’s a Thursday night, after all, and Cooters & Shooters is a family restaurant, not a bar. It only has these moments of madness once a week.

Garrett catches my forearm before I step through the screen door, into the open room where our family stands around in a smiling, laughing circle. Rachel’s brother is there, and they’re all so easy and comfortable. So familiar and homey.

Hesitating, I turn to face him, and he puts a finger under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. “Chin up, Cherry. When you’re at the bottom, there’s only one way to go.”

“Unless there’s a shovel.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles. He’s happy, and excitement tingles low in my stomach.

He’s touching me, getting angry at anyone who would hurt me… fanning the smolder still hiding deep in my heart for him. The painful flickers of a fire that never went out.

I’m afraid of this feeling, but I can’t fight it. It’s lingering in the air around us, and I know it’ll only take one weak moment to let go.