by Lucy Score
I smiled like we were chitchatting about butterflies and the weather.
The brothers glared at each other.
“I was just reminding your girl here that family takes care of family,” Nash said.
“Now you’re done reminding her. Why don’t you get your ass back home and rest the fuck up so you’re in shape to take care of family?”
“I’m enjoying the game. Think I’ll stick around,” Nash said. “Good to see you, Naomi.”
I said nothing and watched him wander over to Liza and my parents. Neither of the Morgan brothers appeared to be in good moods in the mornings.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, tilting my head back to look at Knox.
His gaze was on the field where Nina missed the ball entirely and instead connected with the shins of the opposing player.
“Heard there was a game. Thought I’d swing by.”
His thumb was rubbing lazy circles against my upper arm. I felt a tingling that originated at the site of his touch and traveled through the rest of my body. My grumpy, tattooed sort-of boyfriend had dragged himself out of bed on an early Saturday morning after a closing shift at the bar just to show up for me and Waylay. I wasn’t sure what to do with that information.
“It’s early,” I pointed out.
“Yep.”
“Nash is just worried,” I said, trying to move the conversation along.
“He does that.”
The crowd noise picked up, and the game drew my attention. I felt Knox tense beside me as Waylay intercepted a pass and dribbled down the field.
“Go all the way, Way,” Wraith yelled.
“Keep going, Waylay,” Dad shouted.
“Come on, kid,” Knox said under his breath, his attention riveted on the number six jersey.
My fingers curled into Knox’s shirt as she closed in on the goal.
Just as she reared her leg back to let the ball fly, another player ran into her, and they both dropped to the ground.
There was a collective groan from the fans.
Nina and Chloe pulled Waylay to her feet, and I saw how red her face was.
“Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh, what?” Knox asked.
“What the shit, ref?” Waylay bellowed.
“Ah, crap,” I whispered.
“Did she just say ‘shit’ to the ref?” Knox asked.
The referee blew the whistle and strode up to Waylay, digging in his front pocket.
I groaned as the yellow card was produced and held up in front of my niece’s mutinous little face.
“She does this every game. It’s like she can’t control her mouth,” I groaned.
“Come on, ref,” Wraith yelled. “That was a foul.”
“Sorry, coach. Can’t use that language on the field,” the referee said.
Waylay opened her mouth again. Thankfully Chloe had the foresight to slap a hand over the gaping chasm of four-letter words. Waylay fought against her.
“This is her third yellow card in three games. I can’t get her to stop.”
Knox stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Everyone looked in our direction including Waylay.
“Way,” he said, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”
Chloe released her, and Waylay, gaze on her feet, cheeks red, marched over to the line.
Knox released me and hooked Waylay by the back of the neck.
“I get it, kid. I do. But you can’t say that shit on the field or in school.”
“Why not? You say it. My mom says it.”
“We’re adults and we don’t have a bunch of other adults breathin’ down our necks, telling us what not to do.”
“So what am I supposed to do? I got tripped! I could have scored.”
“You say it as loud as you want to in your head. You let it come out of your eyes, your pores, every exhale, but you do not say it on the field again. You’re fuckin’ better than that, Way. You’ve got a temper, but there’s a hell of a lot more power in controlling it than letting it fly. Use it, or it’ll use you. You get me?”
She nodded solemnly. “I think so. When can I swear?”
“When you and me are watching football.”
Waylay’s gaze slid to my face, gauging my reaction.
“Don’t you worry about your aunt. She’s proud as hell of you. But you’re only holding yourself back when you blow up like that. So let’s give her something else to be proud about. Yeah?”
She sighed. Then nodded again. “Yeah. Okay. But I get to swear when we watch football?”
“Damn right you do,” Knox said, ruffling her hair.
“And when I’m not in school anymore?”
“You can swear as much as you fucking want after you’re out of college. Maybe grad school too, if you want a PhD or some shit.”
The corner of her mouth lifted.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now, get your ass out there and put the ball in the back of the net so we can get ice cream after.”
“But it’s morning,” she said, again looking at me as if I were some anti-swearing, anti-ice cream monster.
“No better time for ice cream than after a big win,” he assured her.
She grinned up at him. “Okay. Thanks, Knox. Sorry, Aunt Naomi.”
“You’re forgiven,” I assured her. “I’m already proud of you. Now, go be awesome.”
So it wasn’t my best advice to impart. But I was feeling rather swoon-like as Knox stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Wraith. My father, then Nash, joined him. Together they created a wall of testosterone, ready to protect and guide their girls.
“Just when you think he can’t get any hotter,” my mom said, sidling up next to me.
“Are you talking about Knox or Dad?” I asked.
“Both. All of them really. Coach Wraith certainly has a charm about him. And Nash is just as sexy as his brother.”
“Mom!”
“It’s just an observation. We Witt women have excellent taste in men. Well, most of us.”
I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to stifle the laugh.
Time was ticking down, and the score was still tied 1-1.
“Let’s go, ladies!” Wraith shouted.
I saw Waylay glance our way, caught the tiny smile on her face, and I felt the tingles again. She had a cheering section waiting to celebrate with her, and it meant something to her.
“You’re doing an amazing job with her,” Mom said.
“Really?”
“Look at that smile. Look at how she keeps glancing over here, reassuring herself that we’re all still here. Say what you will about Tina, but giving you her daughter was the best choice she’s ever made.”
My eyes clouded with tears. “Thanks, Mom,” I whispered.
She looped her arm through mine, then tensed. “She has the ball again!”
Wraith’s granddaughter had gotten tangled up with two defenders and sent the ball sailing to Waylay’s feet.
“Go!” we shouted as one, the crowd coming to its feet.
Mom and I clung to each other as Waylay dribbled around the last defender between her and the goal.
“Oh my God, I’m going to be sick.”
“Let ’er rip, Waylay,” Mom shrieked.
So she did. I held my breath as we watched the ball sail in slow motion toward the goal.
The crowd was screaming. I could hear Stef over everyone yelling, “Get it in the net thing!”
The goalie dove for it.
But the ball spiraled just past her fingertips into the back of the net.
I screamed along with Mom as we jumped up and down together.
“That’s my granddaughter!” Mom screeched.
“Fuck yeah!” Wraith bellowed.
“You’re damn right,” Liza shouted.
Sloane and Stef were hugging each other.
The ref blew the final whistle. “That’s game!”
Waylay stood stock-still, staring at the ball in the back of the net as if she could
n’t believe what she’d just done. And then she turned. Her teammates raced to her, shrieking and giggling. But she was looking beyond them. She was looking at me. And then she was running.
And so was I. I caught her when she jumped into my arms and swung her around.
“You did it!”
“Did you see? Did you see what I did, Aunt Naomi?”
“I saw, honey. I’m so proud of you!”
“Can we get ice cream, and can I swear when I watch football with Knox?”
“Yes and I guess so.”
She hugged me tight around the neck and whispered, “This is the best day of my life.”
I was trying to blink back tears when someone pulled her from my arms. It was Knox, and he was settling Waylay on his shoulders as the rest of the players and parents gathered around to congratulate her. Knox shot me one of his rare, full-on grins that made me dizzy.
“Sloane and I have talked, and you’re forgiven,” Stef said, slinging his arm around me.
“As long as we’re invited for ice cream,” Sloane added.
“And included in your life,” Stef insisted.
I pulled them both in for a hard hug, and over their shoulders, I saw Dad clap Knox on the back.
THIRTY-FOUR
THE GROOM
Naomi
I threaded the stem of the earring through my lobe and leaned back to admire the effect.
“What do you think?” I asked Waylay, who was sprawled across my bed on her stomach, chin pillowed in her hands.
She studied the earrings. “Better,” she decided. “They sparkle like Honky Tonk on your shirt and they stand out more when you toss your hair.”
“I don’t toss my hair,” I said, ruffling hers. My niece was more and more willing to tolerate affection from me these days.
“Oh, yes, you do. Whenever you catch Knox looking at you, you’re all…” She paused to shake out her blonde hair and bat her eyes.
“I do not!”
“Do so.”
“I’m the adult and I’m in charge and I say I don’t,” I insisted, flopping down on the bed next to her.
“You also get this mushy face whenever he walks into a room or you get a text from him.”
“Oh, is it like the mushy face you make whenever someone says Mr. Michaels’s name?” I teased.
Waylay’s face transformed into what could aptly be described as mushy.
“Ha! See! That is a mushy face,” I said, pointing accusingly at her.
“You wish,” she scoffed, still smiling. “Can I use some of your hair spray since you messed up my hair?”
“Sure,” I said.
She slipped off the bed and picked up the can I left on the dresser.
“Are you sure you packed everything you need?” I asked, eying the pink duffel bag in the doorway. Waylay was invited to Nina’s birthday sleepover. It was the first time she’d be spending the night with a non-family member, and I was feeling the nerves.
“I’m sure,” she said. Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she carefully brushed her hair over her forehead just so before hitting it with a shot of spray.
“I’m working the closing shift tonight, so if you decide you don’t want to spend the night you can just call Grandma and Grandpa or Liza or Knox, and one of them will come pick you up.”
She crossed her eyes at me in the mirror. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend the night? It’s a sleepover.” She was already dressed in pajamas, a request on the invitation. But she was wearing the pink sneakers Knox had given her with the ever-present heart charm.
“I just want you to know that no matter what, you can always call, and someone will be there,” I said. “Even when you’re older.”
I cleared my throat, and Waylay put down the hair spray.
“What?” she asked, turning around to face me.
“What what?” I hedged.
“You always clear your throat before you say something you think someone isn’t going to like.”
Damn astute kid. “Have you heard from your mom?”
She looked down at her feet. “No. Why?”
“Someone said she was in town not too long ago,” I said.
“She was?” Waylay frowned like the news was disturbing.
I nodded. “I didn’t talk to her.”
“Does this mean she’s going to take me back?” she asked.
I started to clear my throat then stopped. I didn’t know how to answer that. “Is that something you’d like?” I asked instead.
Waylay was staring hard at her shoes now. “I’m okay here with you,” she said finally.
I felt the tension release from my shoulders. “I like having you with me.”
“You do?”
“I do. Even if your hair tossing impression of me is terrible.”
She grinned then stopped. “She always comes back.”
It sounded different when she said it this time. It sounded more like a warning.
“We’ll figure that out when we have to,” I told her. “Let’s get you to your sleepover. Are you sure you packed your toothbrush?”
“Geez, Aunt Naomi! This isn’t my first sleepover!”
“Okay. Okay! What about underwear?”
Me: How’s Paris?
Stef: I drank too much champagne and danced with a man named Gaston. So pretty fucking great. But I still miss you and the fam.
Me: We miss you too.
Stef: Any drama happening that you “forgot” to tell me about?
Me: It’s so nice that you don’t hold a grudge. And no. No drama to report except Waylay is going to a sleepover.
Stef: Does that mean you’ll be having your own sleepover? If so, wear the teddy I sent you! It’ll melt Knox’s mind! Oops. Gotta go. Gaston is beckoning!
Honky Tonk on a Friday night was a rowdy time. The crowds were big, the music loud, and no one cared if they were hungover in the morning, so the drink orders were plentiful.
I swept my hair up off the back of my neck as I waited for Max to finish keying in an order.
“Where’s Knox tonight?” Silver called from behind the bar.
“Out with Lucian,” I yelled back over “Sweet Home Alabama.” The band was decent, but they were drowned out by the crowd singing over them. “He said he’d come by later.”
Max moved away from the POS and started throwing drinks on trays. “Tips are good tonight,” she said.
“Sounds like it could be a shots night,” I said with an eyebrow wiggle.
“There’s a new guy in your section,” Max said, pointing to the wall on the far side of the dance floor. “How’s the sleepover going?”
“Way messaged me to tell me to stop messaging her, and Gael sent me a picture of the girls doing mani-pedis and face masks,” I told her. “She looks like she’s having the time of her life.”
I dropped off two fresh beers at a table of equestrians and gave a quick hello to Hinkel McCord and Bud Nickelbee on my way across the bar.
I caught a glimpse of the new patron. He’d angled his chair against the wall, half in shadow. But I could still make out his red hair. The guy from the library. The one who had asked about tech support.
I felt a nervous tickle at the back of my neck. Maybe he lived in Knockemout. Maybe I was overthinking it, and he was just a regular person with a broken laptop who liked a cold beer on a Friday night.
And maybe he wasn’t.
“Here you go, guys,” I said, doling out drinks to a four-top that had turned into a six-top.
“Thanks, Naomi. And thank you for hooking my aunt up with that home health organization,” said Neecey, the gossipy waitress from Dino’s.
“My pleasure. Hey, does anyone know that guy along the back wall?” I asked.
Four heads swiveled in unison. Knockemout wasn’t much for subtlely.
“Can’t say he looks familiar,” Neecey said. “That red hair sure stands out. I feel like I’d remember him if I met him.”
“Is he giving you trouble,
Nay?” Wraith demanded, looking deadly serious.
I forced a laugh. “No. I just recognized him from the library. I didn’t know if he was a local.”
I suddenly wished Knox was here.
Two seconds later, I was really glad he wasn’t. Because this time when the front door opened, I prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me.
“Now who the hell is that dandy?” Wraith wondered out loud.
“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered.
Warner Dennison the Third was scanning the bar, an expression of derision on his handsome face.
I thought about turning around and hightailing it for the kitchen. But it was too late. He locked eyes with me, not bothering to hide his surprise.
“Naomi,” he called just as the band cut off their song.
Heads turned to look at me and then back at Warner.
I stayed rooted to the spot, but he was on the move, weaving his way through tables to get to me.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Me? What the hell are you doing in a place like this? And what are you wearing?” he said, reaching for me. His hands gripped my biceps like he was going to pull me in for an embrace, but I resisted.
“I work here,” I said, planting a hand firmly on his chest.
A motorcycle revved its engine outside, and he flinched. “Not anymore,” Warner said. “This is ridiculous. You made your point. You’re coming home.”
“Home?” I managed a dry laugh. “Warner, I sold my house. I live here now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re coming home with me.”
Not wanting to cause a scene, I gave up trying to extricate myself from his grasp. “What are you talking about? We’re not together anymore.”
“You ran out on our wedding then ignored my calls and emails for weeks. You wanted to make a point and you made it.”
“What point exactly do you think I was making?”
His nostrils flared, and I noticed the clench of his jaw. He was getting upset, and it turned my stomach.
“You wanted me to see what life would be like without you. I get it.”
We had the rapt attention of the bar. “Warner, let’s talk somewhere else,” I suggested. I pulled him past the bar and into the hallway by the restrooms.