Page 53 of The Only Goal

“And she banned him from the kitchen.”

I start giggling. “He had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn’t care. The guy hated cooking anyway.”

He snickers and shakes his head. “I remember that time your mom was away and he was in charge of meals. I’d never seen him so stressed.”

“Your mom had to come over and rescue him.” My laughter gets a little louder as I picture that look on my poor dad’s face. Sweat was pouring off his forehead, and he was muttering curses—the kind he told us off for saying. I remember my sister being grounded for a week over the stuff that had been coming out of his mouth that night.

“We got up to some crazy stuff, didn’t we?” He moves to sit opposite me, the stool scraping on the ground as he shifts it to fit.

His broad shoulders fill his shirt so perfectly. The fabric strains just a little as he adjusts the stool one more time, then finally takes a seat.

My stomach trembles as I picture what must be beneath that cotton. Layers of taut muscle and raw strength. I saw the promise of it that summer before senior year, but I bet it’s even more impressive now.

With a thick swallow, I focus back on my tea and sip the peppermint brew.

Baxter draws pictures with his fingers on the countertop, the silence falling between us soft and comforting.

“I used to love doing science experiments with you. Or magic tricks.” His voice is low and husky, and my insides twirl with pleasure when he glances up and gives me one of his lopsided grins. “Do you remember that Halloween when I wanted to be a magician and you were gonna be my assistant?”

I cough up my mouthful of tea, spluttering and laughing as I wipe the drips off my chin and remember. “There was no way I was being an assistant, so I made you wear the red dress, and I got the top hat.”

“Yep.” He nods, his face turning fire-engine red. “How the hell did you talk me into that?”

“I have no idea, but you were always better at the card tricks than I was.” I shake my head, then start to laugh again. “Man, did you look hot in that dress.”

He closes his eyes with a deep cringe. “Ugh. Don’t. I can’t believe I didn’t get arrested for that shit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure ‘Officer Pam’ wanted to arrest you.”

His ears start pulsing red as I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“She had such a massive crush on you.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his eyes darting to the counter.

“But she gave up pretty quick when she realized you were afraid to talk to girls.”

“I wasn’t afra—” He tips his head. “Okay, fine, I was petrified. But I wasn’t scared to talk to you.”

“I didn’t count.” I shrug. “I was your bestie. It wasn’t like that betw—” My words cut off, and the silence that follows is far from comforting. I’m sure we’re both remembering the swimming hole right about now, and I can sense Baxter’s urgent need to flee.

Before he can bolt, I quickly change the subject.

“One of my favorite memories is actually the Die Hard movie marathon. Do you remember that?”

“Of course I do.” His shoulders relax, and I let out a breath as he starts quoting lines from the movies.

“The first one’s still the best.”

“Agreed.” He nods. “Although number four’s pretty good too.”

“With Justin Long, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I love that guy.” I grin. “I think we spent the next couple weeks playing cops, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” He cringes. “And we were like way too old to be doing that. We must have been like fourteen or fifteen by then.”

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