Page 8 of The Way We Score

Her walker folds, and I bolt from behind the chicken bunks at the sight of my poor mother going down again.

“Mom!” I nearly fall as I try to lurch around the ramp extended from the top chicken bunk to the ground.

Then I almost turn an ankle as I step in a water trough, sending it flipping and slinging water everywhere, all over my legs and feet.

“Shit,” I hiss, my hands flying through the air for anything to break my fall.

“Easy!” Garrett’s large hands catch me, swooping me up before I break my own leg.

“I’ve got you!” Dylan holds my mom around the waist, re-opening her walker. “You’ve gotta take it easy, Ms. Plum!”

Mom shakes her head, lowering herself slowly to the bench beside the table. “I don’t know when I turned into such a klutz.”

“You okay?” Garrett’s voice is low, his strong hands gripping my upper arms.

He lifts me as if I’m a rag doll, which at five-foot-seven, I am definitely not. He doesn’t let go until he’s sure I’ve regained my balance.

“Thank you… Yes, I’m okay.” My hands are on his biceps, and I take a step back, eyes watering and my ears burning red.

“You’d think we were putting on a comedy show!” Mom calls from where she sits, exhaling a heavy laugh. “Maybe we should move that ramp, Liv. I think it’s a hazard right there.”

“I think you’re right,” I mutter, glancing around the cluttered space. “This whole place is a hazard.”

My fingers thread in the chicken-wire wall, and I’m completely flustered as I shake the water off my drenched foot.

“I can help move things around if you need me to?” Garrett has to duck so his head doesn’t hit the roof of this little shelter.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Bending down, I straighten the plastic water troughs. “I need to refill these.”

“I can definitely help with that.” He smiles.

Nodding, I look down at the clumsy, damp mess I’ve become. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence falls briefly, and Dylan hops to her feet,taking the glass dish off the table. “We should probably refrigerate this—it’s poblano peppers stuffed with black beans, corn, and rice and topped with shredded cheese. And don’t worry Liv, poblanos aren’t hot at all.”

Mom hesitates a moment, her eyes moving from me, up up up to Garrett, and she seems pleased with Dylan’s suggestion.

“That sounds delicious, and I’ve got fresh-squeezed lemonade.” Mom wobbles to her feet again. “Garrett and Liv can take care of the chickens. See if Henny will eat one of these peppers, Liv!”

Dylan keeps pace as my mom slowly makes her way to the back door.

“But, I don’t know how much to give her…” I try to protest.

“Make sure you fill the feeder and don’t forget the oyster shells.”

With that, they’re climbing the short steps. The screen door slams, and I’m left in the small shed with the man I’ve been doing everything in my power to avoid.

Garrett clears his throat, looking down at the plastic trough. “That was pretty sneaky, leaving us with all the chores.”

Blinking up to his blue eyes, I exhale a huff. “Ever since her accident, she’s been ordering me around like she’s the Queen of England. It’s like I came here to wait on her hand and foot.”

A deep laugh rumbles in his throat, and it squeezes my stomach. He’s so familiar. Four years in high school we were together. Four years in college, we painfully fell apart. But right here, I can only remember how happy I used to be.

“Well, now I’m here to give you a hand.” I watch as he turns and goes to the side of the house where the garden hose is wrapped around a black metal wheel designed to be decorative.

His faded jeans hug his ass, which I can’t help noticing hasn’t changed a bit since high school. It’s square and tight, and his muscled thighs stretch those pants just a bit, just right.

“Thanks.” I turn in the opposite direction, going to the square wooden feed bin on the other side of the coop.

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