Page 67 of Play Maker

She smiles. “Count me in.”

“The Knights need a fundraiser?” he quips. At the same time, Evie asks, “Can we go to the fair?”

Greer nods to her while I answer Micah.

“We’re going to raise money for the girls’ field hockey team.”

I get another, “Cool.”

Evie drags Greer up the stairs, where there’s extra seating and you can look down over the main dining or dance floor area—whatever it is on any given night.

“I’m going to go back with Mom and grab some food,” I tell Micah, who’s looking around.

“That a stage?”

“We sometimes have live music here, and that’s where they’ll set up; or a wedding, and that’s where the bride and groom’s table sits.”

He doesn’t ask anything else, so I kind of float away, giving him some space. I guess he needs that.

Evie explores every inch of the space, and for all I can imagine, she’s been through a lot, yet she is such a happy girl.

Mom and I settle on chicken pot pie with rosemary cream sauce, which she is making so I don’t mess it up. I’m making a chocolate chunk skillet cake.

* * *

I find out Dad and Kolby are at Grandpa Dan’s, doing wood … with axes. I do not flip out. I decide now’s a good time to take a shower.

When I come down the stairs, and my eyes meet his, they tell me a story, one that says we’re good and ends with … and he did not kill me.

The island and the little table are full, and Kolby immediately gets up to give me his chair. I swear I see Mom do a little shimmy from the corner of my eye, but I refuse to look at her, knowing she’ll figure it out before we even know what this is.

I grab my folding butterfly chair that I keep in my closet. It’s too big to leave out all the time, but I refuse to sacrifice it.

“You might as well sit back down, Kolby. When she brings that chair out, we lose her in it. It’s her favorite reading chair.”

“And I will cherish it forever and ever.”

We eat, converse, and laugh, and when we’re done, Jackson says, “We got ten minutes before we need to head out, Grimes. Apparently, we’re needed for this round of the tournament, and it starts at seven.”

“Lo made her skillet chocolate chunk cake,” Mom announces.

“Better bring that pan over and let the fight begin.” Jackson rubs his hands together.

I fight to hide my disappointment. I mean, it would seem odd if it were just he and I here for the night … but still.

Dad scoops ice cream into the bowls we brought over from the barn. Mom grabs a handful of spoons, and I pull the pan out of the oven.

“We usually do a three-second countdown after I set this on the table, but tonight, it’s going on the island, and you’re all going to let me get Evie a piece before you savages fight for it.”

“Kid, you’re lucky.” Jackson stands up.

“I know.” She smiles as he scoops her up.

“The pans hot, so Lo’s gonna give you a piece for all for you.” He sets her on a barstool. “The rest of us have to fight for it.”

She looks directly at her brother. “You can’t fight Mic, ’cause you’ll go to jail.”

“Not that kind of fight, Evie. We’re okay.”

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