Page 14 of The Match

I try to will my skin to cool as I meet his gaze. “Oh. Thanks. You’ll be seeing a lot of them. I’m not able to drive because of the seizures, and I live close to downtown, so I usually walk most places. Helps to wear tennis shoes.”

His expression looks a little too concerned for a conversation about sneakers. He runs a heavy hand through his perfectly mussed hair and puffs out a breath. “That’s something I hadn’t even thought of yet. Driving. Sam won’t be able to drive, will she?”

I shrug, ignoring my sudden urge to wrap my arms around his middle and tell him everything is going to be okay. And it will be okay. They’ll find a new normal, and life will go on—just in a new direction.

But for now, it’s important for me to be transparent. “Depends. If her medication helps and she goes the state’s specified number of months without a seizure, she’ll be able to drive. But if she’s like me . . . then no.”

I can see his mind processing that information, and it immediately triggers my memories of being sixteen and angry at my life too. But you know what? I got through it, and I learned to love my new life. Hopefully, Sam and her dad will too.

I turn around and face the main living area of the house again. Everything is so clean. Surely, a single dad doesn’t have time to keep a house this clean all the time. Unless he isn’t single. There is absolutely no reason why that thought should crush me as much as it does, but I feel as if I’ve been stuffed inside a trash compactor and it’s turning me into a tight little square.

Wanting to escape my unjustified disappointment, I invite myself and the dogs farther into his immaculate house.

Seriously?! Where’s he hiding the little knickknacks and doodads that prove they really live here?

I briefly consider lifting up the couch cushions to see if I find any crumbs or loose change living underneath. Would he think it’s weird if I open that hall closet and have a little look around? I wonder if his bedroom is on this floor or up the stairs? Does he sleep on a king-sized bed? I think he would have to, otherwise those long legs of his would dangle off the end for the monsters to grab his toes.

“Evie!” Sam’s voice breaks from the top of the stairs, and she comes barreling down, all teeth and sparkling brown eyes. She really is adorable. Her face is open and excited today. I remember that feeling well. Hope is in the air.

“Hey there, darlin’!”

For a brief moment I think Sam is going to run right up and hug me, but in the end she doesn’t. She lost the courage at the last second.

I glance back at Jacob, and he looks puzzled—as if he is wondering the same thing. His hands are shoved in his pockets. An uncomfortable statue with no intention of ungluing himself from the front door. He’s reenacting a BBC movie set in the 1800s where the gentleman is afraid of being caught alone in the room with the lady.

Don’t worry, Jacob. You won’t be forced to marry me.

Sam eyes me cautiously. “Can—can I pet her?” She glances down at Daisy, whose tail is wagging. Daisy looks as if the only thing she wants out of life is for Sam to wrap her up in a hug.

I know why Sam’s nervous. Everyone is at first. They see the big, scary Do Not Pet patch on the bright-blue vest and remember me asking them not to pet Charlie on our meeting day. They all worry that they are going to be doing something wrong.

“Of course you can. Daisy isn’t just any working dog, she’s your dog. I want you to pet, snuggle, and play with her as much as you can.”

“Really? That’s not against the rules?” Her small freckle-dotted nose wrinkles.

I shake my head, trying not to smile too big and make her feel silly for asking. “No. Not against the rules at all. The more you and Daisy bond, the better care she will take of you.”

Sam drops down to her knees in front of Daisy and reaches out to pet her. She’s cautious at first, running her hand over Daisy’s head and neck, and then something snaps in Sam and her restraint disappears. She wraps her tiny little-girl arms around Daisy’s neck and shuts her eyes with a peaceful smile. The sight tugs at something deep inside me.

I know that relief.

Suddenly, my back feels hot, and I’m aware of a new presence. Jacob has peeled himself away from the door and is now standing right behind me, watching his daughter over my shoulder. I don’t want to look at him. I’m afraid that if I do while standing this close, it’ll be like throwing gasoline on that spark of attraction and I’ll burst into flames.

Out of my league.

“She looks happy,” he whispers close to my ear, doing nothing to help my buzzing nerves.

I cave and turn my head ever so slightly. He’s watching Sam with an expression of such raw hope I feel like I could cry. Training camp weeks are always emotional for everyone involved, including me—but this . . . this feels different for some reason. Personal in a way that it shouldn’t. Inexplicably, I feel what he’s feeling.

“Can my dad pet her too?” Sam’s voice is a bucket of water.

“Yep. He sure can. Seizure-assist dogs have to be working twenty-four/seven, and because of that, we want Daisy to be able to just be a dog sometimes too. It’s best to not let other people pet her while you’re in public because we want her to stay focused on taking care of you. But when you’re home, she can definitely enjoy some TLC from your dad and friends.”

We spend the next few minutes going over what we will work on that day, and Sam is jumping out of her skin with excitement.

And then Jacob says something that has me halfway falling in love with him.

“Oh, by the way, there are chocolate chip muffins in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

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