Page 6 of The Match

I’m letting her push me through the door, but I’m not happy

about it. “But you’re not doing your job; you’re doing mine. I don’t like it, Hannah. I feel like I’m working you guys into the ground.”

“Neither of us have kids or spouses, Jake. We like being worked into the ground by our taskmaster boss. It gives us something to gripe about when we go home to our families at Christmas,” she says, pushing even harder now and nodding for Sam to follow us out.

“I’m going, I’m going.” There’s a good chance Hannah will lock the doors and not let me in again if I don’t leave now.

I get back in my truck and look to Sam, waiting for her to smile up at me like she did for Hannah. She doesn’t, and it’s the most annoying thing in the world to have a ten-year-old give me the silent treatment. I let her, though, because I’m not entirely sure I don’t deserve it.

Miss Jones’s sweet southern drawl pulls at my memory. You’re going to need it when you try to walk out of here with your head shoved so far up your ass.

Pulling into the driveway at our house, I click the button to open the garage and notice that my sister June is sitting on the front porch swing zeroed in on her phone, a box of donuts from her bakery on the seat beside her. June owns an iconic donut shop here in Charleston called Darlin’ Donuts. She’s worked so hard to make that place successful, and it doesn’t escape my notice that she still makes time to spend with Sam. She’s been a miracle for us, and today I arranged for her to come stay with Sam for a few hours so that I can go to the grocery store and shop in peace. And wow that statement makes me feel like the physical manifestation of my mom from twenty years ago.

But I don’t know what I would have done without the help

of June (and my other three sisters) this past year. At one point

in my life, I lamented the fact that I had four of them—all younger than me. Growing up, it was like I was always sneaking into

a sorority house, trying not to get noticed as I tiptoed past

each of their rooms. It smelled like nail polish. They were either fighting ruthlessly or laughing hysterically. One of them was always stealing the other’s stuff, and hell was always breaking

loose.

But now that we are all grown adults, living our own lives, I wish they would move in with me and never leave.

June glances up when she sees us approach and smiles wide. But her grin falters when she sees Sam open the truck door and dive out before I’ve even had a chance to pull into the garage. It’s as if I’ve kidnapped her and she would rather open the door and hurl herself out onto the concrete while driving seventy miles per hour down the interstate than live the rest of her life with me.

Sam’s flip-flops slap the ground angrily, and her ponytail swings like a pendulum all the way into the house. She doesn’t even look back at me, just slams the door shut behind her.

I wince a little and turn to my baby sister, whose eyes are now as big as saucers.

“What in the world was all that about?” she asks as I make my way up the front steps and join her on the porch swing. She offers me a donut, but I don’t feel like eating right now.

“She’s mad at me.”

June laughs. “Yeah, I gathered that. But why? I’ve never seen her throw a fit like that. Usually, she just goes quietly and hides in her room.” June is the only one of my sisters who isn’t married yet, so she’s been around this past year more than anyone else.

“Yeah, well. Unfortunately, those outbursts are becoming more normal by the minute. She even slammed her door in my face the other day. Nearly gave me a bloody nose.”

“Yikes. So, what are you doing wrong?” she asks with a playful grin.

I know she doesn’t mean it seriously, but the comment still stings me somewhere vulnerable. I feel so out of my element lately. I’m quickly approaching the day when Sam will enter puberty, and then I’ll have a whole new pile of worries and insecurities on my plate. Right now I’m just obsessed with making sure Sam doesn’t have a seizure while she’s in the shower, where she could fall and hit her head. In a few years, I’ll be worrying about seizures and the boy who keeps her out past curfew.

My hands find my face, and I rub my palms over my eyes and all the way up through my hair. “I wish I knew. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’m failing at this single-parenting thing.”

June shifts beside me and puts her hand on my back. “Oh, come on now, it was only a joke. You’re doing a great job with Sam.” She rubs circles on my back like I’ve done for her a hundred times. My reply is a halfhearted grunt.

“I’m serious!” She leans in and lays her head against my shoulder. “You’re the best dad I know, besides our own. Top-notch, really. I can’t think of anyone else in the world who could handle all that you’ve gone through this year with so much ease.”

With so much ease? Last night, after Sam went to bed, I was so angry with how hard life has been that I tore a pillow in half. I’d never felt so powerful and masculine . . . until feathers went flying everywhere, making it look more like a scene from a 1990s slumber party movie.

I shake my head and sit up straight, dragging a deep breath into my lungs. “I feel like I’m losing her, June. She’s only ten, but she’s gone through so much heartache this year. It’s like I can see her physically shutting down. And last night, Natalie called and bailed on her visit again.”

June looks pissed. “What was the excuse this time? Another potential audition?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

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