Page 21 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

I’m the image of an everything bagel right now.

All my emotions—curiosity, irritation, intrigue—are jumbled together like seeds stuck in every corner of my life. I don’t like everything bagels. They’re messy, overwhelming, and impossible to enjoy without feeling like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

Jake is the meteorically using seeds. The poppy and sesame seeds and diced onion were sprinkled all over the carefully curated order of my life.

I glance at Ellie, who’s watching Jakewith a look of pure admiration. “Aunt Sam,” she says suddenly, breaking my thoughts. “Do you think Jake likes my picture?”

I blink, confused. “What picture?”

Ellie darts from her seat, running to the side table where her sketchpad rests. She brings it back triumphantly, showing Jake a crayon drawing of him, her, and me standing under a big yellow sun.

Jake studies it, his smile softening. “This is amazing, Ellie. You’ve got talent.”

Ellie beams, her cheeks flushed with pride. “I knew you’d like it. You can have it!”

“Ellie,” I start, but Jake waves me off.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says, tucking the drawing carefully into his pocket. “I’ll treasure it.”

Ellie practically glows as she bounces back to her seat. I can feel Jake’s gaze shift to me.

“You’re raising a great kid,” he says, his voice low enough that Ellie doesn’t hear.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She’s a handful,” I reply wondering why can’t I take a compliment.

“She’s perfect,” he replies, softly.

I turn away from his endearing gaze but I’m filled with emotions that make me wish he’d stay here forever.

The night air is cool against my skin as I step out onto the back porch. The Harvest Moon hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the yard. Fireflies blink lazily in the tall grass, their tiny lights winking like stars that got lost along the way.

I hear the creak of the porch steps behind me and with only a hint of cologne, I know it’s Jake.

“She’s something else,” he says, leaning against the railing.

“She is,” I admit, my arms crossed defensively over my chest.

We stand in silence for a moment, watching the fireflies flicker in the dark. Jake shifts beside me. “Wanna walk the fence line?”

I hesitate, my mind racing with reasons to say no. But before I can come up with one, I hear Ellie’s voice from the doorway.

“Go Auntie!” she says, with a huge mischievous grin. She forced her eyes to enlarge as if she knowingly was setting up the situation.

Is she old enough to play matchmaker?

I glare at her over my shoulder, but she just giggles and darts back inside. She’s incorrigible at times, but I’ve never seen her this animated, or bold.

Jake chuckles, offering his arm. “Well, you heard the boss.”

I roll my eyes but step off the porch, falling into step beside him as we make our way toward the edge of the yard.

The dry grass crunches softly under our feet as we walk, the fence line stretching ahead of us. The fireflies are everywhere now, their lights flickering like tiny lanterns in the dark.

“Are you always this hard on yourself?” Jake asks, his voice quiet.

I glance at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, his eyes on the horizon. “You’re doing everything—running a business, raising Ellie, keeping everything together. But how are you? How are you, Sam McAllister doing?”

---