Page 42 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

“Well, I guess we’d better get on it. We can’t be late for camp!” he says. I hand him a cup of coffee to make him feel welcome. Baby steps, right? I’ve decided that I’m not ready to give him up after last night’s kerfuffle.

He gets points for being mature enough to show up. There’s no need to punish Ellie just because we’re on the outs.

After breakfast Ellie runs upstairs to dress for camp, leaving us alone.

“We need to talk, Sam.”

“I know.” I busy myself with the dishes but Jake takes my hands in his. How does he know I deflect with tasks when I’m vulnerable? I’ve always felt that if I stop moving, I’ll break.

He slips a hand under my chin and looks me in the eye.

“I’m not here for a fling. I know Rob hurt you but I’m nothim. I have deep feelings for you and Ellie. Can you meet me halfway?”

I nod, because if I stand here another minute I’ll cry. He cares enough to have a conversation. We might not be perfect, but we both know communication is essential if we are to become closer to each other.

“I’m sorry I was aloof. It’s on me. I know that.”

“Great. Then let’s chalk it up to bad behavior,” he smiles at me and I choke up. A tear slips down my cheek. How the hell did that happen? He uses his thumb and wipes it away.

“Better?”

I nod.

“Good, because Peanut will be here in a minute, and I don’t want her to think I made you cry.” I love how he uses my nickname for her.

I nod again. But he did make me cry, but in a good way, because he's caring and compassionate. He has many endearing qualities but the one that rises above them all is that he understands me better than I understand myself at times.

He pulls me to him in a huge bear hug as Ellie yells, “Let’s go, Jake. We can’t be late!”

“Alright, Peanut. I’m coming.”

They leave and I set about my day with a lighter heart knowing we’re okay.

After work, I join Jake and Ellie in the kitchen as afternoon light streams through the screen door. A warm glow is cast on the cluttered table where Ellie is huddled over her art project. Her brow furrows in deep concentration as she struggles with the latest project she wants to perfect for camp—a mural design that, as far as I could tell, she’s completely lost interest in. Crumpled pieces of paper surrounded her like defeated soldiers, and her pencil taps the table with rhythmic frustration.

Jake sits across from her, leaning forwardon his elbows with a lopsided grin. His presence seems larger than life in our modest kitchen. He’s tall and his presence has a way of commanding attention. Not only that but he’s managed to fit seamlessly into the rhythm of our lives.

“Okay, Ellie,” Jake says, with a warm and encouraging voice. “What if you stop thinking about what they want and focus on what you want? Forget the rules for a minute.”

Ellie sighs dramatically purses her lips together and blows a stray lock of hair from her face. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to turn this in tomorrow. My camp counselor, Amy, is going to think it’s awful.” Her face falls and I wonder if I’ve imposed my perfectionism onto her.

Jake chuckles, unfazed by her dramatics. “Come on, I doubt that. Besides, you’re not painting for Amy—you’re painting for you. Show her what makes you, you.”

“Like, what?” Ellie asked, her voice skeptical but with a flicker of curiosity.

I leaned over Jake’s shoulders to see her picture. There is something magnetic about the way he calmly resolves issues. And that this makes him valuable to his team. He treats her as though her five-year-old worries are just as important as the pressures he faces as a professional athlete. I want to step in, to be the one to reassure her, but I hold back.

The way she looks up to him warms my heart but at the same time, I feel like I’m being replaced.

Jake leans back in his chair, tapping his chin theatrically. “What about all that cool stuff you showed me last week? Those sketches with the animals? I remember a lion and—what was it?”

Ellie’s face lit up. “A fox. I like foxes.”

“See? That’s what I mean. Why not start there? Make it wild and colorful. Don’t worry if it’s perfect.”

She hesitates, then slowly reaches for her crayons and holdsa brown one poised over her paper. “You really think that’ll work?” She sits back in her chair and intently reads his face. She’s a child and yet she’s sizing him up.

Jake grins. “I know it will.”

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