Page 59 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

I watch her face harden, and she crosses her arms defensively over her chest. The muscles in her jaw lock in that way that tells me she’s digging her heels in for a fight.

I had a great night with Ellie. She ate, and we played board games and then settled into a movie so she could transition to the bedtime phase. I didn’t do anything wrong. Kids have accidents. I can take on the roughest defensemen in the league in below-zero temperatures—I got this.

And hell, I don’t want to argue. But I don’t see a way out of this confrontation. Maybe it needs to happen. She’s out of control. And sadly, I need to call her on her bullshit.

“She’s five, Jake,” Sam says, her sharp voice interrupting my thoughts of rebelling. “She doesn’t need to be running around thinking every adult in her life is her best friend. You need to be her role model and she needs structure and… and rules,” she finishes, flustered.

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m not arguingover that, Sam.”

She gives me a look, the kind that shows I’ve lost her, and all reasoning has left the building.

I’m so frustrated it makes me want to flip the damn couch. “Really? Because it sounds a lot like you’re mad at me for wanting to protect my daughter. I’d take a bullet for her, and you know it. I wish I could change the fact that Ellie’s mother died and make her life picture perfect but I can’t. You can’t either. She’s a kid and you can’t keep her in a bubble. She’s going to get hurt, and you need to ease up so she’s not thrown for a loop over her first scraped knee, or her first boyfriend.”

I bite back a curse and take a breath. “I’m mad because you don’t let anyone in, Sam. Not really. You’re always waiting for people to screw up. To prove they’re not good enough. It’s like it’s a dome of protection you use when it’s convenient to push everyone away, including me. Did you push Rob away too? Were you honest about the fact that he left you, or did you leave him?”

Her eyes flash. “That’s not fair,” she responds but the look of anguish on her face tells a different tale. Her response is too quick—it’s a well-rehearsed denial without any critical thinking involved.

I scoff. “What’s it going to be, Sam? You pick apart everyone in Ellie’s life. Why is it that you don’t have a regular babysitter for Ellie? Did you find something wrong with everyone and now it’s my turn? Tag—I’m it. If it wasn’t for a cut finger, what would you have picked to be the issue to throw a wall between us? Sometimes I wonder if you can let anyone other than Ellie into your heart.”

She flinches, but her chin juts out defiantly. “This isn’t about you.”

“The hell it isn’t.” My voice is louder now, and I don’t bother holding it back. “You don’t trust me with her. You think I’m some reckless jock, an idiot who doesn’t get what it meansto be responsible for a kid. But I do, Sam. And you know it.” I widen my stance. If she wants a fight, she’s got it. Two can play this game. And I’m an avid adversary, I’m used to calling others on their shit on the field and in the locker room. If she wants a showdown, it’s game on.

She shakes her head, stepping away from me like she needs space. “That’s not fair,” she whispers. And it knocks me off my game. She’s reliving something and for a moment she’s won my empathy. But after a moment, I recover.

“What’s not fair is the way you hover over that kid like she’s made of glass. She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s got a hell of a lot of heart—but if you don’t loosen up, Sam, you’re gonna kill all the joy in her before she even gets the chance to live.”

Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “You think I don’t know that?”

I stare at her, chest tight, pulse-pounding. “Do you?” My eyes implore her to look at me. But the silence stretches between us, heavy and thick.

Finally, she exhales, voice quieter but no less sharp. “I have one job, Jake. One. And that’s to make sure Ellie grows up safe and happy.”

I step closer, shaking my head. “No, Sam. Your job is to raise her to be strong enough to face the world, not to hide her from it,” I reply, my voice—subdued.

She lets out a terse chuckle. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” I say, agitated. “But you can’t keep her locked in a bubble. One day, she’s gonna wake up and realize that as long as you’re protecting her from everything, she has no control over her life. She has to spread her wings and learn to fly with you so she can soar without you. Otherwise, she’ll always be in your shadow and a shadow of herself.”

Her throat bobs, and for the first time tonight, I see something break inher expression.

I lower my voice. “I get it, Sam. You’ve done this alone for a long time. You’re used to being the only one in charge. But if you don’t learn how to let go—just a little—Ellie’s gonna resent you for it. And one day, she’s gonna run toward the first person who makes her feel free, whether they deserve it or not. I don’t think you want that.”

She blinks, and I swear, for a second, I think she might actually listen.

Then she shakes her head. “I can’t do that.”

She turns away, and I move to block her so she can’t escape.

“Damn it, Sam, you can.”

She looks at me, her eyes blazing. “And what, Jake? What do you want me to say? That you’re right? That I’m too strict, too paranoid—too much of a helicopter parent?”

I don’t say anything, just hold her stare. It’s enough to piss her off even more if that’s possible.

She lets out a harsh breath. “You think I don’t know what people say about moms like me? That we’re overbearing, that we don’t let our kids breathe? But do you know what the alternative is?”

Her voice wavers, but she pushes through. “I have to make sure everyone is okay, Jake. I can’t lose her, too.”

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