Page 79 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

I console myself with the fact that we’ll find our rhythm without Jake, it will just take some time to readjust. The sooner we get used to the way we were, the easier it will be.

“Will Jake be here after school?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

Her sad eyes aren’t saying what she feels. I’m sad too.

I drop Ellie off at school and by the time I get to the restaurant, I’ve already convinced myself I can fix this.

But the moment I stepped inside the dining room, I knew someone didn’t do their job last night.

The tables aren’t wiped down properly. There’s a smudge on the glass pastry case. The restaurant is fine—anyone else would walk in and see a cozy, welcoming space—but all I see are mistakes.

I see all the things that aren’t perfect.

I pull my hair into a tight ponytail, my fingers trembling slightly.

I am in a mood when I reach the kitchen.

“Good morning to you too,” Maggie calls dryly from the espresso machine.

I ignore her and grab a rag. “Who closed last night?”

“Ryan.”

“Figures.” I exhale sharply, wiping down the counters myself, even though they don’treallyneed it. “He never remembers the details.”

“Neither do half the teenagers you hire.” Maggie arches a brow, handing a latte to a customer. “Cut them some slack.”

I shake my head. “If I don’t stay on top of this place, things start slipping.”

Maggie leans against the counter, watching me with narrowed eyes. “You meanyoustart slipping.”

I stiffen. She knows me too well. She has always had the uncanny ability to see me.

“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter, moving to the back to check inventory, even though I know the order list is already up to date.

But Maggie doesn’t let me escape.

She follows me into the backroom, arms crossed. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

I glare at her, but she doesn’t flinch. She digs in.

Maggie has been my best friend since high school, and she’s never been afraid to call me out. It’s one of the things I love about her.

And right now, it’s one of the things Ihateabout her.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I just need to focus, okay?”

She tilts her head. “You mean you need to control everything or you’re running away. Those are your defenses.”

I swallow hard.

I hate how right she is.

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