Page 83 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

“And what about your life with him?” she counters. “You keep thinking that compromise means losing, but it doesn’t. It means being an adult and figuring out what’s important. Jake won’t play football forever. He’s got maybe ten years left. That’s time to build something together, to figure out the next step.”

Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but Irefuse to let them fall. Instead, I let out a breath and whispered, “What if we don’t work out?”

Maggie sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Then you can say you tried, Sam. At least you didn’t let fear choose for you.”

I let her words sink in, the weight of them settling into my chest. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time that I start running toward what I want.

Maybe it’s time to fight for Jake.

But I need more time to think this through because the consequences aren’t mine to shoulder alone, and I have Ellie to consider.

27

JAKE

Leaving this town,leaving Sam, leaving Ellie, it all feels wrong. But I don’t know how to make it right.

At the airport, and I’m standing in the line to be screened. I have my phone in my hand, hoping that it rings. I wish Sam would call me and say she changed her mind, but I know that with each passing minute, the possibility of that happening is next to none.

But I still stare at my phone like an idiot, willing it to ring.

I look at the board with departures and my flight will be leaving in an hour. I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. I wanted her to tell me she loved me and we could work this out but that didn’t happen. It’s been a day of disappointment.

I finally have my answer. And it’s the one I’ve been dreading. I’ve been hanging on to the fantasy of us as a family. And no matter what she might feel for me, she’s too afraid to change. Is it fear that holds her back or is she incapable of changing?

I suppose it doesn’t matter now because we’re over. Finished.

After two hours, I’m back in the city. I drive my sports car and I smile when I think of how much Ellie would love this car. I’m used to her being a chatterbox next to me when I drove her to camp and the memory of that makes my eyes mist. She’s a real sweetheart and I’m going to miss her.

I’ll stay in touch but I know that over time, we’ll drift apart. That’s just reality.

Maine greets me with a bitter wind, the kind that bites straight through my jacket and settles into my bones. It’s colder than I remember, or maybe it just feels that way after spending the past two weeks somewhere warmer—somewhere with sunshine, laughter, and two people who made me feel like I belonged.

I drop my bag by the door, rolling my shoulders as I take in the familiar space. Everything’s exactly as I left it—neat, orderly, impersonal. The leather couch sits perfectly centered in front of the fireplace, my sleek kitchen untouched except for the mail stacked neatly on the counter. No stray sneakers kicked off in the hallway. No half-finished art projects cluttering the dining table. No scent of coffee brewing and bacon sizzling while someone hums a song off-key.

Just silence.

I inhale sharply, shaking off the weight settling in my chest, and head into the kitchen. Routine. That’s what I need. Something predictable, something to ground me. I pull out the protein powder, scoop it into the blender, and reach for the almond milk.

Then I stop.

My hand hovers over the fridge door, my grip tightening on the counter.

Back in Cherry Point, I wouldn’t have started the day with a protein shake. No, I would’ve been in the kitchen, flipping Birthday cake-flavored pancakes while Ellie bounced around,asking if she could add “just a few more” sprinkles to the batter. Sam would have been leaning against the counter, pretending to be unimpressed while sneaking bites of whatever I made. And the best part? The way her legs looked in those damn Daisy Dukes she always wore around the house—the soft sweep of her thighs, the curve of her ass that I tried not to stare at but always did anyway.

I exhale hard and push away from the counter, heading for the front door.

By the time I come back inside, a paper bag from the local diner sits on the counter, its scent filling the space with something sugary and familiar. Birthday cake pancakes.

I ordered them out of nostalgia, but now I realize it was a mistake

I grab the sprinkles I had stocked up in my pantry—Ellie’s favorite, the rainbow ones she always made me add to the batter. I shake a few over the top, but even as I take a bite, it tastes like crap and I know it’s missing something.

It’s missing Sam sneaking pieces off my plate when she thought I wasn’t looking.

It’s missing Ellie’s giggles as she licked the syrup off her fingers.

It’s missing the feeling that I’m exactly where I am meant to be.

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