Page 19 of Score to Settle
Mama makes a move to stand. “I’d better get this packed away and put some breakfast on for those boys.”
“It must be nice having them all home,” I say, pushing aside the guilt. I’m only doing my job. I’m here to write the truth. It’s just a case of waiting for Jake to show it to me.
Her smile widens. “Best feeling in the world to have my three boys sleeping under this roof. I know how lucky I am. At their age they could be on the other side of the world.”
“When did Chase come to live with you?” I ask, remembering the family photos running up the wall and Chase looking so young in those first photos. I can guess the answer, but really I’m asking how it came about.
Mama’s face softens. “He was nearly three, although he could barely speak. He’s my nephew by blood, did you know?”
I shake my head.
“My sister and I have always been big Stormhawks fans. But my love of the game never stretched to loving the players the way some of the female fans do, if you catch my meaning.”
An image of the woman with the bright red hair from last night flashes in my thoughts. The way she snaked an arm around Jake’s neck as we were leaving. The way she pressed her face to his for a selfie was almost proprietary.
“I met Harry in my early twenties and we settled here. Dylan and Jake came along in quick succession and our lives became about running the ranch and raising our boys, but Leanna stillwent to every game. One night she hooked up with Jamel Bishop, a wide receiver who played for the Stormhawks for one season. She got knocked up. Jamel wanted nothing to do with her or the baby. He offered Leanna a chunk of money and signed with a team in Canada.” She pauses and shoots me a look. “Chase knows who his father is, but he’s kept it to himself. I’ve always believed it’s his story to tell if he wants to, so I’d appreciate it if?—”
I give a furious shake of my head. “I won’t write about it.”
“Thank you. Anyway, from day one Leanna struggled. The money didn’t go far and Jamel wrapped her up in a lot of legal stuff when she asked for more. We tried to help where we could, but it wasn’t like we had much ourselves. Then one day she knocked on our door at midnight and handed Chase over. She said she couldn’t do it anymore.” Mama purses her lips. “She kept the engine of her truck running as she handed him to me. That’s how fast it happened. She left and we took Chase in. He’s been my son and Jake and Dylan’s brother ever since.” Her eyes glisten and it’s obvious to see the love she has for Chase.
Mama brushes down her overalls as though physically pushing the memory aside.
“The thing about football players, Harper, is that they’re always hungry. I feel like I’ve spent the last two decades trying to make enough food to fill their bellies.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she loves it. “By the way,” she adds a moment later, “if you ever need a break, the keys for my truck are hanging by the door. Use it anytime you like.”
“Thank you,” I say. Emotion feels suddenly thick in my throat. It’s the same feeling I had when Mama lent me her cowboy boots. I’m pulled away, wondering what my childhood would’ve been like if my mom hadn’t died in a car accident when I was three. What kind of person would I be now? Would I be happier? Kinder? More outgoing? Would I still be a journalist?Would I still feel the need to prove myself to everyone I meet? I guess that’s where Jake and I differ. He doesn’t feel the need to seek approval from anyone because the one person he looked up to died. Whereas my mom’s death left me trying to fill a hole inside me where her love should’ve been.
There are no answers to these questions, so I swallow them down with my coffee, reminding myself that my childhood wasn’t bad. I had a father. I had a home. I had enough food and clothes. I even had people who seemed to love me sometimes. Like Stephanie, my first nanny. She came soon after Mom died and stayed for four years, leaving when I was seven to start her own family. She was kind and mothering, baking cookies with me and reading me bedtime stories. I cried every night for a month when she left.
Then came Penny. She was young and lazy and only stayed for the three months my dad was chasing a story in Colombia. Penny left when Dad returned to find the house in a state and his daughter dirty and sullen. I can’t remember the names of all the nannies that came after her. Some stayed for a few weeks, others for months, but none stuck around for as long as Stephanie. With each new nanny, I told myself that if I was good, maybe she’d be the mom I needed. It became my mission to win them over and make them love me. Each time they left I felt the sting of failure.
I shut the memories down, finish my coffee, and step into another chilly November morning.
Ahead of me the land rolls out, dotted with trees with leaves in brilliant shades of red and gold. Frost glitters on the ground, crunching under my sneakers as I start to run. The beauty and stillness of this place takes my breath away. I choose a path that takes me around the lake and then to the perimeter of the ranch land. I pick up my pace and for a while I forget everything butthe cold air hitting my lungs and putting one foot in front of the other.
I run for an hour until the sting of cold on my cheeks starts to bite and my legs ache. By the time I’m heading back to the ranch, my mind is clear. My resolve strengthened. Jake made a good point last night. I’ve been letting my own opinion of him cloud my judgment. I need to at least pretend to be open-minded if I want him to open up. Even if I already know the angle this feature will take, I still need the facts and the depth Tim asked for. With that thought in my mind, I head inside to start the day.
Jake is alone in the kitchen fixing coffee as I step through the back door. He’s leaning against the counter, staring blankly at the coffee maker. His shoulders are tense and he’s radiating a quiet fury.
“Whoa! Who peed in your cereal this morning?” I quip, flashing a smirk I hope will lighten whatever mood I’ve just walked into.
Jake’s head snaps up at the sound of my voice. His frown deepens into that familiar scowl.So much for our truce last night, I think.
“Not in the mood, Cassidy,” he says, and yep, I definitely dreamt last night. Either that or he’s having second thoughts about our deal.
I could walk away and have the hot shower I desperately need, but two things make me stay. I’m cold and want another coffee, and it’s still on my mind I need to show Jake I’m not the enemy.
I raise an eyebrow but say nothing as I take two mugs from the cupboard and place them beside the machine, studying himfrom the corner of my eye as I move. This isn’t the cocky, doesn’t-want-me-around vibe I’ve felt from him before. This is sullen and brooding, and the journalist in me wants to know what the hell happened between two and eight this morning to cause the shift.
A beat passes in the silence then Jake runs a hand through his thick dark hair. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“And what exactly are you taking out on me?” I ask, pouring the coffee into the two mugs and sliding one across the counter toward him. I cup mine in my hands, warming my frozen fingers.
He taps the screen of his phone, turning it for me to read. It’s from a Denver gossip site and the headline in bold red letters reads: JAKE’S WILD NIGHT OUT. Beneath it is the selfie of him and the redhead taken as we were leaving. His eyes are half closed because he wasn’t expecting the photo. It’s not his best shot. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was drunk, but he had one light beer before moving to soda for the rest of the night.
Beside it are two more photos, both grainy and taken from a distance. The first is Jake carrying a round of beers and the third is him standing close to a woman at the bar, her back to the wall. It takes me a beat to realize it’s me in the photo.
“This is total bullshit,” I say, surprised by the flash of annoyance I feel on Jake’s behalf. “Those drinks weren’t even for you.”
