Page 33 of Score to Settle
We don’t talk on the journey, which suits me fine. I stroke Buck’s head and watch dark clouds roll slowly over the sky. There’ll be a storm here by the afternoon. I think of sitting by the open fire in the ranch, curled on the couch with my laptop and Buck at my feet, and Jake too.
I shove the daydream aside and hide my groan. One compliment and I’m that nerdy sixteen-year-old who would walk by Jake’s locker, waiting for him to notice me.
“OK,” Jake says as we reach the outskirts of the city. I glance at his face and realize he’s nervous. “This thing I’m going to show you, it’s… it’s important to me.”
On the road ahead, he turns the truck into the parking lot of a recreation ground. The lot is half full with vehicles. I don’t know what this is yet or why I’m here, but it means something that Jake has brought me.
Buck barks his excitement and Jake and I both wince at the sound in our ears. “Alright, we’re here,” Jake soothes, rubbing Buck’s back.
He opens his door and Buck shoots out, sprinting through the neat line of trees to a stretching flat grassy field and a group standing like they’re waiting for someone.
“Is he OK?” I ask as Jake opens my door.
He follows my gaze to where Buck is dancing excitedly around a group of children. “Don’t worry,” he says with a grin. “Buck knows them.”
Jake grabs a large duffel bag from the back, looping it over his shoulder before handing me a stack of small yellow cones, the kind used in school gym classes.
“No one but Mama knows about this,” he says as we walk toward the group. “And that’s how I want it to stay, please. You were right the other night. I’ve not been giving this interview my all. So I want you here, Cassidy, but you can’t write about the specifics of what I’m going to show you.”
I nod. “Am I going to find out what this is at any point?”
“Sure.” He smiles and then steps ahead, striding into the group.
As I draw near, I see it’s a mix of moms and dads along with children ranging in age from toddlers to a sullen teenage girl wearing headphones and looking bored. A woman in her mid-forties with short blonde hair, a clipboard, and a whistle around her neck shoots me a curious look as I approach the edge of the group.
“Hey, everyone,” Jake says, shaking hands and giving hugs to the children. Instantly the energy changes and chatter breaks out among the group. A little boy who looks about six jumps up and down beside Jake, tugging on his sleeve.
“I got a Stormhawks jersey,” he says and Jake whoops, giving him a high five.
Jake catches my eye, beckoning me forward. “Everyone, this is my friend Harper. She’s going to help with the drinks and donuts table for us today.”
There’s a chorus of greetings and I smile back, still not sure what’s going on, but happily taking my place behind a foldout table and putting out the cups, drinks, and food from the bag beside it as Jake takes control.
He’s in his element as he organizes the parents and children into teams for a fun game of football. He has such an easy rapport with the kids, getting down on their level. Even the sullen teen has taken off her headphones and is happily joining in. I can’t help but smile as he leads them through some silly warm-up stretches, the kids giggling as they reach for the sky and then touch their toes. It’s obvious from the way the kids and parents interact that it’s more about taking part and giving them all a chance than it is about winning.
I’m impressed by Jake’s patience. He takes time with each child, especially a boy with leg braces who needs helpmaneuvering with the ball. Jake doesn’t make him feel different, just encourages him to take his time and cheers loudly when he finally scores.
Only when the dad of the teen girl comes puffing over to me, face red with exertion, do I ask him what this group is.
“Football.” The man laughs, shooting me a look like I’m a total moron.
I say nothing, waiting for him to fill the gap.
“For kids who’ve lost a parent,” he adds. I catch the bob of his Adam’s apple and the hitch in his voice before he gulps down a cup of water and turns back to his daughter.
I look again at the group playing football with Jake and see them with fresh eyes. This is what Jake does on Saturdays once a month. He comes to a park and messes around with grieving kids and parents. The understanding and hurt cut into my throat. It’s for these people. For what they’ve lost. But it’s for Jake too and the reason he does this. The hurt he must’ve felt as a boy losing his own dad.
I press a finger to the corner of my eye and tell myself to get a grip. No one else here is crying or looking sad. It’s all laughter and smiles. The little toddler squeals with delight as Jake passes him the football before swooping him into his arms and making a run for the goal line, Buck bouncing at his side. Jake swings the boy one way then the other as people pretend to rush in for the tackle, then Jake tips the toddler headfirst, guiding him giggling to the ground, where he touches the ball to the grass for a touchdown.
“How long has this group been running?” I ask the woman with the clipboard as I help dish out snacks in the break.
She smiles. “Oh, years. Jake set it up when he was eighteen. I was one of the first to join. I brought my son along after his dad died. It made the world of difference to both of us having this to look forward to. When my son went to college, I offeredto help organize things. Jake can’t make every month because of his football commitments but he’s here more often than not.”
The hour flies by with laughter and more touchdowns. At the end, Jake gathers everyone for a team picture, insisting I join in, and I realize this glimpse into Jake’s world has thrown me. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to remember that this man is the same one who humiliated me and broke my heart in high school—the man I thought I hated. I feel split in two by the realization. After the side Jake showed me today, I’m wondering if writing the truth about Jake will really be the payback I thought it would, or if payback is even what I want anymore.
FIFTEEN
HARPER
