13. Jake
13
JAKE
The warm night is thick with the scent of jasmine that floats on the light spring breeze rolling in from the forest around us. The rain from earlier has left the earth damp, and the crickets have returned, filling the night with their rhythmic song. Fireflies flicker in the tall grass along the fence, and their golden glow dances in slow, lazy patterns. The full moon casts silver light across the porch, casting a pale light that illuminates the dark wooden planks beneath my bare feet. I could get used to this, but I have a team I can’t let down. I’m also too young to retire, but retiring and living somewhere like this would be nice if I were ready for it.
Sam sits beside me on the steps, her knees are pulled up slightly and her fingers curl around a steaming mug of tea. I know she won’t finish it—she never does. It’s more about the ritual, of something warm to hold to keep her hands busy. I know Sam and she’s not one to sit still. She’s a workaholic and maybe it’s a good thing Ellie keeps her so busy.
I lean back on my elbows, stretching my legs out, and letting the silence settle between us. It’s not uncomfortable like it would be with someone else. With us, silence can be a conversation. But tonight, something feels different.
I glance at her and observe the moonlight on her soft skin, and how the shadows from the inside house lights add a sexy ambiance to her beautiful face. Her expression is distant, and her eyes are fixed on something I can’t see.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice low.
Her lips twitch into something that isn’t quite a smile. “I don’t know. Some nights, I think too much.”
I nod, because I know that feeling. “Yeah. I get that.” It’s not like I can forget my team. I’m also curious how my return to the field will pan out.
She shifts slightly to look at me. “What keeps you up at night, Jake?”
I huff out a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Lately? You.”
Her breath catches, just for a second, before she looks away. I can see the conflict in her shoulders, and it’s evident in the way she grips her mug a little tighter. She wants to tell me I shouldn’t say things like that. That this—whatever this is—has an expiration date. But she doesn’t.
Instead, she lets the silence stretch again and the harmony of the crickets fills the spaces between us.
Then, finally, she speaks.
“I think about my sister a lot,” she confesses as if she’s only just admitting it to herself. “And it’s sad she never got to see Ellie grow up, not really.”
I don’t push for an answer, deciding to wait instead.
“She was… electric. The kind of person who walked into a room and turned every head without even trying. I was in awe of her. She was so different from me—so fearless. I think I admired that most.”She pauses, running her thumb along the rim of her mug, lost in the memory. “She was a dreamer and a rebel,” she says. “Always chasing something bigger, something brighter. And for a while, I thought I could be part of that. That we could chase something together. But the truth is… she didn’t want to be caught. Not by me. Not by anyone.”
Her fingers tap the side of the mug in her hands.
“When Ellie was born, she tried. For a little while, she really tried. But I think deep down, I knew she wouldn’t stay confined by society's rules. She loved Ellie, I know she did, but love wasn’t enough to keep her grounded and safe. She was a thrill seeker.”
I’ve seen the way she is with Ellie—the way she protects her, pushes her, and loves her for every ounce of who she is. And I understand why she’s protective. She feels if her sister were more conventional, she would be here today.
“I spent so long trying to be everything,” she continues, her voice thick with emotion. “Her mother and father. Her protector. Her provider. I worked so hard to make sure she never felt like she was missing something. And sometimes, I wonder if I’m just trying to make up for what she lost.”
“You did what you had to do. No kid could ever feel unloved with you as their mom.”
She gives me a small, sad smile and nods. “I just don’t want her to grow up thinking she has to be perfect to be loved.”
I let her words sink in, absorbing them in the quiet of the night.
“Ellie has everything she needs—she’s got you.”
She looks at me then, really looks at me, and I see something in her eyes. Gratitude, maybe. But also fear. And I know what she’s afraid of.
Because this isn’t just about her past. It’s about her future. It’s about what happens next.
I sigh, leaning back, and stretching my legs out again. “You wanna know what keeps me up at night, Sam? It’s the feeling like I’m living two different lives. Like I have to be two different people, and I don’t know how to make them exist in the same world.”
She frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”
I let out a breath. “There’s the version of me that the world sees—the guy who throws touchdowns, the player who plays through injuries, and who’s expected to be the leader and the face of the team when we’re losing a game. And then there’s the guy who’s sitting here right now. The guy who wants something that has nothing to do with football. Who wants a quieter life, you know? I want my life to be more than what happens on the football field on Sunday nights.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
“I want you, Sam,” I say, my voice steady. “I want to build my next act with you.”
“Jake...”
“I know you’re overwhelmed. It’s a big step,” I say, my voice softer now. “I know you think this won’t work because of the distance, because my life is always moving, always changing. But I need to know if there’s a part of you that’s willing to try. Can you meet me halfway?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Maybe it is,” I counter. “Or, maybe you just don’t want it to be with me.”
She exhales sharply, rubbing at her temples. “Jake, I have a daughter. I have a life here. I can’t just uproot everything because I want to try to have a relationship, even if I want to with all my heart.”
My jaw tightens with disappointment, but her response is what I expected. “I’m not asking you to uproot anything. I’m asking if you’re willing to let this be more than just a temporary thing. If you’re willing to figure it out with me.”
Silence hangs between us, heavy and full of our unspoken fears.
I look at her, really look at her, and I see the battle happening inside her. The part of her that wants this, that wants me , and the part that’s terrified of giving up control, or, of getting hurt, and perhaps the fear that one day, she might look up and think she made the wrong choice.
I reach for her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now. I just need to know if you’re in.”
She looks down at our hands, then up at me, her eyes shining with something I can’t quite place. And for a second, I think she might say yes.
She looks up at me, something like regret flashing across her face. “One day at a time.”
I decide I’ll take what I can get. I reach for her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Let’s seize the day.”
“Jake...”
But I shake my head, and reign in my feelings. The fortress around her heart is more akin to Fort Knox—impossible to penetrate.
I shush her lips with a kiss.
When I walk into the restaurant the following afternoon, I’m greeted with the site of fresh dough and the two women in my life enjoying the afternoon with each other. Was it just last week that I was here with Sam and Ellie, making pizzas? I’m thrown back to the memory of sticky fingers covered in flour, and the laughter we’ve enjoyed together bonding over pizzas. Sam has her hands buried in the dough.
It feels like a lifetime ago, and yet the days are flying by too fast. Before long, I’ll be back home, back to the life waiting for me. The thought twists in my chest, but I will my doubts into submission. I refuse to believe Sam doesn’t feel what we’ve become to each other. She’s resisting out of habit and fear. I know fear and if she gives in to it; it will lead her to a dark place.
I know how easily fear and doubt can grip a person because I’ve gone through it with my career. I have anxiety before every game. Will I make a great play? Will I help my team win? I have a fear of failing, just like Sam.
This isn’t my first injury, either. Through experience, I’ve learned that when I become a recluse and stop participating in life, that’s when I need to surround myself with people. It’s easy to be swept away by our internal thoughts and when I can’t think of a positive thought, I know I’m in trouble. The negative thoughts and feelings expand exponentially like cancer.
The love and laughter of my family and friends bring me back to normality—days that have all the emotions, especially laughter and joy. I’m hoping that Sam just needs more time to settle into the possibility that we can become a family. And while I wait, I’m going to soak up every minute we have together.
I lean against the counter, watching as Sam starts to loosen up, and she guides Ellie’s hand on the rolling pin as they roll out pizza dough. Ellie looks up at her with wide eyes, her small fingers pressing into the flour dust on the surface of the pizza pans like she’s a pixie and she’s dropping expensive fairy dust. I pull out my phone and snap pictures of them.
“That's it,” Sam says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Nice and even.”
Ellie beams up at her. “Like this?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Sam lifts the dough and places it on the pizza pan and quickly spreads the red sauce on it.
“Can I put the toppings on?” Ellie asks.
“Go for it,” Sam replies, smiling at me.
Ellie carefully sprinkles cheese over the dough, but not before sneaking a few pieces into her mouth. I smirk, remembering doing the same thing as a kid. Of course, my pizzas were on French bread but I don’t remember making pizzas on it without eating half the ingredients first.
Sam tosses pre-cooked bacon and sausage onto the pie, and Ellie places sliced vegetables in a circle.
“There,” Ellie says, standing proudly on her stool as she places her hands on her hips.
“Jake, we made dinner!”
“I see,” I smile. “I took pictures too.”
“Can I see them?”
“Sure.” Ellie hops down and joins me. I bend, with my phone in hand and she peers over my shoulder. “These are great pictures. Aunt Sam is so pretty,” she states.
“She is, and so are you.”
“I want to be like Aunt Sam when I grow up.”
“You can’t go wrong with that.” I ruffle her hair and she giggles.
Sam has placed the pizza in the oven and she hovers around the heating lamps and finds many plates. A server whisks into the room, obviously frazzled.
“I’m in the weeds,” he says.
“I’ll help. What table?” Sam asks.
“Six.”
“I’ll get these,” Sam replies as she piles plates on her arm and carries one in the other hand. She turns and the server is moving too quickly and bumps into her, sending her plates flying and they crash to the tiled floor making an epic roar. The sight would be comical if it were a movie.
Sam’s surprised by the turn of events and I brace for her to go crazy.
It happened so fast I almost didn’t register it and now the ruined dinner is splayed across the floor in an unsalvageable mess. Conversations have come to a halt mid-word. Silence slams into the kitchen like a thunderclap, and everyone freezes with all eyes turning to Sam.
Sam stands motionless, staring down at the ruined plate at her feet. The meal—an expensive cut of steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and sautéed vegetables—lays in an unceremonious mess on the tile.
And a deafening silence.
I see it before it happens—the way her body locks up, the way her fingers twitch at her sides, the way the familiar look of panic creeps into her eyes. It’s not just about the plate. It never is with Sam. It’s about control. About never making mistakes. About never giving anyone a reason to think she’s failing.
Before a word can be said, Ellie braves her Aunt’s rath and walks forward to comfort her. “It’s okay, Aunt Sam. It’s just an accident.”
Sam’s lips part slightly, her gaze flickering between Ellie, the broken plate, and me. And then something shifts in her expression. A flicker of something—determination, defiance, and the outcome is one I can’t predict.
Sam picks up an empty plate off the line, holds it for just a second like she’s considering the weight of it, and then?—
Smash.
And in this instant, the enormity of the tragic accident is turned upside down.
The plate shatters against the tiled floor, the sound ringing through the kitchen like a declaration of war.
Sam laughs and the tension in the room breaks like a colossal wave. She continues to laugh and Maggie is spellbound, no one knows what to make of Sam’s unexpected response.
I blink. Is Sam developing a sense of humor? “Well, that’s one way to embrace the mess,” I tease.
I see a smirk tugging at the corner of Sam’s lips, and then she hands Ellie a plate.
Ellie’s eyes widen “Really?”
“Really.”
The kitchen staff watches with something between trepidation and awe, waiting to see if they should intervene or just let whatever the hell this is—play out from a safe distance.
I lean against the counter, smirking. “You know, Sam, I always pegged you as a perfectionist. But this?” I gesture to the shards of ceramic scattered across the floor. “This is next-level chaos. Are you ready for this?”
Her eyes flash like a revelation that has gripped her. She mocks a serious look and says, “I’ve never liked these plates anyway.”
That’s all I need to hear before I grab a plate from the counter, testing its weight in my hands and lifting my gaze to hers. “You sure about this?”
Her lips twitch. “Are you?”
I grin, wind up my arm, and send the plate crashing to the floor.
The impact is ridiculously satisfying. It’s downright liberating.
One of the younger line cooks lets out a startled laugh, then quickly clamps a hand over his mouth like he thinks he’s about to get fired.
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Anyone else got a problem with these plates? ”
Maggie, arms crossed, steps forward. For a second, I think she’s about to put an end to the whole thing. But then she sighs, shakes her head, and mutters, “Damn things chip too easily, anyway.”
That’s all the encouragement the staff needs.
Another plate flies. Then another. And another.
Laughter bubbles up in the kitchen, hesitant at first, then growing, spreading. The room, which had been so tense, so rigid with stress and expectation, loosens into something else entirely.
Freedom.
Sam laughs—a real, deep, unrestrained laugh that I don’t think I’ve ever heard from her before. It’s infectious, setting something loose inside of me.
I take a step closer, brushing my arm against hers. “You know, I think you might actually be having fun.
She tilts her head toward me, the light catching the mischievous look in her eyes. “Shocking, isn’t it?”
“A little.” I cock my head to the side.
She shakes her head, letting out another laugh. And for a second, I forget everything that’s been bothering me— like the fact that I have to leave soon and that we still don’t have a plan. And for a second, her fear of being perfect has slipped. None of it matters right now. Because right now, she’s being authentic—spontaneous.
Maybe this is the beginning of a new version of Sam. And maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to realize she doesn’t have to carry everything alone and that an accident or a perfectly placed plan that goes awry isn’t the end of the world.
The tension in the kitchen melts away, replaced by something light, something wild, something free . And now that the tension is broken, joyous energy erupts in the kitchen.
Sam isn’t hovering or overthinking the situation for a change. It’s as if a window has opened inside her because she’s here, and she’s living in the moment. I like seeing her like this—relaxed, free, not carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’s lost her serious veneer, and it makes me love her even more.
She is a testament to my opinion that all of us are capable of change.
Maggie stands at the helm like a battle commander, her voice cutting through the noise as she directs traffic. Maggie is smiling and begins to clap. The rest of the staff follows suit.
“Way to go, Sam!”
Sam takes a gratuitous bow and Ellie follows.
I walk to Sam, wrap my arms around her, and pull her into my chest. “Congratulations, the world didn’t end, did it?” I murmur.
“We’re all still standing,” she shrugs with a glint in her and I kiss her. It’s magical, her warm lips on mine and the entire kitchen staff is watching—even better. The moment is sadly interrupted when Maggie begins to bark orders.
“That steak needs to go out now!” she calls, checking the order slips clipped to the heat lamps. “I need another order of garlic knots! And someone check on that damn lasagna before it burns!”
One of the cooks slides a plate of pasta onto the line just as another reaches for the next pizza in the oven. It’s hot in here, heat radiating from the ovens and stovetops, mixing with the frantic energy of my passion for this woman who is transforming before my eyes.
And I wonder if Sam’s serious nature will soften more now that she survived her first act of tossing caution to the wind.