18. Jake

18

JAKE

Her eyes are like daggers, and they pierce my heart. I fell badly for Ellie who knows Sam is upset and I know Sam won’t go lightly on me.

But don’t see the evening into a big ordeal—well, maybe I did. Perhaps this is what I feared would happen deep in my heart. I’m not sure. Maybe in the very back of my brain, there was an inkling of doubt that Sam could give up control for one night.

And if I know one thing about Sam, it’s the fact that her little girl got hurt on my watch. And she won’t be quick to forgive me.

I must be crazy to think she could change. What was I thinking? That her over-the-top, overzealous helicoptering would end just because I’m in the picture? I’m kicking myself for being so naive.

And now I’m paying for it because she has very effectively reduced me to being the bubble gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. What will happen to the man who teaches Ellie to ride a bike? Because every kid crashes the first few times out.

What will her punishment be for that guy? Because clearly—it won’t be me. She’s tried me and found me guilty of the most heinous crime on earth. Far be it from me to be human.

But just the thought of another man with Sam makes my heart hurt. I don’t want her to be with anyone else. I’m jealous of the mere inkling of another man taking my place because, in my heart, she’s mine.

The scent of our freshly baked cookies lingers in the air along with the laughs we had while we made them. Ellie and I both love to eat raw cookie dough.

I look into Sam’s eyes and it’s clear we’re in a Mexican standoff. It’s her against me and I’m forced to defend myself. Sam is a Rotty with a bone. She’s the den mother protecting her cub. She’s—well, she’s Sam—the perfectionist has to be in control of every situation.

I watch her face harden, and she crosses her arms defensively over her chest. The muscles in her jaw lock in that way that tells me she’s digging her heels in for a fight.

I had a great night with Ellie. She ate, and we played board games and then settled into a movie so she could transition to the bedtime phase. I didn’t do anything wrong. Kids have accidents. I can take on the roughest defensemen in the league in below-zero temperatures—I got this.

And hell, I don’t want to argue. But I don’t see a way out of this confrontation. Maybe it needs to happen. She’s out of control. And sadly, I need to call her on her bullshit.

“She’s five, Jake,” Sam says, her sharp voice interrupting my thoughts of rebelling. “She doesn’t need to be running around thinking every adult in her life is her best friend. You need to be her role model and she needs structure and… and rules,” she finishes, flustered.

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m not arguing over that, Sam.”

She gives me a look, the kind that shows I’ve lost her, and all reasoning has left the building.

I’m so frustrated it makes me want to flip the damn couch. “Really? Because it sounds a lot like you’re mad at me for wanting to protect my daughter. I’d take a bullet for her, and you know it. I wish I could change the fact that Ellie’s mother died and make her life picture perfect but I can’t. You can’t either. She’s a kid and you can’t keep her in a bubble. She’s going to get hurt, and you need to ease up so she’s not thrown for a loop over her first scraped knee, or her first boyfriend.”

I bite back a curse and take a breath. “I’m mad because you don’t let anyone in, Sam. Not really. You’re always waiting for people to screw up. To prove they’re not good enough. It’s like it’s a dome of protection you use when it’s convenient to push everyone away, including me. Did you push Rob away too? Were you honest about the fact that he left you, or did you leave him?”

Her eyes flash. “That’s not fair,” she responds but the look of anguish on her face tells a different tale. Her response is too quick—it’s a well-rehearsed denial without any critical thinking involved.

I scoff. “What’s it going to be, Sam? You pick apart everyone in Ellie’s life. Why is it that you don’t have a regular babysitter for Ellie? Did you find something wrong with everyone and now it’s my turn? Tag—I’m it. If it wasn’t for a cut finger, what would you have picked to be the issue to throw a wall between us? Sometimes I wonder if you can let anyone other than Ellie into your heart.”

She flinches, but her chin juts out defiantly. “This isn’t about you.”

“The hell it isn’t.” My voice is louder now, and I don’t bother holding it back. “You don’t trust me with her. You think I’m some reckless jock, an idiot who doesn’t get what it means to be responsible for a kid. But I do, Sam. And you know it.” I widen my stance. If she wants a fight, she’s got it. Two can play this game. And I’m an avid adversary, I’m used to calling others on their shit on the field and in the locker room. If she wants a showdown, it’s game on.

She shakes her head, stepping away from me like she needs space. “That’s not fair,” she whispers. And it knocks me off my game. She’s reliving something and for a moment she’s won my empathy. But after a moment, I recover.

“What’s not fair is the way you hover over that kid like she’s made of glass. She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s got a hell of a lot of heart—but if you don’t loosen up, Sam, you’re gonna kill all the joy in her before she even gets the chance to live.”

Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “You think I don’t know that?”

I stare at her, chest tight, pulse-pounding. “Do you?” My eyes implore her to look at me. But the silence stretches between us, heavy and thick.

Finally, she exhales, voice quieter but no less sharp. “I have one job, Jake. One. And that’s to make sure Ellie grows up safe and happy.”

I step closer, shaking my head. “No, Sam. Your job is to raise her to be strong enough to face the world, not to hide her from it,” I reply, my voice—subdued.

She lets out a terse chuckle. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” I say, agitated. “But you can’t keep her locked in a bubble. One day, she’s gonna wake up and realize that as long as you’re protecting her from everything, she has no control over her life. She has to spread her wings and learn to fly with you so she can soar without you. Otherwise, she’ll always be in your shadow and a shadow of herself.”

Her throat bobs, and for the first time tonight, I see something break in her expression.

I lower my voice. “I get it, Sam. You’ve done this alone for a long time. You’re used to being the only one in charge. But if you don’t learn how to let go—just a little—Ellie’s gonna resent you for it. And one day, she’s gonna run toward the first person who makes her feel free, whether they deserve it or not. I don’t think you want that.”

She blinks, and I swear, for a second, I think she might actually listen.

Then she shakes her head. “I can’t do that.”

She turns away, and I move to block her so she can’t escape.

“Damn it, Sam, you can.”

She looks at me, her eyes blazing. “And what, Jake? What do you want me to say? That you’re right? That I’m too strict, too paranoid—too much of a helicopter parent?”

I don’t say anything, just hold her stare. It’s enough to piss her off even more if that’s possible.

She lets out a harsh breath. “You think I don’t know what people say about moms like me? That we’re overbearing, that we don’t let our kids breathe? But do you know what the alternative is?”

Her voice wavers, but she pushes through. “I have to make sure everyone is okay, Jake. I can’t lose her, too.”

I grit my teeth. “She’s not Ellen. She’s a normal kid. She’s not driving cars.”

“She will one day.”

“She’s down to earth. She’s a great kid but if you think you can control the future, or her destiny, I hate to be the one to tell you this but it’s simply not possible. We all have free will to make decisions and your sister’s death was an accident. She drove that road hundreds of times, and she drove them fast, and she was fine.”

“But it only took a second and she’s gone forever.”

“You’re not responsible for her death. It was her life. She lived the way she wanted to. But you can’t raise Ellie in the shadow of your fears. Don’t make her a victim of circumstances.”

She swallows hard, then looks away.

I drag in a breath, trying to steady the anger still burning under my skin. “You can’t live your life waiting for the worst-case scenario, Sam. That’s not living.”

She wraps her arms around herself, looking smaller than I’ve ever seen her. And I hate it. I hate myself for making her feel that way. But I tell myself it’s for the greater good. But Ellie isn’t my kid. And I’m the newbie here, so perhaps I’ve overstepped. Maybe I’ve given myself license to butt in when the reality is that I haven’t earned it, and I’ve misplaced my importance to Sam.

She’s one of the strongest people I know, but right now, she’s just… tired. Worn down by the weight of everything she’s been carrying alone and for too long.

I step forward and take her hand. “I know you’re scared. But she’s gonna be okay. You’re raising a damn good kid.”

Her breath hitches, and her hand lays in mine. “I just want her to be happy.”

I nod. “Then let her experience life, all of life, the good and the bad under your tutelage.”

Sam doesn’t answer immediately. Did I get through to her?

Instead, she pulls her hand away and sinks into the couch. She rests an elbow on the arm of the furniture and runs a hand over her long tresses that have obscured her vision.

I hesitate before sitting across from her. Neither of us speaks for a long time.

Eventually, she sighs. “You’re really not going anywhere, are you?”

I smirk, but it’s softer now, and her new tone gives me hope that we’ll be okay. “Nope.”

She shakes her head like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told. I’m not perfect, but I’d never hurt you or her,” I say, my voice rough. “You know that.”

Her eyes snap back to mine. For a moment, I think she’s going to say something, something real, something raw.

But instead, she presses her lips together. “I know it was an accident. It could have happened to me. Heaven knows I had a learning curve in the beginning. There was bubble gum in her hair, and I had to cut it out. There was the glitter incident where she used Superglue, and it’s still stuck to some tiles on the floor in her bedroom. And the bleached spot on my bathroom counter? It’s nail polish remover.”

We both chuckle and it cuts the tension that’s been between us for the past hour.

There’s a beat of silence. Then?—

“Jake?”

I glance up.

She meets my gaze, something unreadable in her expression. “I do trust you.”

My chest tightens, and for the first time in this entire argument, something shifts.

I just nod. I don’t push her for more because knowing I’ve made my point is enough for now.

Somehow, we survived our first argument.

I’m not opposed to arguing but at the same time, it makes me wonder if Sam can ever truly change. I have doubts about her ability to let me in. Maybe I jumped the gun on that.

What if I’m wasting my time? What if she’s incapable of change?

She’s like the Great Wall of China. Impenetrable. The wall has been up for over two thousand years—and it keeps everyone out of China. Sam has been just as effective at keeping people out.

What makes me any different? Will I meet the same fate? The one of being excluded from her inner circle of three or four people?

Why do I put myself through this knowing that Sam might not change? Sadly, I acknowledge the fact that the odds of the Megalodons winning the Super Bowl are better than my odds of winning her over.

What do I have to do to prove I’m a great man who genuinely loves her and Ellie?

If she won’t meet me halfway, I’m doomed—we’re doomed.

Will Sam continue to sabotage all my efforts so she never has to be vulnerable with anyone?

That’s the fifty-thousand-dollar question and for the first time in a long time, I don’t have the answer.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.