Chapter 8
Samantha
The whistle blew, a ball was thrown, and boys in blue and yellow or red and white scattered around the field.
That was about all Sam knew about soccer.
Wedged between Mrs. McCall and Mia, Josh’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Sam heard Josh cheer, so she did the same.
Sports had never been her thing. But she’d bailed on the Sunday dinner with them recently, so she hated to say no when Josh invited her to the game.
Josh’s son Hayden was out there on the field, chasing the ball while they cheered him on.
If Josh had hoped the game would give Sam a chance to bond with either his mother or daughter, that wasn’t happening.
Marie was watching the game through a pair of binoculars, flinching every time the ball bounced off a boy’s head.
Sam didn’t blame her, but the binoculars seemed like overkill. The boys weren’t that far away.
Sam’s head ached behind her sunglasses. She’d spent most of the night before working on her presentation for Calystrix Pharma.
Winning the company as a new client would be such a thrill.
Kurt would hate it and complain. Was it awful that Sam felt good about that?
She wanted to share her excitement with Josh and talk it over with him.
Maybe they’d have some time alone after the game.
Her eyes felt gritty, her nerves thin. On her other side, Mia was hunched over her phone, earbuds in and thumbs moving rapidly.
Fifteen years old, she was lost in her own world of texts and podcasts.
The whole afternoon felt like a contrived failure.
The prom-dress outing Josh had orchestrated last spring, hoping to give Sam and Mia a chance to bond, looked like a single bright spark in their relationship. Sam felt that spark sputtering now. Would these kids ever accept her? And what about his mother, who rarely made any effort at all?
“Great game, right?” Josh leaned across his mother to catch Sam’s eye, cheerful as ever. Cheerful and oblivious.
“Right. Terrific.” Rubbing her hands together, Sam felt a chill.
The boys raced from one end of the field to the other, all long legs and awkward enthusiasm.
Hayden’s face was bright red, his grin huge.
Sam’s jaw ached from hiding a yawn. She felt Marie’s sharp glance dart her way.
Those eagle eyes were always on her, cataloging, assessing.
Sam felt judged. She didn’t measure up to Cynthia, Josh’s wife, who had been gone for two years now.
Apparently, Cynthia had played soccer in high school.
Marie had made sure Sam knew about that.
The wind picked up, rattling the metal bleachers. Fall color burned behind the field, all scarlet, gold and orange. The air had a sharp bite to it. Sam pulled her green jean jacket tighter.
“Mia, your brother needs your support,” Marie said, leaning forward. Mia didn’t respond. “Earplugs,” Marie muttered. “I don’t know why Joshua allows that.”
Allows that? Sam kept her mouth shut, but wow, the woman didn’t understand teenagers. Or boundaries. Or the fact that Mia’s outfit of shorts, ankle boots, and a sweater that bared her midriff indicated a lost battle fought somewhere else. Did Josh approve?
Sam tried not to stare at the exposed midriff or the long bare legs stretched out in front of them. It was cold enough for goosebumps. Was Mia trying to provoke her grandmother? Or was she just being fifteen?
The crowd was cheering, but an undercurrent of tension hummed beneath it. Sam was caught in the crossfire. Mia ignored her grandmother’s comments. When Hayden’s team scored, Sam seized the chance to stand and clap, lifting her hands high. Was she going overboard? But Josh smiled over at her.
“Let’s not make a scene.” Marie gave her a withering look and Sam sat down. Mia didn’t even look up. Josh said nothing.
“Aren’t you going to cheer for your brother?” Marie asked her granddaughter. No response. Marie leaned across Sam and poked Mia’s arm.
“Stop that!” Mia snapped, jerking her arm away and hitting Sam’s shoulder by accident. The girl’s stormy hazel eyes flashed. Those eyes were so like Josh’s, but today they were hard as the Petoskey stones.
Marie pressed her lips together before saying, “Is that any way to speak to your grandmother?”
Sam shrank, wishing she were sitting next to Josh. Marie and her granddaughter could duke it out. But maybe that was what Josh was trying to prevent by putting her here as a buffer. This was certainly not what Sam had pictured when she’d agreed to come.
This family time sure wasn’t like the time she sometimes spent with Holly, her niece. Izzy’s toddler was cute and it was hard to picture Mia at that age. The teenager was so confrontational. Was this a result of her mother’s death?
She hugged her jacket around her as clouds thickened overhead. Marie went back to her binoculars. Sam fell into the rhythm—stand, cheer, sit, repeat—trying not to think about the fact that she still felt like a visitor in Josh’s life.
She almost didn’t hear the phone ring.
Josh glanced at the screen. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said. Marie barely reacted. This clearly wasn’t unusual.
“Emergency. I’ve got to go,” he said after ending the call. “A broken hip. Maybe I’ll meet you later at the Back Lot.”
Maybe? Sam’s stomach dipped.
“Okay. See you later.” She tried to smile, but it wavered on her lips.
She hated the disappointment that felt like lead in her stomach.
Of course he had responsibilities when he was on call.
She knew that. Had prepared herself for it.
Yet every time it happened, something that felt like regret coiled tighter in her stomach.
Josh’s smile faltered. “Can you drive Mom and the kids home?”
“Oh. Right. Sure.” She’d been thinking of leaving early herself, escaping this minefield, but with Josh taking his car to the hospital, Sam was the only one with a vehicle. She’d met them at the park. Now she was stuck with his mother and two teenagers.
The game dragged. “Do we get another free throw?” she asked one time after the whistle blew and the boys lined up.
“That’s the other team,” Marie said. “You might do some reading about soccer.”
“Oh. Right.” She’d lost interest.
The temperature dipped. By the time the final whistle blew, Mia’s legs were twisted like a pretzel from the cold. Hayden jogged across the field to join them, exhausted. Sam felt wrung out and trapped.
At the Back Lot, things didn’t improve. Hayden, tired but exhilarated, argued with Mia about toppings for the pizza.
Apparently olives were an unforgivable crime.
Their bickering flew across the table like knives until the pizza arrived.
Why didn’t their grandmother settle them down?
Was this for Sam’s benefit? She was so relieved when the pizza finally came.
Marie had opted for a smash burger and spent most of the meal instructing the kids to use their napkins, sit up straight, chew properly and wash their hands.
“But I’m not finished,” Mia protested after her grandmother had told her to go wash up.
“You heard me. You have pizza sauce all over your face.” Marie only needed to say things once and Mia slumped off to the restroom.
Sam tried to smile her way through the meal, but every minute felt strained. She didn’t belong here, and the realization was sharp and painful.
Would she ever belong? Sure didn’t feel like it.
As she dropped them off, no one said anything about it being nice to have her there that day. There was no thank you for the ride. I will not cry. I just will not.
Sam had a lot to think about on the way home.
And none of it felt good.