Page 9 of Score to Settle (Oakwood Ranch #1)
I reply with a bright smile, pushing aside any hope of asking him some background questions and choosing a different tack.
“I thought we could look at your schedule over the coming weeks. I’ll need to book flights and hotels for your away games and it would be good to find some times for us to hang out that isn’t just me trailing behind you. ”
Jake replies with his usual scowl but drops onto the bench at the table, staring at the back door like he’s willing someone to charge through it and rescue him.
I sit opposite and open my laptop to the Denver Stormhawks schedule.
“So there are games every week on Thursdays and Sundays between now and the start of January, when it becomes about the finals and then the Super Bowl. Starting on Thursday with the Thanksgiving game against LA?—”
“Playoffs,” Jake cuts in.
I frown, pushing my hair behind my ears. “Sorry?”
Another eyeroll. “They’re not called finals, they’re called playoffs.
At the end of the season, the division winners from each conference—the AFC and NFC—make the playoffs, along with three wild-card teams from each conference.
Please tell me you know the NFL is split into two conferences: the American Football Conference and the National Football Conference?
That each has sixteen teams, divided into four divisions—North, South, East, and West. The Denver Stormhawks are in the AFC West, along with Chase’s team—the Kansas City Trailblazers—plus the Las Vegas Desertraptors and the LA Wildhorns.
Each season, teams play games within their division as well as against teams in other divisions from their conference.
“When the playoffs start, it’s elimination games.
Division winners and wild-card teams face off, and the last two teams standing meet in the Super Bowl.
That’s the biggest game of the year. For the Stormhawks to make the playoffs for the first time in four years, we need to win the AFC West. But you already know all that, right? ”
“Right.” I nod, hoping my cheeks aren’t burning as I pull my laptop closer and duck my head, typing a string of nonsense just to look busy. “Playoffs. That’s what I meant.”
He frowns and moves to the side so he can see my face. “You do know about the NFL, don’t you?”
I laugh and give an outraged, “Yes.”
“Good. Because a sports journalist who didn’t know anything about the game writing a profile on a tight end would be pretty stupid.”
Fuuuuuck! I grit my teeth and cringe inwardly at how accurate Jake’s comment is. What was it Mia said about tight end positions? They’re a do-it-all player, whatever that means.
“Don’t worry. I know the game.” I force a light laugh before steering the conversation back to our plans. “So on Thursday we travel to Los Angeles for the Thanksgiving game against the LA Wildhorns,” I say.
He nods. “We stay over and we’ll fly back on Friday. And before that, I’ll be at practice at Stormhawks Park, our training facility, or at the stadium with the team most days. We usually get a rest day after games, but that’s it.”
We go back and forth on the schedule and I make notes on what flights and hotels I need for the two away games the Stormhawks are playing during our five weeks together.
I make him give me his number so we can arrange places to meet after practice. And even though it’s kind of dumb and I hate myself for it, there’s still a tiny part of me that can’t believe I’ve got Jake Sullivan’s digits in my phone. I can imagine Mia’s squeal of delight when I call her later.
Jake’s looking like he’s ready to make a run for the back door when it flies open and Mama steps in with a bag of groceries in her arms and a beaming smile. Jake leaps up and takes the bag from her and she stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.
“You won’t believe who I found on my way back from the store,” she says.
“Who?” Jake asks as Dylan appears from somewhere in the house, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. He’s trying to look casual but there’s something about his posture that seems stiff. It makes me wonder if he’s in more pain than he’s letting on.
Before Mama can reply, Buck tears through the open back door, barking with delight, dancing in circles, looking between us as though he wants to be the one to answer.
“Buck only ever looks this happy for one reason.” Jake’s face breaks into a huge grin as he throws himself at the door and drags his younger brother into the kitchen.
“Surprise.” Chase laughs before struggling out of the hugs Jake and Dylan are trying to give him.
“Go easy on my baby,” Mama warns, although she’s beaming with pride and delight at her three boys all in the same room together.
Chase is exactly how I remember him. Tall and athletic with a smile that makes me think he’s only ever one step away from mischief.
The only difference from the Chase in high school is his hair—the Afro curls have been replaced with a close shave.
And even though I know he’s not Dylan and Jake’s brother by blood, he has the same air of confidence about him, like all three of them are exactly where they’re supposed to be in the world.
I smile, one part of me happy to remember the times in senior year when we hung out together—two sets of best friends.
Mia and me, and him and Serena. This was the year after Chase and Mia’s short romance fizzled and they realized they were better as friends.
Back then, I felt like I didn’t really belong, but Chase always went out of his way to be nice to me and often had us cracking up with his silly jokes.
But another—larger—part of me is dying inside for the car crash about to happen.
I was really hoping to get through the next five weeks without Jake learning I was only two grades below him at West Denver High. And that meant not seeing Chase.
It’ll be fine , I tell myself without confidence.
Even if high school comes up, it’s not like Jake knows I’m the one who wrote that story about him.
I never put my name on it, thank God. My cheeks still burn at the memory of my story plastered over lockers and walls, and Jake’s response to his friends, those cutting words.
In hindsight the article I wrote was more of a love letter, questioning if the star of the football team was really quite lonely.
It ended with a time and place to meet if he wanted to know who I was.
I still remember the hope I felt slipping it into his locker in the last week of the semester before Jake left for college.
The excitement that he might come to find me in an empty top floor classroom.
My last chance before he was gone to tell him who I was and how I felt about him.
I cringe thinking about that version of myself.
But I was just a dumb kid who was lonely and thought she was in love.
The article was never meant for anyone but him.
But Jake made a joke of it and then he made copies for the rest of the school to laugh at too.
He might not have known who wrote that article, but it didn’t reduce the sting of humiliation I felt seeing him and the entire school laughing over my words.
I lost two things that day: my faith in Jake—the boy I thought I was madly in love with—and any shred of confidence in myself and my choices.
Years later, I still battle with the latter.
Still question everything I do, everyone I let into my life, while Jake continues to walk around messing with people’s lives and not giving a damn.
At least with this feature, the rest of the world will see Jake is every bit his reputation and then some.
I just have to let him prove he is who they all think he is…
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dylan asks Chase. “Tell me you didn’t get benched,” he adds, shooting a side-eyed look to Jake.
Chase laughs. “For your information, the doc says my shoulder needs another week of rest and Coach wants his star quarterback ready for the big games. The Trailblazers are going to crush the Skychargers tonight, anyway.”
“Good to see you haven’t lost your ego in joining the Trailblazers,” Jake quips, slapping him on the back. “Seriously though, it’s good to see you.”
“You too, bro.”
Jake nudges Chase. “Hey, let’s hit the field for some throwing practice in the morning like old times.”
Chase sighs but he’s grinning too. “Here we go. This is about my throw in the second quarter of the Desertraptors game, right?”
Dylan laughs. “You mean the throw even Mama could make?”
“Leave me out of this, thank you,” Mama calls out.
I watch as the three brothers fall into an easy banter about Chase’s last game.
It’s impossible to miss the strong bond between them and how being with his little brother brings out a softer side in Jake.
It’s not just the absence of his usual scowl.
He’s holding himself differently. He looks happier.
Quietly, I close the lid of my laptop, about to head for the door.
I might be here to get to know Jake, but right now I’m intruding on some precious family time.
Except Mama is calling across the kitchen before I’ve made it two steps.
“You can sit your ass back down, Harper.” I swear she hasn’t even turned around.
“While you’re staying in this house, you’re part of this family,” she adds as though reading my mind.