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Instead, he’d used his clever mind for evil, planting these…ideas that were already taking root.
What if we could date in a way that worked for us both? What if I didn’t have to be entirely alone?
There was still the woman in his house and things he’d said showing me an ugliness I didn’t trust.
Double ugh.
This called for Bea and Shira time. They might not know what to do, but they’d make me laugh, and I could use some comedic relief right now.
Chapter Seventeen
Jake
Carly gave Sage a shove toward me. “Your girl-child demands braids.”
Sage chewed on her bottom lip, blinking her pleading eyes at me. “Please, Dad? Mom does them too loose. They always fall out midgame. I know it’s last minute, but—”
I stomped on the metal bleacher in front of me. “Yeah, it is last minute, so get yourself over here.”
It was a good thing I’d shown up early to her field hockey game, but this wasn’t my first go-round. I’d had a feeling I’d be tapped in for hair duty, and I hadn’t been wrong. Sage sat between my feet while I got busy braiding her hair into two Dutch braids—one of her simpler requests.
We sat in silence while parents and siblings settled into the bleachers around us. Carly was off somewhere wrangling her youngest son, Dex, but her husband, Mike, and middle daughter, Cleo, had taken a seat with us.
Mike shook his head. “Don’t know how you do it.”
“All in the hands. I’ve got my rhythm down.” I wrapped an elastic around the second braid and palmed the top of Sage’s head. “Feel good, Sagie?”
She shook her head all around so violently I was afraid she was going to give herself whiplash. Then she hopped to her feet and flashed me two thumbs up.
“They’re perfect. I don’t think they’re gonna come out for a week. Thanks, Dad.”
“Welcome, baby. Go knock ’em dead.”
“Oh, I will.” With a wide grin, she thrust out an elbow, demonstrating exactly how she was going to knock ’em dead, then scampered down the bleachers to rejoin her team. Surrounded by friends, she said a few things then pointed to me. Ten tweens turned in unison to look at me. I waved, and they whipped their heads back around, giggling.
“Your fan club.” Mike chuckled.
“So weird, man,” I uttered.
“Carly thinks it's hilarious. I told her to wait until Dex is a teenager and his friends get weird about his hot mom.”
I glanced at him. “That shut her up?”
“Oh yeah. For a little while anyway.” He nodded toward the field. “The team’s looking good this year.”
“Sage eats them all up.”
He took his hat off and swiped his forehead. “I was trying to be diplomatic and not brag about my stepdaughter being the best on the field.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll brag about her all day.”
Back when I’d been faced with becoming a teen dad, I never could have envisioned my Brady Bunch future, but here I was, living it. Mike and Carly had been together for a decade and married for six or seven of those years. Mike had come into the situation cool and secure, building a friendship with me while being nice to my kid and her mom.
At their house, with two younger siblings and two attentive parents, Sage had a full-on nuclear family. There were times when she came to my house for the week, I felt she’d gotten the short end of the stick, but she never complained. Besides, Carly and I lived less than a mile from each other. Sage could go play with her siblings and return to my house for peace and quiet when she wanted to.
It worked for us.
A few minutes before the game started, Carly climbed the bleachers with Dex on her hip and Jeremy and Anne in tow. Somewhere along the way, Anne and Carly had become friends, which was funny to me. Anne was very British and regal, and Carly was a loud and proud ATV-riding farm girl. But much like our family unit, their friendship worked.
