“Hey,” I manage, my voice sounding a little too cracked and unsure.
Jamie’s lips twitch as though he’s tamping down a smile. “Hey.”
It’s just one word, but it settles deep in my bones, grounding me completely. He showed up like he said he would, and being in his presence feels nowhere near as intimidating as when his father would sit across from me.
No. There’s something inherently different about the two of them, and I guess now that I know he’s adopted, it kind of makes sense.
“I’m sorry I’m late. My professor kept me back, and then I bumped into Zach, and, well, I’m sure you can imagine how that went down.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Well, your face is intact, so that’s already better than I expected.”
Jamie huffs a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, he must’ve decided I wasn’t worth bruising his knuckles over. Either that or he figured public murder would tank his draft stock.” He glances at me sideways, lips twitching. “Lucky for me. I don’t exactly have a great track record with being worth the effort.”
The self-deprecation catches me off guard. The Jamie I remember, granted, from one admittedly hazy night and Honey's stories, wasn't exactly known for his humility.
I point my thumb toward the bleachers. “We should probably grab a seat—looks like they’ll need the field soon.”
“Yeah.” He nods quickly. “Sitting sounds good.”
I take the lead and feel his eyes on my back all the way up the steps until I pick a spot near the edge. He slides in beside me, leaving a little space between us.
Out on the grass, Zach is already showing Ella how to set her feet, and Reese is tossing easy spirals to a line of kids who are looking up at him adoringly. Then all of a sudden, I feel… awful. They’re in the thick of it with Ella, and I’ve got Jamie benched at my side when he’s her dad.
He notices where I’m looking. “I can go down there,” he offers, his voice low and a little hesitant. “Help collect balls. Encourage the kids, or I can stay up here. Whatever makes it easier for her.”
The knot in my chest loosens a fraction. “You’re fine here.”
His mouth tips, and there’s a small, grateful almost-smile. “Okay.”
We sit together as we watch Ella, who’s laughing hard at something Zach said. Jamie’s leg is shaking so fast, I can feel thevibration through the bleachers. I don’t call him out on it. Feels a little harsh since he’s openly watching his daughter for the first time.
“I feel like I should be down there,” he says after a beat, his eyes focused on her. “Earning it.”
I gently place my hand on his knee, and he jerks his head in my direction, clearly surprised. I keep my face neutral, ignoring the tingles running up my arm, and say, “You are earning it. By doing what I asked.”
His body relaxes, and his jaw unclenches. “Right.”
He turns his attention back to the field, and I subtly watch him, watching her—no flinching, no checking his phone, just a guy taking in every second.
“After the drills,” I say, more to myself. “When they break for water, you should go down.”
He exhales, but keeps his focus firmly on Ella. “I’ll be ready.”
For a few minutes, we sit in a comfortable silence and watch the play on the field. Ella throws a ball toward Reese, It hits his leg, and he pretends to fall over, flailing with exaggerated drama. She bursts into laughter, and even Zach cracks a smile before throwing another ball her way.
“She looks like you,” he says.
I let out a dry laugh. “Not even close. She’s a carbon copy of you.” His stare burns against my skin, but I refuse to turn. It’s easier to watch the game than to face him. “You’ve got the same face. Same cheeks. Same smile.”
“You think so?” he asks quietly.
I nod, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Honey mentions it all the time, and I guess I see it now.”
He draws in a sharp breath, leaning back on the bleachers. “Bet Honey hates that.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” I say, giving him that small mercy. “She’s not bitter. Not about you, at least.”
His mouth opens slightly like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. Maybe because he knows he doesn’t deserve any kind of sympathy from Honey. Maybe because no amount of small talk can help the fact that we know nothing about each other except what others have said.