After Math (15 page)

“He was a foster kid, too. We were in the same foster home together. I was a year older than him and he looked up to me.” He sighs and a tear falls from the corner of his eye and slides into his hair. “His mom died too, like mine, but unlike me, he had a good mom. Her boyfriend got drunk one night and accused her of sleeping around. He shot her right in front of Marcel. The guy tried to shoot Marcel, but his gun jammed and Marcel got out the back door.” Tucker takes a deep breath. “The Browns were his first home, but they were my third, so I knew the drill by then. He’d cry himself to sleep every night, missing his mom, wishing he’d died, too. The other kids made fun of him, but I tried to look after him. I got a few black eyes for it.” He smiles but it’s wobbly, and his chin quivers.

I put my hand on the center of Tucker’s chest and he places his hand over mine.

“Marcel had an aunt who lived in Texas, but she couldn’t afford to come to Nashville to get him. The Browns were mean sons-of-bitches, but most foster homes for kids our ages were rough, and Marcel was soft. He had no business being in foster care. So I decided we needed to find a way for Marcel to get the money to take a bus to Texas.” His laugh is hard. “God, I was stupid.

“The problem was that thirteen-year-olds can’t get jobs and in the neighborhood the Browns lived in, the neighbors didn’t exactly hire boys for yard work. Marcel was ready to give up, but things were getting worse at the Brown’s house. I could have turned them in, but we’d most likely be split up and sent to different foster homes.”

He pauses, and his chest rises and falls. His heart races beneath my palm.

“We passed a convenience store every day walking home from school. One day, I remembered that my dad got two hundred dollars once, robbing a store. Two hundred dollars would be more than enough to buy two bus tickets to Midland, Texas, because we’d both decided we were sticking together, no matter what. I was going with him. We even did a stupid secret blood-brother ceremony.” He shakes his head with a derisive laugh.

“Marcel didn’t know what I planned to do before I went inside the store. I told him to stay outside and keep watch. I didn’t have a gun, but I figured the clerk didn’t know. I put my hand in my jacket pocket and pointed it at him, telling him to hand me all his money. Marcel came in a minute later to see what was taking me so long—just moments before the police showed up.”

My heart aches for the thirteen-year-old boy who only wanted to help his friend.

“We were both arrested for attempted robbery, but plea-bargained down to a misdemeanor. We were lucky enough to only spend a few days in juvie, but we were split up after that. We tried to stay in touch, but we both moved to several homes and had no way to keep track of each other until I graduated from high school. I found Marcel, but he’d changed. He’d run away from his last foster home and joined a gang.” His eyes open and he looks into my face. “A couple of weeks ago, that night at the party when you took me home, Marcel called to tell me that he was being promoted, but he would have to kill a guy. After I talked to him, he told me he’d think about it.”

I squeeze his hand. No wonder he was beating the Dumpster.

“He called me later and told me he didn’t do it. He couldn’t. But then last Saturday night, he told me he didn’t have a choice. The only life he knew was gang life.”

“Tucker, I’m so sorry.”

“He didn’t do it. He’d changed from the boy I knew, but he couldn’t kill someone in cold blood. When he called Thursday night, he told me it was either he follow through with the murder or the gang would kill him. So instead, he decided to kill himself. I told him I’d come there and to wait for me.” His voice breaks. “I found him and bought him a plane ticket to Midland, like I’d tried to do years ago.”

“Tucker, why didn’t you tell me?”

Pain fills his bloodshot eyes. “I was ashamed, Scarlett.”

“
Why
?”

“It was my fault. Marcel’s awful foster homes. His joining a gang. It was all my fault.”

“No, Tucker. You were a kid.”

“I knew better, Scarlett.” His eyes plead with mine to understand. To condemn him.  “I wasn’t stupid. My father went to prison for the very thing I did. I knew it was stupid, but I did it anyway.”

“Maybe so, but Marcel didn’t have to make the choices he made after you were split apart.”

Tucker sits up, his face contorting with his inner turmoil. “Don’t you see? It’s not fair. I ended up with Jason’s family. They found me on Jason’s middle-school soccer team and took me in for the sole purpose of honing my soccer skills. While Marcel lived in filthy, low-class foster homes, I lived with the Wallaces and their upper-middle-class lifestyle. The whole fucking debacle was my fault, and I got rewarded for it while Marcel paid the price. For what
I
did. ”

It all makes sense now. His self-destructive behavior. He thinks he doesn’t deserve everything he’s been given. Marcel received the punishment Tucker should have been given. “Tucker, you may have lived in a nice house, but did they love you? You said they took you in because you could play soccer and they wanted to make you into a star. You may not have lived in the terrible places that Marcel did, but you never felt loved. You weren’t happy. You aren’t happy now.”

He shakes his head with disgust. “Are you sure about that? Look where I’m at now. I’m about to go pro.”

“You’re about to leave everything behind to pursue a dream I’m not sure belongs to you.” My voice shakes. “I think you’re leaving me to follow someone else’s dream.”

He sits up and leans over his legs, sucking in deep breaths as though he’s about to hyperventilate.

Oh, God
. He thinks that’s his punishment, too. That he deserves to lose me.

I sit up and take both of his hands. “Maybe you think you owe the Wallaces for taking you in. Or maybe you think you owe Jason for—”

“Scarlett, stop.” His face hardens. “I want this.”

“Do you, Tucker?”

“You saw me play. I’m good.”

“You’re more than good. You’re fantastic. But does it make you happy?”

His eyes narrow with anger. “I thought you made me happy, but look how well that’s working out.”

I gasp.

He takes several deep breaths. “I love you, Scarlett.” His shoulders shake as he climbs out of bed. “But you know it’s not enough.”

I struggle to keep my wits together and remember that he’s doing this on purpose. He’s trying to hurt me so I’ll be the one to leave this relationship. “You’re doing it again. You’re trying to destroy what you think you don’t deserve.”

“Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Scarlett.” He pulls his pants on. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“But I do. I
know
you.”

“You spend a couple of weeks with me and you think you know me? You don’t know shit about me, Scarlett.” Hatred fills his eyes as they pierce mine, but I know the hate isn’t directed at me. It’s directed at himself. “I’ve fucked every girl I could get into bed, and quite a few anywhere I could screw them. I’ve been arrested more times than I can count and the Wallaces get me out of it. Every fucking time. You think I can just walk away from this soccer contract? Well, guess again, Scarlett. I’m the Wallace’s whore. They’ve paid to get me out of all of those things with the sole intent on making bank with me. Guess what? I let them.”  He inhales deeply and stares at the ceiling. “I fucking let them.”

“Tucker, you didn’t know.”

His gaze lowers to mine, his anger simmering. “See? You don’t know shit about me. I knew exactly what they were doing.”

We stare at each other in silence while I struggle with what I can possibly say to make him realize he has a choice in this. Whether he stays with me or not, he doesn’t have to play professional soccer.

But he knows me, too. “Keep your arguments to yourself, Scarlett. It’s wasted breath. There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

“So what does this mean for us?”

He shakes his head. “You already know what this means. You knew the second you opened your door this afternoon.”

I know I should be upset, but I’m numb from disbelief. How can this be happening? “So this is it? Right now? You’re just going to walk away from me? From us? Because you feel like you owe a rich couple who bought you to be their source of pride?”

“Everyone’s always telling me to be more responsible. Maybe that’s what I’m finally doing.”

“Walking away from me is being responsible?”

He shakes his head, self-disgust covering his face. “I never deserved you. I’m getting exactly what I deserve.” He pauses in the doorway. “Goodbye, Scarlett.’

And then he’s gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

It’s a Saturday in spring in Tennessee, and the campus at Southern University is full of youth and excitement. The Chicago Fire is about to play Sporting KC and students at Southern have become professional soccer fans since Tucker’s addition to Fire. The student body has taken over the student union to watch the match on a big-screen TV every Saturday for over a month.

“This is a terrible idea,” Caroline grumbles as we walk across the campus. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

I wish I knew. Tucker’s been gone for over two months and just the mention of his name shreds my soul, but I feel like I owe him my support. No matter how much it hurts.

“She just needs to move on.” Tina loops her arm through mine. “Let’s attend this thing, look for a new guy for you, and call it closure.”

I shake my head with a condescending smile. I’m nowhere near ready to think about another guy. I’m not even close to having recovered from the last one.

“Have you heard about your internship with the FBI yet?” Caroline asks in an attempt to change the topic.

“No, but since the math department got that new computer program, it makes me much more likely to get accepted.” I’m counting on that. Most internships I’m interested in are in Washington D.C. or New York, which means additional living expenses I can’t afford. This internship is at the local FBI office and would be great on my application for a job at the CIA. My heart may have been broken, but I refuse to give up on my own dreams.

The student union is crowded when we arrive. This is the fifth party they’ve had to watch Tucker play, but it’s the first time I’ve attended. I was still too raw before, and I’m not entirely sure why I’m coming this time. Perhaps Tina is on to something. Not about hooking up with another guy. Maybe I need more closure than watching Tucker walk out of my life. Maybe I just need to see him playing and prove to myself that he’s happy.

As stupid as it sounds, I just want him to be happy.

People give me curious glances when we get drinks and hang out in the back. They know I dated Tucker briefly, but it was longer than he’d dated anyone else. They are curious about our current status. Most think I’m just one more in a long line of women caught in Tucker Price’s aftermath.

Perhaps they’re right.

When the game starts, the crowd hushes. The announcers introduce the players on both sides and seem confused that Tucker isn’t on the field. They begin to speculate where he might be.

“Price has been the model player, despite the fact that he had quite the reputation for partying at Southern University—”

The students shout and cheer at the mention of the university’s name, drowning out part of the announcer’s statement.

“—hasn’t been any official word from the Fire’s camp, leaving us to wonder where he might be. But word has been leaked that he’s battling a flu bug and won’t play in today’s game.”

Everyone groans, and I’m suddenly feeling claustrophobic. I needed to see him play, but I can see that’s not going to happen.

Caroline has found a friend from one of her classes and Tina has disappeared with a guy. I lean over to Caroline. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

She nods, but worry wrinkles her forehead.

I offer her a smile to reassure her that I’m not about to freak out. I’m not. I just need a moment alone.

I practically bolt up the stairs and out the doors, needing the fresh air to sooth my nerves. I find a nearby courtyard and sit on a concrete bench, focusing on the daffodils blooming around the patio edge.

Tears burn my eyes, stoking the anger that lies smoldering in my chest. I needed this. I needed to see him. For some stupid reason, I can’t move on until I know he’s okay.

“Scarlett?”

I shake my head as I wipe away a tear from my cheek. I’m hallucinating now. I’m sure I hear his voice in the distance.

“Scarlett.”

His voice is closer now, and I whip my head around to see Tucker standing ten feet away.

“What…” I shake my head, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

I’m lightheaded from shock and I blink to make sure I’m not imagining him. “But you’re supposed to be in Kansas City. You’re supposed to be playing in the game.”

He grins, his cocky Tucker Price grin, but there’s fear in his eyes. “I know. Since when did I follow the rules?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Seeing you.”

I twist my hands in my lap. I can’t let myself dare to hope that he’s here for the reason I hope for.

He sits down on the bench, but leaves several feet between us. “I said some ugly things to you, Scarlett. I can’t live with myself, knowing that I hurt you like that. I need you to know I’m sorry.”

Tucker needs the same thing I do. Closure.

His voice breaks. “I didn’t mean the things I said.”

I look up into his face, searching for some sign of his intentions, but his face is carefully guarded. “I know. You were trying to push me away.”

“You have no idea how sorry I am. How many nights I’ve laid awake wishing I could take it back.”

I smile, frustrated that tears fill my eyes again. “I think I do.”

He sighs and his mouth twists. “I’m here to tell you I’m sorry for what I said, and I am, but there’s more. So much more.” He takes my hand. “Do you know what I’m most sorry for?”

My chest tingles when he touches me. I’ve spent more time away from him than we ever spent together and I still have the same reaction to him. I shake my head. “No, what?”