Free Agent-ARE-mobi

by Mari Carr

  “Really? No plans beyond football?”

  He shrugged. “I’m making a lot of money. I hired a smart financial advisor who’s made some really good investments for me. I don’t have to work another day in my life if I don’t want to.”

  She shook her head. “You see? This is what’s wrong with the world. I’m teaching five-year-olds how to read and write and think for themselves and I’m struggling to pay my bills every month. Meanwhile…”

  She stopped, looking somewhat chagrinned.

  “Go ahead. Finish what you were going to say.”

  “No, I—”

  He finished her rant for her. “Meanwhile, I make millions just throwing a football.”

  Lela crinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of opening my mouth and inserting my foot.”

  Tucker wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I could never do what you do. And I do think teachers are grossly underpaid, while athletes are seriously overpaid. Not that I’m complaining about that disparity, mind you. I’m on the good side of the equation.”

  She elbowed him in the stomach as he laughed.

  Then her face sobered. “Are you sorry you came back?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not at all. Quinn has forced me to open my eyes and look at some things I was trying not to see.”

  “Like?”

  “Like…I should have called you back. Answered those letters. Sent you an email. I’ve thought about you a million times since I left. Regretted the way it ended. The way I hurt you.”

  She frowned. “The way you hurt me? Tucker, I was the raving lunatic. I was the one who said all those hateful things. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. How much I wish I could take it all back. You’d just lost your mother and I…God…I was so selfish, so wrapped up in my own emotions.”

  He took her face in his hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lela.”

  She snorted. “I did it all wrong.”

  He smiled. “So basically I’ve spent twelve years regretting my actions, while you’ve done the same?”

  She nodded.

  “What a waste of time.”

  She clasped his wrists, then turned her head to place a soft kiss to his palm. “Time to let it all go?”

  “I just did.”

  Lela giggled. “Me too.”

  Tucker kissed her again, harder this time. His emotions were so close to the surface, he felt raw. Lela always knew how to soothe his pain, take it away.

  She answered the kiss, opening her mouth, her tongue touching his. She ran her hands over his chest, stroking the muscles, stoking the fire.

  Tucker pulled away briefly, tugging his t-shirt over his head. He needed her hands on his skin.

  Lela wasted no time taking advantage of the chest he’d bared for her. Her lips latched onto one of his nipples as her hands slid around him, nails scoring a path down his back. She understood the pleasure to be found in little pains. He wondered how they’d failed to recognize these shared needs all those years ago.

  He found the hem of her shirt and lifted it off. Then he went to work stripping away her bra and shorts as well.

  Lela’s hands fumbled with the button on his jeans, struggling to free him. He stood and took care of the business himself.

  Tucker used their divested clothing to form a blanket of sorts on the soft grass near the bank of the creek. He eased her onto it, then came over her.

  Lela’s legs were parted, ready for him. He accepted the invitation, sliding into her wet warmth. She was tight, hot. His.

  Passion ruled the day as finesse was tossed aside. Tucker’s needs were simple. Fuck or die.

  Lela had given him her heart, her trust, her body. Her past and her present.

  He needed to prove to her he’d given her the same. Over and over, he pounded into her, Lela’s hips tilting up to meet him, her pussy clenching each time he retreated, as if her body resented him trying to leave.

  “Tucker. God. Harder.”

  Her words, her cries of pleasure, drove him on. There was nothing he wouldn’t give her. Nothing.

  The world around them disappeared, shrank down to simply her and him and the need to come.

  When his climax struck, Lela was right there with him. They jerked together, Tucker pressing to the hilt and holding, filling her.

  He twisted, falling to her side in the grass. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he felt as if he could lie here, just like this, and sleep for a week.

  After several minutes, Lela rolled toward him, wrapping her arm around his waist and resting her head on his chest. He soaked up her warmth, the closeness. There was no need for words between them.

  Tucker closed his eyes—just to rest them—then opened them much later, surprised to find Lela dressed and sitting on the bank, her feet in the water.

  “How long was I asleep?”

  She turned around at the sound of his voice and smiled. “About an hour.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She waved his apology away. “You were clearly tired. You needed sleep.”

  He pushed himself up and reached for his shorts. Once he was dressed, he joined her on the bank, dipping his feet into the water. Then he noticed the pensive look on her face.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her reply came too quickly and he recognized it as a lie. Unfortunately he knew what was bothering her. It was the same thing that occupied his thoughts 24/7. He longed to pull her into his arms and promise her everything would be okay, but he couldn’t say those words. Not yet.

  “So we’re good?” she asked at last. “The past is dead and buried?”

  “No.” The word came out unbidden, without thought. “Not all of it.” As he spoke, he realized there was still one more conversation to have. It was time to lay all the past hurts to rest.

  “What’s left?”

  “I need to go see my dad. Will you come with me?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tucker stood beside the hospital bed, watching his father as he slept. His dad had been placed in the psychiatric ward once they’d stitched up his wound. Lela stood near the doorway, trying to give Tucker privacy. He appreciated her willingness to come with him. This conversation was going to be tough.

  He struggled to make this version of his dad match the one that had haunted his nightmares for so long. The bandaged man in the bed looked tired, weak, old. The dad he’d grown up with had been a bear of a man, a bully who’d used his size and booming voice to intimidate anyone who dared to cross him.

  Tucker glanced at Lela. She gave him an encouraging smile.

  Bending forward, he quietly said, “Dad.”

  His father’s eyes opened slowly, blinking rapidly against the bright sun shining through the window.

  “Tucker?”

  “Yeah. It’s me.”

  The old man looked confused for a moment before an all-too-familiar scowl appeared. “What are you doing here?”

  Tucker fought to remain calm, though he was sorely tempted to simply walk out of the room. Suddenly, this visit was starting to feel like a big mistake. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Dad scoffed. “Bet you’re sorry my hand slipped.”

  The anger lacing the hate-filled comment sliced Tucker like a knife. “No. I’m not.”

  His response seemed to catch his dad off-guard. The old man recovered quickly. “Come to see if I’m crazy? If I’ve gone off the deep end? Did that asshole doctor call you to come have me committed? I’m not going to the fucking loony bin.”

  “The doctor didn’t call me.”

  His father fell silent. Tucker could see how much even this short conversation was zapping the man’s strength. His dad’s eyes appeared heavy and he struggled to hold them open.

  Dad had been in the hospital several days, and according to the doctor, they had him sedated to counteract the effects of his withdrawals from alcohol. His dad was facing some rough times.

  “Where’s Wanda
?” Tucker asked. He’d been curious about the woman his father was currently living with.

  “Left me. Said she was tired of all my drama. Stupid bitch.”

  Tucker’s respect for Wanda rose. He would have called his father to task for his rude comment, but his words were becoming more slurred, his eyes closing more often. It was clear nothing was going to come from this visit. His dad was too out of it and there was too much bad blood between them. Tucker was certain they’d never be able to have a conversation that didn’t consist of malice, blame and distrust.

  Maybe it was time to cut his losses.

  “I can see you’re tired. I’ll let you sleep.”

  Tucker was halfway to the door when his father’s voice stopped him. “I know you blame me for your mom’s death, Tucker.”

  Tucker wasn’t sure how to respond. His father suddenly seemed more alert and the hard edge to his face had softened. Tucker longed to rail at the man, to curse him and the injustice. His mom hadn’t deserved to die.

  Before he could say anything, his father spoke again. “I blame me too. It was my fault. I haven’t slept a peaceful night since she died. I wish I’d been the one killed in that crash. That I could go back and change that night. I wish it more than you’ll ever know.”

  The remorseful look on his father’s face was foreign to him.

  “You can’t change it. None of it.” Tucker could hear the impassiveness in his voice, surprised by how little emotion this conversation was provoking. He’d been prepared for anger. God knew there had been enough of that running through Tucker since the night of the accident, maybe even before then. He’d spent the better part of his childhood as a punching bag for his dear old dad.

  Yet now, as he looked at the broken man in the bed, he couldn’t summon any emotion stronger than pity. Maybe it was because the man lying in this bed wasn’t his father. Not really.

  That honor fell to Coach. He’d been the man who’d tried to teach Tucker the difference between right and wrong, who had encouraged him to get good grades, had helped him shape his future and been there when his mother died.

  “None of it matters anymore, Dad.”

  His dad shrugged, his eyes slowly closing once more, his words little more than a mumble. “I still wanted you to know.”

  Tucker watched his father give in to sleep. Then he grasped Lela’s hand and they left.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. I am.” As he said the words, he realized he meant them. “I used to worry about becoming like my father.”

  She stopped walking to look at him. “What? No way. You’ll never be like him.”

  He grinned and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s not completely unheard of. Children of abusive parents following the pattern.”

  “You’re a good man, Tucker.”

  He appreciated her defense of him. “He’s going to drink himself into an early death and die alone, isn’t he? There won’t be anyone around who gives a shit.”

  Lela tried to counteract the truth of his words. “Maybe he can shake free of the alcohol. There’s always a chance—”

  “No. Don’t. Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend he can change. That hope, that belief in a fairytale ending is what kept my mother hanging on. I think it’s better to accept the reality. That man has been an addict for over thirty years. If he wanted to change, he would have done it by now.”

  “If I concede to that, will you accept what I said as true? You’re not like him, Tuck. Not by a long shot.”

  He chuckled. “So it’s a draw? We’re both right?”

  She nodded, her pleased grin causing his cock to twitch. Jesus. He was starting to accept he’d never get enough of her.

  Satisfied with his concession, she started walking once more.

  However, Tucker couldn’t shake the feeling he’d only just broken free of his father’s fate. He had been following in his dad’s footsteps in other ways, holding people at arm’s length since leaving Quinn. His mother’s death had broken something in him. Something he hadn’t realized was missing until he’d returned to Quinn and experienced it again.

  He’d eschewed friendships—never bothering to form the close camaraderie with his current teammates that he’d shared with his high school buddies.

  He’d convinced himself he didn’t need a family, but talking to Coach again, feeling that same protective brotherly instinct emerge whenever he was around Lorelie, proved he did need it. Not only that. He longed for it.

  Finally…love. He’d chalked it up as a weak emotion, unnecessary. He had fooled himself into thinking sex was a much neater, easier arrangement because it wasn’t messy or painful or long-term. Sex didn’t require a commitment, didn’t force him to reveal parts of himself he was ashamed of.

  Lela had shown him exactly how stupid that idea had been. After years of hiding his true nature, she’d allowed him to be the man he was, flaws and all, without judgment. She loved him. Unconditionally.

  And suddenly, just like that, the obvious answer appeared.

  “Want to go back to my place?” Lela asked as they reached the car.

  He shook his head. “Nope. Call your girlfriends. Get a group together. I want to take my girl out. Show her off.”

  Lela laughed until she realized he was serious. “Really?”

  “Tell them to meet us at Pitchers.”

  Lela leaned back in the booth and enjoyed the warmth provided by the wine and Tucker’s scandalously close proximity.

  She hadn’t realized how unhappy he’d been until now, when he was completely, unabashedly joyful. His good humor was infectious, drawing people over to talk to him, to ask for autographs and photos. Even now, he was signing a cocktail napkin for the waitress’s ten-year-old son.

  She hadn’t seen Tucker in “star” mode since his return home. While he’d been back in Quinn for three weeks, it was obvious the hometown people had picked up on his aloof mood and kept their distance. It was one of the things Lela loved about this small town. Folks were good at reading each other and they respected limits.

  Tonight, Tucker was open and laughing. He’d spent several minutes talking football with a bunch of guys by the bar. He’d promised Gladys Lacey a signed football for her grandson and politely turned down at least seven invitations to dance, claiming he was saving all his dances for his girl.

  Lela liked to think she wasn’t as immature as some giddy schoolgirl, but she felt herself flush every time he referred to her as “his”. What would she give to hold on to that position permanently?

  He’d thrown her for a loop earlier when he’d discussed the seriousness of his injuries. While he seemed fine, carefree and happy, she understood the turmoil he was suffering.

  What would she say if he told her he was returning to the team? How could she watch him walk away knowing he might not return the same…or return at all?

  She wished she could share the same cheerfulness he was feeling. She was trying to put on her game face, to hide her concerns. Lela wouldn’t dim Tucker’s happiness for anything in the world. Especially considering she’d seen him laugh more tonight than he had during his entire visit home.

  While she’d been calling their friends to invite them out, Tucker had phoned his accountant and made sure all of his dad’s hospital bills were covered. Tucker genuinely seemed to have turned some corner tonight and she was happy for him.

  But she couldn’t shake loose of the fear, the sense of helplessness. He hadn’t been home long. Did she really have the right to make any demands of him? To plead with him not to risk his life for a game?

  Tucker jerked her from her thoughts as he reached for her hand. “Dance with me.”

  A fast-paced song was starting. “To this?”

  He nodded. “My Texas two-step is a little rusty.”

  She laughed. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

  They hurried to the floor and joined the throng of dancers, Tucke
r holding her tightly, spinning her so fast her head spun as Sara Evans sang about the Suds in the Bucket. He was strong enough to lead her through the steps, leaving Lela to merely hang on for dear life.

  “You’re a liar,” she said loudly, her words coming out breathlessly.

  He gave her a quizzical look.

  “You’re not rusty at all.”

  Tucker laughed and she practically went airborne on the next twirl. Fortunately, Tucker didn’t release her immediately as the song ended and a slow George Strait ballad started. Instead, he held her tight to his chest, letting her catch her breath, helping hold her up as her dizziness faded.

  She lifted her face as the final strains of I Cross My Heart played. Lela decided right then and there, she and Tucker had “a song” when he leaned closer and kissed her. Time ceased to exist as they continued swaying on the dance floor, even as a faster song began.

  She vaguely recognized the sound of laughter, of people glancing their way, but Tucker didn’t seek to end the dance. Or the kiss. Or the roaming of his hands when they drifted down her back to cup her ass.

  Once they parted, Tucker winked. “Good thing Principal Whitacre isn’t here. He’d nail us for PDA.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I think you’d have more to worry about from my dad than just a little after-school detention if he was watching us right now.”

  Tucker sobered up. “Oh damn. Did I fuck things up with your folks when I left? I always thought they liked me back in high school.”

  “My parents like you just fine. In fact, my mom has been after me to invite you for Sunday dinner ever since she heard you were back in town.”

  Tucker chuckled. “Dinner with the folks, huh?” He flashed her a horrified look intended to make her laugh, which she did, even though she couldn’t help but notice he’d managed to dodge the invitation.

  Maybe he didn’t intend to be in Quinn many more Sundays.

  “Hey, Tucker.”

  They both looked over to see Wade standing by the pool table, waving. “I need a partner for this next game.”

  Tucker gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then walked over to play.

  Lela returned to their table to join Lorelie, who was sitting alone. None of the other girls had been able to make it out on such short notice. Lela followed Lorelie’s gaze and noticed Oakley, Joel and Sadie in what looked like a heated dispute across the room. “What do you think that’s about?”