“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?”
“I’m sorry I left you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I not only left you but hurt you in the process.” He pauses. “You were right. About everything. I thought you were too good to be true. I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, even playing professional soccer, but I didn’t think I deserved you. I tried to hurt you when I left so there’d be no chance of you taking me back.”
“Tucker.”
He closes his eyes and scrunches them shut, then exhales as he opens them to stare into my face. “I know I don’t deserve you now, and I have no right to hope you’ll let me back in your life, but I want you to know leaving you will always be my biggest regret, and we both know I’ve made a shit-ton of mistakes.”
I swallow a sob building in my chest. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he’s telling me this.
“I’ve quit the team, and I’m coming back to Southern. I’ll take some classes this summer to make up for missing this semester, but I’m changing my major to secondary education, so I’ll need to go at least another year to take the classes I need.”
“You’re changing your major?”
“You were right. You’re right about everything. I want to teach high school history and coach soccer. Maybe work with some foster teens and help them make better choices than Marcel and I made. I’ve already talked to the counseling department here, and they’ll let me back in.”
“What about your soccer scholarship?”
“I lost it, but I’m glad, even if it means I’m going to be stuck with a ton of student loans. I’m thinking about joining a rec league so I’m playing just to have fun and there’s no pressure. Maybe I’ll love it again.”
He’s so good at soccer, I want him to love it again. “I suspect the teams will be fighting over you.”
“Maybe, but I need to get my grades back up first.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “I dropped algebra so I need to take another math class. I’ll have to take a statistics class, and I hoped maybe you’d tutor me.”
I’m trying to get the words out to tell him that I’ve missed him, and I want him back, but they’re stuck in my throat, tangled in my building tears.
“Scarlett, I have no right to ask you this, not after the way I’ve treated you, but I’m going to ask anyway.” He takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand as though he’s worried I’m about to bolt. “I’m miserable without you. I need you. I understand if you don’t trust me and you need me to earn back your trust. I understand if you need to go slow—”
“Tucker.”
He sounds desperate now. “Nothing makes sense without you. I love you, Scarlett. Please give me another chance.”
“I love you, too.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“I love you, too. I need you, too.”
“You… don’t you…”
“No. I don’t need time. I need you.”
He leans forward and wraps his arms around my back, kissing me and showing me how much he’s missed me. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy, Scarlett.”
I smile, still not believing this is happening. “You’re off to a great start.”
Epilogue
Butterflies fill my stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
“You are not going to throw up.” Tucker says in my ear, pressing his chest to my back and wrapping his arms around my stomach. “Take several deep breaths, close your eyes, and picture yourself walking into that FBI office for your internship, feeling confident and in control.”
His belief in me fills me with confidence. “I love you.”
He kisses my neck. “I love you, too. You’re going to blow them away. Now let’s get you some coffee before you go.”
We head to the kitchen, weaving through towers of boxes stacked everywhere.
Tucker pours coffee from his coffee maker into my travel mug. He looks up with a grin. “I know it’s not the one-touch coffee maker you and Caroline shared, but I’m not shirking on my coffee-making duties yet.”
Grinning, I shake my head. “You’ve only been at this two days.”
“And I haven’t failed you yet.” He hands the mug to me. “Does Tina need help moving her things into Caroline’s apartment?”
Caroline’s apartment sounds strange. Home with Caroline these past three years has been more of a home to me than my mother’s ever was. “No, I think she’s good, although she may fake needing help, hoping some of your soccer buddies will show up and help.”
Tucker laughs. “We might be able to arrange something.”
“What about you? Are you nervous about your summer session at school? It’s your first day, too.”
“Nervous? Nah. Not with these classes. But I suspect I will be nervous when I start working with actual students next fall.”
“You’ll be great.” I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. “I’ll miss you today.”
“I’ll miss you, too. But later I’ll show you how much I missed you.”
I grin and realize Tucker has helped ease my anxiety. “Something to look forward to tonight.”
He smiles, love in his eyes. “We’ve only just started a lifetime of something to look forward tos.”
I like the sound of that.
Acknowledgments
First I’d like to thank the awesome Trisha Leigh who endured me saying “I think I want to write a new adult book.” for months until she finally said, “Will you just shut up and do it already?”
I love her.
They say write what you know, but I didn’t know anything about mathematic majors. Nor soccer. Thankfully, I found Jody Parker, a friend of a friend, who is a math major at a university in California. Thank goodness for her patience as I plied her with question after question. And many thanks to Peter Wilkinson who played soccer in college and offered valuable insight into Tucker’s team requirements during his off season.
Thank you to the readers who read AFTER MATH and gave me their valuable opinion. I can always count on the wonderful wisdom of Rhonda Cowsert. And Wendy Webb is always eager to fulfill her beta-reading duties.
I added some new beta readers this time. Thank you, thank you to Becky Podjenski, Emily Pearson, and Christie Timpson!
Thank you to Cynthia L. Moyer for jumping in and helping with copy editing as well as proofreading! I couldn’t have gotten this out on time without you!
And thanks to Kristen Yard for proofing so quickly even though you got the manuscript five days late. And also to Paola Bell for jumping in and proofing so quickly too!
Many, many thanks to Heather Smith, my assistant who keeps me organized (as best she can) and always has my back, even if it means rushing me to an airport to beat a snowstorm. I’m so glad you asked to make your temporary position permanent.
To my children—I’m sorry Mommy’s a workaholic, but thank you for understanding how important this is to me and supporting me, even when it means traveling a whole bunch. I love you guys.
About the Author
Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within in two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
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