Page 21

TUCKER

I t had been a fucking week.

Josh had been sleeping across from me every night—and he hadn’t said a word.

Arlo had managed to get him out into the garage to work on his car. They’d switched a few parts out and thrifted a few more. The car would run, for now, but not for long. Josh had taken our deal seriously, slipping into cooking dinner with surprising ease. We actually ate better than usual; it was a surprise that someone who’d grown up eating canned pasta and boxed soup knew how to cook better than half the guys in the house.

But that was just my privilege showing again. We didn’t know how to cook because we never did it for ourselves until Lorraine had taught us how…

Logan knew how to cook out of survival.

It only made me feel more guilty for the shit I’d said to him.

And the fact that, no matter what he set on the dinner table every night, it all made my stomach churn with disgust. There wasn’t room to eat when stress was consuming me whole. Josh took offence every single time; it was written all over his face.

The preseason game was today–the first of a very long, rough season if Josh decided that what I’d done last weekend was completely unforgivable. I snuck out of bed in the dark and changed into a clean sweater, pulling it over my shoulders as I left the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

I wandered into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe—Ella and Arlo were already there. Arlo’s arms were wrapped around her with his head on her shoulder, whispering something as she tried to make a pot of coffee.

“Don’t you want someone to celebrate with when we win—or go home to when we lose?”

I could hear Cael in the back of my head, clawing around in my thoughts and reminding me at every turn that I deserved better, but I didn't know how to take it or earn it without blowing up my life.

“Tucker,” Arlo’s voice grumbled, and my eyes focused back on the kitchen. “It’s early. You look like you're sleepwalking.”

“I’m awake,” I said, stepping forward and sliding onto a stool. “Just wound up about today, I guess,” I offered, because it was that, but it was also a mixture of things I could and couldn’t control.

“It’s just Philly,” he said. “Worst team in the league. You could beat them with your eyes closed.” Ella nodded her agreement as she started the coffee machine.

“We can’t beat them without you,” I argued.

“That’s nonsense, and you don’t have to stroke his ego anymore; he’s not your captain.” Ella kissed Arlo’s cheek when he scowled. "You proved how good you are over the last three weeks. Even Coach said you came back a different team. Cael’s shoulder is loose, the guys are excited to play…”

“Logan is ready to pitch,” Arlo added. “We made sure of it.”

It wasn’t the team or the game I was worried about. The look on Ella’s face told me she knew that but Arlo, that grouchy oblivious asshole, remained blissfully unaware. The only blessing of the evening would be that my parents would be absent. They were on a trip visiting Anna, and it meant that I could find my groove without them looming over my shoulder.

It gave me a chance to breathe the stadium air without choking on my mother’s judgment.

Arlo tapped the counter with a finger, his eyes roaming quickly over the two of us before straightening out. "I'm going to go for my run.”

He leaned over and kissed Ella, his big hands squeezing her cheeks tightly before he took off through the back door. Ella turned back to me and narrowed her eyes.

“Now that the brick wall’s gone—what’s really going on?”

I shook my head and laughed gently. "You’re more observant than Riona, and it’s annoying. I hope you know that.”

“I do. She and I have had conversations about it.” Ella smiled at me. “Now spill,” she insisted.

“It’s Logan,” I said quietly. "He’s messing with my head.”

“He seems to be getting along with the guys; he’s been cooking dinner with Todd and Jensen all week without issues,” she pointed out.

"Jensen could make anyone get along," I mumbled, "it's that insufferable charm."

"But you’re withholding information.” Ella said, and ignored my whining.

“The Josh everyone knows—it’s all a show,” I said. “He acts like some egotistical showboat; loud, cocky…came from upper class but…”

Ella scoffed.

“What?” I said.

I was confused more than ever.

“He doesn’t hide it, Dean,” she said. “His cleats are from three seasons ago—they’re the Nike series that was put out when the Braves won. His glove is even older. He cuts his own hair, and he eats every bit of food you put in front of him, even if he doesn’t like it. He also flinches when you walk by him too fast, hates to be touched so much that he’s willing to fight Cael about it, and…” She paused, lowering her voice but never breaking eye contact. “I’m pretty sure the smell of smoke gives him panic attacks,” she said.

“How do you…” I slumped against the counter.

“Oh, wow, okay.” She sighed, and I could see her working out a way to explain things to me. “Uh… Have any of you ever asked Van where he grew up?” She asked, and I just shook my head. What did Van have to do with any of this? “He and his sisters grew up in the trailer park behind Zoey’s house. I know a homegrown haircut when I see one.”

“Really?”

The conversation had never been brought up by us or him; we all just knew he had a good family. But it also tracked that all three siblings were pursuing careers that gave back. The Mitchells were selfless and kind; it was a coveted trait, and they never failed to prove how big their hearts were. Trailer park or not, it was nothing like what I’d seen from Josh’s mom that day. They were still two very different versions of low income.

“I see the gears turning,” she said, walking around the island to stand closer to me. “You didn’t do anything wrong by not noticing, but you’ll do him a disservice if you keep being ignorant of who he is. He didn’t grow up with puppies on Christmas and family vacations to Disney.”

“Right.” I nodded. “I think maybe we should get him in to see Riona, it might help him with the anger,” I suggested. “And I’ll stop trying to impress him with generosity…”

“Now you’re thinking with that beautiful brain of yours.” She smiled up at me. Ella was the only one who never resorted to treating me like an idiot. She was the sister I never had, and I didn’t say it enough, but I was grateful for her patience.

“We don’t deserve you, El.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, and scrunched her face up at me before moving back around the counter and pouring coffee. "Impress him?” She asked, passing me a mug. “How did we go from acclimating him to impressing him?”

“I barely noticed that he was struggling,” I said. "Don’t ask such complicated questions.”

Ella laughed. "Alright, alright. Something has to have happened to soften you up a little–or him. What changed?”

I thought about her question. What had changed between us that made it feel like I wanted to do things for him but not to spite him? I had never hated Josh, not really. There weren't many people I did hate. I couldn’t even figure out how to hate my own mother for all the mean things she’s said around me and to me.

But I had reasons I should hate Josh. He was terrible for the team morale; we’ve always been at each other's throats, he refused to get along with anyone, and he liked to keep secrets.

He wasn’t keeping secrets. He was protecting himself.

Just like me.

“Common ground,” I whispered, and Ella waited for me to figure it out. “We both had a secret that we didn’t… don’t… want to share because of how it’ll affect our lives. How we’ll look to the people in our lives.”

“That’s good,” she said. “Dean, just be yourself and show Josh that it’s okay to have secrets as long as he has people he feels comfortable sharing them with.”

“Do you wanna do something with me today?” I asked her, suddenly having an idea. “I have to stop by the stadium and then go into Lorette.”

“Sure.” She set her coffee down and eyed me carefully. "Let me get dressed?”

“I’ll swing by the stadium and come back up in thirty. Does that work?” I asked her, and she nodded as I backed away from the island.

I grabbed a hat and took the road down to the stadium. It was early, but Susanna would be around to help me with what I needed. I swung by the small coffee shop on campus and grabbed some sweets before hitting up the stadium. The parking lot was dead except for her car and Coach’s truck, so I parked close and used my card to get into the building.

“Dean Tucker,” she waddled up to the desk with a smile on her face as I handed her the box along with a warm coffee. “Now, there has to be a reason behind this.” She smiled at the pastries.

“I need your help with something,” I said to her, her smile growing wider as she let me behind the desk to sit with her. We talked for almost twenty minutes and she wrote everything down; on a mission to get it all done before the game today.

“I also need the key to the shop.” I smiled and she eyed me dubiously, but dug it out regardless. “I promise to leave some money in the register.” I waved them at her and ran through the building.

I despised being in the stadium this early; the quiet ate away at me, and the brick felt cold and suffocating when there weren't a thousand voices causing it to vibrate. I grabbed what I needed from the shop and, by the time I returned to Susanna, she had printed out what I needed and was working on the next step of our plan.

“You’re a goddess,” I whispered to her, taking the envelope with a smile.

Ella was waiting on the steps in her hoodie and jeans when I returned, and it didn’t take me long to fill her in on the plan as we drove into Lorette. It was still early, but we stopped at the grocery store and loaded up a cart with food that I put on my credit card without remorse. I would deal with those consequences later.

I could feel her get nervous as we drove into the rougher area of town, but the streets were pretty quiet as I pulled up to the apartment building. “You can stay here, if you want,” I told her, but she shook her head, leaning over the seat to grab a few of the bags from the back.

Balancing a few more with the bag from the Hornets gift shop, I pressed the buzzer with my elbow and hoped that someone was home. The old man's grumpy voice came over the staticky intercom.

“I told you kids to stop pressing that button,” he grumbled.

“Uh, Mark,” I said, “it’s… Dean Tucker. I was here the other day with Josh,” I said, turning to Ella with a nervous expression, unsure if he’d remember me, but the door buzzed loudly and clicked open for us.

I led Ella down the hallway to where Mark was waiting with his door open.

“Where’s Josh?” He asked, looking at me and then Ella.

“He had morning practice, but I wanted to bring over something from him,” I answered, holding up the bags.

“It’s from Josh?” He eyed me and I nodded. I couldn’t tell if he could see through my lie or not but, either way, I would try.

“He picked it all out himself. It was very cute.” Ella smiled and peeked her head out from behind my shoulder. “I’m Ella, the team's physical therapist.”

She tried to extend a hand but fumbled with the bags, making Mark chuckle. “You let this angel carry all those bags herself? Shame on you,” Mark scolded me playfully and took a few of the bags from Ella, who shrugged and grinned at me.

“Hear that? I’m an angel.” She winked in passing as Mark allowed us into his small apartment. The space was much cleaner and organized. It was warm and full of little things that Mark had obviously collected over the years. Weird art, a mix of mismatched furniture, but it felt like a home.

“There’s a lot more than just a jersey here, Mr. Tucker.” Mark set the bags on the cracked vinyl counter and turned to me.

“There is.” I nodded at him. "I also have…” I dug out the envelope from my back pocket and handed it to him. “Tickets for today's game, above the dugout, if you want—”

“For me?” He cut me off and took the envelope with shaky hands. All of his knuckles were swollen and scarred from what was, without doubt, a hard life. He carefully removed the tickets from the paper and smiled down at them. “You know Josh used to hit balls off the roof when his Mom wasn’t around? Broke a few windows that had to be explained away, but he’s always had a knack for the game.”

“He’s a damn good pitcher,” I agreed.

“I’ve listened to every Lorette game on that radio, but I’ve never seen him play,” he said, looking down at the tickets.

“Today’s your chance.” Ella smiled. “But you can’t be seen wearing red; Hornets’ law,” she teased, pointing to the gift shop bag.

Mark set down the tickets, eyeing the two of us, and pulled out a jersey stitched with Logan across the back in the perfect size. He then retrieved a beanie, a pair of socks, a few magnets, a signed baseball, and a navy blue sweater.

“You weren’t kidding about getting me out of the red!” Mark barked, his grin stretching wide. He tugged the jersey on, and it fit like a glove as he buttoned it up and straightened himself out.

“The navy is handsome,” Ella cooed and crossed her arms.

“This was very kind of you,” he said to me with a fading smile, but the sentiment was still there. “Most folks say they’ll do something and then forget—or just don’t make the time.”

“It was all Josh,” I said. "I’m just the messenger, and you didn’t hear it from me, but any game you want to be at, you’ve got a seat at the Hornet stadium, you just call me.”

Mark studied my expression, and I know he saw through the lie, but he didn’t say anything else on the matter. Ella stood by, proudly staring at me with a smile on her face and, even though Josh’s voice was in the back of my mind, telling me that I was wrong, or overstepping, I knew that I had extended what I could and done it in a way that helped everyone.

“Alright, back to Harbor. Coach is going to be pissed that I’m running errands instead of being at practice.” I clapped Mark on the shoulder and shooed Ella from the apartment.