Page 27 of Penance (Rising From the Ashes #2)

He jerks his head up off my shoulder and steps back. “You can’t tell, man. Please don’t tell. I promise I won’t leave her again. I’ll quit the team. Please just don’t tell.”

“Morgan—”

“No,” he begs. “You’re going to try to convince me that’s what’s best, but it’s not. I’m eighteen. I’m a legal adult—old enough to take care of her. They can’t do anything to me, but they’ll take her away.”

His whole body trembles with desperation. That little girl in there isn’t his daughter, but she might as well be. I can see it in his eyes.

“You’re not quitting—”

“I will. I swear—”

I hold my hand up, stopping him.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re not quitting, and I won’t tell anyone. But I have some stipulations behind that.”

I could lose my job for this. I’m a mandatory reporter, but I won’t separate him from her, not when I know what that feels like .

“Anything,” he says, agreeing before he knows my requirements.

“First, you stay on the team, and if you can’t find anyone reliable—or you can’t afford it—you bring her to games or practices. Someone can watch her there for you.”

“Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”

“You haven’t heard my other stipulations,” I say.

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

I watch him a minute, trying to convince myself I’m doing the right thing for these kids. “You have to work on that anger that’s eating you up inside. Talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be, but it has to be someone. It’s going to eat you alive if you don’t. I need you to trust me on that. Okay?”

He meets my gaze. “Okay.”

“One more thing—”

Morgan groans, but he doesn’t argue.

“I don’t have to be the one you talk to, but I need you to check in with me—and be honest. If you need food, or money, or whatever—you tell me. No judgment. That’s my last stipulation.”

“We don’t need your pity,” he argues, but I shake my head.

“It’s not pity. It’s me being a good coach. We’re part of a team, and teams look out for each other.”

______________________

Tanner is already home by the time I make it back, and I’m equal parts relieved and tense as I get out of the truck.

I had my doubts about him coming home tonight.

I was afraid Josephine would convince him to go home with her, so seeing his truck in the driveway was a relief.

But having him come home is only part of the battle—and the small part at that.

We still have to talk.

Opening the front door, I kick off my tennis shoes and hang my hat on a rack. All the lights are off, so I head upstairs toward Tanner’s bedroom and knock lightly on the door.

“Tanner, are you still up?”

There’s a rustling on the other side, and then it swings open.

“I was about to go to bed.” There’s no emotion in his voice, but he at least leaves the door open.

I step into the doorway, leaning my shoulder against the frame. “I was hoping we could talk before you do.”

Tanner shrugs and picks up his phone. “Nothing to talk about.”

“Well, I disagree. So, can you put your phone down so we can talk?”

“Can it wait?” His thumbs fly over the screen, and a sense of déjà vu hits me in the gut. I might as well be a speck of dust in his atmosphere.

“No, Tanner, it can’t wait. Put the phone down.”

With a long, drawn-out sigh, he throws the phone on his bed and plops down, refusing to look my way. I shove my hand through my hair. This is going to be a very long conversation if it keeps up this way.

“Look,” I say, shoving off the door and walking further into the room.

There’s a desk along one of the walls I put together when he first came to live with me, but that’s the only personal thing in the room.

I’ve offered to take him shopping multiple times to make it his own, but each time, he’s declined.

I want him to see this place as his home, but based on everything, I don’t think he does.

“The first thing I want you to know is that I didn’t decide to coach because of Lily. I chose to coach because of you. ”

“We really don’t need to talk about this,” Tanner insists, but I can see it in his eyes that we do. Tanner and I might be different in a lot of ways, but we hide our pain the same—by shoving it in a box and locking it up—but anyone willing to look us in the eyes can see it.

“We do because I’ve made you feel like other things were more important than you too many times, and I never want you to feel like that again. I chose to coach for you, Tanner. No one else. ”

His gaze snaps to me. “Then why didn’t you tell me you are dating Ms. Carson? Did you think I would be mad? Because I’m not.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. Tanner is a good kid, and it hurts that I’ve had no hand in raising him that way. He figured out how to be a man all on his own.

There’s a baseball lying on his desk, and I pick it up, tossing it up in the air and catching it. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t know what we are. We’re—helping each other. Hanging out. That’s all.”

I’m telling him the truth—just not the full one.

All the way here, I thought about what I would tell him—if I should tell him that everything between Lily and me is fake—but that didn’t feel like the truth either.

I decided to stick to the truth of much as possible, and I defended that decision by convincing myself that sometimes parents don’t tell their kids everything to protect them.

Tanner doesn’t need to know the lengths I’ll go to to ensure he lives in a stable home.

All he needs to know is that I’ll fight.

“Okay,” he says, finally meeting my gaze, “but you’ll tell me if it’s something different. Something more. Right?”

I don’t look away when I tell him the whole truth this time. “I promise.”

Satisfied, he nods and picks up his phone, but I clear my throat. “One more thing. You had every right to be mad at me today, but you took it out on your team. They deserved better. You are better. I don’t want to see that again. Am I clear?”

The muscle in Tanner’s jaw twitches. “Crystal.”