Run With My Heart (Texas Tornadoes Sports Romance Book 1)

by Lorana Hoopes

  But, it was no use living in the past. His mother was gone, and life was what it was. What he needed to do now was to focus on the present. Get to practice. Finish his time at the center. Win the championship. Give his anger to God?

  Shelby’s words from yesterday floated through his mind again. Could God really take his anger away? It had seemed to lessen after he prayed, so could there be something to it? Could He help Tucker forgive his father? He supposed it was possible, but he didn’t have the time to think more about it right now. Right now, he had to focus on getting to practice before he got benched for the rest of the season.

  13

  “Excuse me, but when is this clinic going to start?” A woman bouncing a baby in her arms asked from the front row. The scowl on her face matched several others throughout the crowd.

  Shelby stared out at the sea of faces filling the gym. She should be happy to see this many people here. And she was. Except there was one face missing. The face that really needed to be here. Tucker’s. Where was he?

  She’d called him half an hour ago when he missed the set-up time and then again ten minutes ago when the families began arriving, but she’d gotten his voicemail both times. She’d let him have the morning off to prepare, but surely he hadn’t forgotten or flaked on her. She’d been under the impression he was at least a man of his word.

  “Sorry I’m late.” His loud voice quieted the din momentarily, and then the kids went crazy when they realized who it was. He crossed the room to Shelby’s side and whispered the apology again in her ear. “I’m so sorry.”

  A tingle shot down her spine as his breath tickled her ear. “You know, even volunteers are supposed to show up on time.” Shelby kept her voice low, but she arched her left eyebrow as she waited for whatever lame excuse he was going to throw at her.

  His mouth pinched into a tight line. “Yeah, I know, practice ran long even though it was supposed to end early.”

  “I get that, Tucker, but these kids depend on us. When we say we are going to do something, we have to follow through.”

  “I know,” he said. “I do, and I brought some new balls to make up for it.” He held up a bag. “Now, how do you want me to get this started today?”

  She wasn’t really done reading him the riot act, but she supposed she should show a little grace since he had brought balls and a ton of new kids into the center. “I’ll introduce you, and you can take it from there. Sound good?”

  He nodded, and Shelby held out her hand to quiet the room again. “Are you guys excited?” she asked.

  “Yes!” The yells of the room nearly pushed her back. They were definitely excited.

  “Did you bring something for Tucker to sign? If you did, hold it up.”

  Around the open area, arms popped up with footballs, t-shirts, and other items clutched in their hands.

  “All right, you guys look ready, so I’m going to turn this over to Tucker Jackson of the Texas Tornadoes.”

  More yelling and clapping raised the decibels another level, and Shelby felt like she was back at the one rock concert she had attended in college. It had been Kenzi’s idea. Concerts weren’t really Shelby’s thing, and, after nearly losing her hearing for a day following the noise fest, she had never attended another one.

  She watched for a moment as Tucker introduced himself, hoping he was a decent speaker. Her fears proved unfounded though as he held the room’s attention even as he began explaining how the clinic would go. Inch by inch, Shelby backed up until she felt she was far enough back to not be a distraction, and then she turned and walked back to the office.

  With a sigh, she sat down at the small desk and pulled out the few cards they had on donors. She didn’t like using Tucker’s name, but maybe if she mentioned he was here for the rest of the month, they might be more willing to donate.

  The first name on the list was Lydia Benson. Lydia had been a local designer before her business took off and she moved to New York. She would probably be too busy — that’s the excuse she had used last year and the year before — but Shelby had to try. Maybe reminding the woman of her roots and of the tax break that a donation provided might help.

  “Lydia’s Designs, how can I help you?”

  Shelby didn’t recognize the nasally, professional voice on the other end of the phone, but she knew it wasn’t Lydia herself. The woman had always had a lilt to her voice that oozed high society even before she joined their ranks. “Yes, is Lydia available? This is Shelby Doll.”

  “Shelby Doll?” The voice paused as if searching her memory or a computer. “Are you a designer?”

  “Uh, no. I run the community center in Southlake, Texas, Lydia’s hometown.”

  “Oh.” Immediately, the tone of the voice on the other end shifted. The polite professionalism was replaced with bored impatience. “I’m sorry. She’s very busy right now with her new line. You can give me your number, and I’ll make sure she gets the message.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Shelby doubted her number would ever cross Lydia’s desk. One down and only three to go. What would she do if she received the same response from the rest of them? She closed her eyes and issued a prayer.

  The next name was Dr. Bill Gaines. He probably wouldn’t be able to come to the phone either. As the prominent surgeon in Southlake, he was usually either in surgery or golfing. However, he’d grown up in the center, so she knew he had a soft spot for it. She dialed the number on the card and held her breath.

  “Surgical Institute of Southlake, how may I direct your call?”

  “Hi, this is Shelby Doll with the community center. I was hoping I might speak with Dr. Gaines.”

  “I’m sorry Dr. Gaines is in surgery. Would you like to leave a message?”

  Shelby didn’t want to leave a message. Messages could be ignored, avoided, forgotten. She wanted to speak to a live body, to work her persuasive magic, but she was striking out today. “Yes, thank you. I’ll leave a message.” Perhaps, she could be charming enough on his machine that he would return her call or at least be open to speaking to her when she called again.

  Shelby twirled the blonde strand of hair that always escaped her updo as she listened to his voicemail. When she heard the beep, she sat straighter in her chair and smiled brightly. She’d felt silly in college when they’d had to practice smiling on phone calls. No one could even see her, but after listening back to the calls they had recorded, she’d had to agree that a smile came through the phone in the brightness of the tone. And every salesperson knew that a friendly tone was half the battle of getting a sale. Or in her case, a donation.

  “Hello, Dr. Gaines, this is Shelby Doll from the Southlake Community Center. I know you are very busy, but I also know this center was a large part of your life growing up. We are looking for donations for our annual Christmas party, and I know the kids would love to see your name on the sign. You are such an inspiration to them, and remember that every donation is tax deductible. Please give me a call at 555-7663 so we can deliver some cheer to the youth of Southlake.”

  She let her smile fade as she hung up the phone. Just two names left. Could she manage to get one of them on the line, or was she going to have to go out knocking on doors again tomorrow to find new donors?

  “Lord, please,” she prayed softly as she picked up the next card. “We need a miracle.”

  * * *

  Tucker stared at his reflection in the cloudy mirror and sighed. He looked exhausted and he’d only been here a few hours. He was enjoying teaching the kids, but, while he still had the signing to do, he’d needed a break from the noise for a minute. He understood now why people worked with kids. There was something rewarding in their smiles, their energy; but he did not understand how people dealt with the noise. The kids seemed to have never heard of volume control, and they would ask questions on top of each other. Did they really think he couldn’t hear them when he was only five feet away? And why didn’t their parents intercede? Most of them were in the room, congregating against the wall
and on their phones, but in the room.

  Perhaps the phones were the problem. He knew some of them were recording their child participating in the clinic, but the others? Some of them never even looked up as their kid caught the ball and ran the routes he had taught them. It made him wonder if the kids were just as invisible at home, and the thought tugged on his heart. That he could definitely relate to.

  He splashed cold water on his face and made a mental note to bring Tylenol if they ever did this type of event again. The pounding in his head didn’t appear to be subsiding any time soon. He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and sighed when he realized it was the last one. He’d have to ask Shelby to replace it. Or maybe Kenzi. She’d been helping him out with wrangling the kids.

  He tossed the paper towel in the trash and exited the bathroom, but before he reached the gym, the sound of muffled voices reached his ears. He turned the corner to see a beefy, muscular kid poking a boy in a wheelchair. The boy in the wheelchair, Benji, was a regular, but he didn’t recognize the other boy. He strained to hear the conversation, but the words were too soft to hear. However, the body language was easy to read.

  “Hey, what are you two doing out here? You’re supposed to be in the main gym.”

  The beefy kid turned to face him. An insincere expression of apology masked his face, and Tucker knew he was about to get fed a story. “Sorry, we got lost looking for his book, right, Benji?” He looked back at Benji as if daring him to contradict the story.

  Benji’s eyes dropped to his lap, and his shoulders stooped as if weighed down with defeat. He was probably used to getting bullied. “Yeah, I think I dropped it somewhere and Colson here was helping me look for it.”

  Tucker had no doubt that was the furthest thing from the truth, but it was clear from Benji’s reaction that he didn’t want to disobey Colson. Tucker had seen enough bullies in action to know that’s what was going on here, and he was not going to let it continue. Benji was a great kid, one of his favorites, but he needed to know the details before he took any further action.

  “Okay, well I’ll help Benji find his book. You go on and head back to the gym, Colson. You can tell them I’ll be right there.”

  Colson opened his mouth as if to object. His eyes shifted from Tucker to Benji, clearly trying to decide if Benji would rat him out once he was gone.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell everyone how helpful you were,” Tucker said.

  Colson closed his mouth, and after another long stare at Benji, he headed back toward the gym.

  Tucker waited until he was sure Colson was out of earshot before approaching Benji. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

  Benji rubbed his hand across his neck before folding it in his lap again. “Just what we said. I lost my book. Colson was helping me look for it.”

  Tucker knelt down in front of the boy. “Benji, I know that isn’t the truth. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I could tell from his posture and your reaction that he was being aggressive. Now, I want to help you, but I can’t do that unless I know what’s going on.”

  Benji’s bottom lip folded under, and unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “He told me that my father left because I was a cripple, that no father wants half a son.”

  Tucker clenched his jaw to keep the anger boiling within him from spilling over. He would save it for Colson and chew the kid’s ear off, but this boy needed compassion. After taking a deep breath to calm his words, Tucker touched Benji’s arm. “First of all, Colson was wrong. I don’t know why your father left, but I’m sure it had nothing to do with you.”

  Benji shrugged and sniffed back the tears Tucker was sure were pressing against his eyes.

  “Look, do you think I’m the type of son a father would want, at least according to Colson?”

  “Of course.” Benji’s lips split into a wide smile. “You’re a pro-football player, and I’ll never be that. What kind of dad wouldn’t want a pro-football player as a son?”

  “Mine.” As soon as Tucker uttered the word, he realized how profoundly his father’s lack of engagement had affected him. “See, my mom died when I was about your age, and my dad disconnected. Threw himself into work. Do you know he’s never even seen one of my games in person? I don’t even know if he watches them on TV.”

  Benji’s mouth fell open. “Seriously? But...but you’re Tucker Jackson.”

  Tucker chuckled. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter to my dad. Sometimes dads just mess up. They aren’t perfect either.” He paused as he realized how true that was and how misplaced his anger at his father had been. Shelby was right. “I think I thought my father’s avoidance was because he no longer loved me, but talking with you, I realize that he is just human. He’s been dealing with his own pain, and my pain was just an unfortunate consequence of that.”

  “So, my dad might have left even if I wasn’t different?”

  The raw hope in Benji’s voice tugged at Tucker’s heart, and he nodded. “I’m certain that your father left because of his own issues and not because of you.” Tucker felt that was the truth. Even if Benji’s father had left because of his handicap, that action showed that he had some deeper issue he was dealing with or perhaps unable to deal with.

  “Thank you, Mr. Jackson. I think I can go back now.”

  “You’re welcome, and you can call me Tucker, Benji. All my friends do.”

  Benji smiled so brightly that even the corners of the room appeared to light up, and warmth flooded Tucker’s heart. This was almost better than winning football games and hearing the crowd going wild. Maybe he could see why Shelby worked a job like this, even with the noise. Shelby. He would need to tell her she was right and talk to her about how to handle Colson, but he had to finish this clinic first.

  “Okay, guys,” he said, stepping back into the crowd. “Did you guys all have fun?” The answer was a resounding roar of voices and clapping of hands. “Great, I’m so glad. I have some time to sign autographs before we wrap up for the night. If you’ll form a single line, I’ll sign whatever you brought.”

  He wasn’t sure the kids would be able to handle the directions, but thankfully Kenzi helped herd them into something resembling a line while he took his place at the table. One at a time, he signed footballs, shirts, books, stickers — whatever was passed across the table to him — until all the kids were taken care of. With the last item signed and the kids packing up and leaving, he shook out his cramping hand and looked around for Shelby.

  There was still no sign of her, but he saw Kenzi speaking to a woman at the front door. Perhaps this would be a good time to find Shelby and tell her about the incident with Colson and Benji. He saw neither boy in the few who remained.

  Tucker wandered over to the reception area and was about to rap lightly on the doorframe when he heard Shelby’s voice from inside.

  “Please, Mr. Renfrow, if you could just tell me why. Maybe it’s something we can remedy.”

  Renfrow? Why did that name sound familiar?

  He waited a moment longer for her to finish the call. It felt like eavesdropping though that wasn’t his intent. When he heard Shelby sigh, he figured she had hung up with whomever had been on the other end, and he poked his head in the doorway. “Hey, you got a minute?”

  “What is it?” There was a note of defeat in her voice that he hadn’t heard before, and he wondered if it was due to the phone call.

  He leaned against the doorframe, keeping a professional distance between them even though he wanted to touch her. “I just wanted to tell you the boy’s bathroom is out of paper towels and get some feedback on how to deal with a bullying situation. If you’re busy though, we can discuss it tomorrow.”

  She let out another sigh which sounded as if it carried the weight of the world on its shoulders. “No, it’s fine. I need a break from calling donors anyway.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but was that a donor on the phone just now?”

  “Yeah. Jude Renfrow. He’s a loca
l investor who donated for the Christmas party last year. I thought he was on board this year, but now he says some recent event has changed his mind.”

  Jude Renfrow. Suddenly, Tucker knew why that name sounded familiar, but he forced his face to remain impassive. The last thing he needed was Shelby knowing that Jude’s sudden change of heart was his fault.

  “Anyway, that’s not your burden,” Shelby said with a wave of her hand. “Tell me about this bullying incident.”

  Tucker relayed the incident to her and watched as her face shifted from concern to anger and then back to its professional demeanor. He could tell that she tried not to dislike any of the kids in the center, but she definitely did not like bullying behavior.

  “I think I made Benji feel better,” Tucker continued, “but I’m not sure what to do next.”

  Shelby crossed to the file cabinet and pulled out Colson’s file. She flipped it open. “There isn’t much on him; he’s never been a regular, just drops in once in a while. To be honest, he’s probably only here now because of you, but we need to document it. If it continues,” she opened a different drawer and pulled out a documentation form, “I’ll have to reach out to his parents. If he shows up tomorrow, let’s try to keep them separated and definitely make sure Benji is never alone with him. I’ll tell Kenzi to keep an eye out too.” She handed him the form.

  He took it and began filling out the report. “The event went well. Do you think you earned enough money?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so, but I’m afraid we still won’t have enough for the party. I hate not being able to do that for the kids.”

  “How about you let me take care of that?” Tucker asked as he finished filling out the form and passed it back to her. “I’ll come in early tomorrow and we can discuss what you need, and I’ll take care of the funding.”

  Shelby’s brow furrowed with questions. “Why would you do that? I thought this was just community service for you.”