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

by Lorana Hoopes

  “It was when I started, but these kids have grown on me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him. “You have grown on me.”

  Her eyes widened as she gazed up at him.

  “You were right, Shelby. I was angry because of my mother’s death, and I was angry that I thought my father didn’t love me either, but Benji helped me see that’s not the case. I’ve been praying when I feel the anger rise, and God’s been helping me. You’ve helped me. I didn’t want to say anything while I was still serving hours in case you didn’t feel the same, but I’d really like to take you out. Maybe tomorrow night after we close?”

  He could almost feel the pounding of her heart in the air, and a soft electric buzz seemed to surround them. “I’d like that,” she finally whispered.

  “Good.” His eyes traced the soft curve of her lips, and his breath caught. Every ounce of his body wanted to kiss her, but it didn’t seem to be the right time or place. Besides, Kenzi or a parent could walk in on them at any moment. “Now, should I replace those paper towels before I leave?”

  She blinked at him, clearly startled by the change in subject. “Of course,” She grabbed a key off the rack on the wall and handed it to him. “Here’s the key to the supply closet. You should find some there and you can replace them.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take care of this.”

  * * *

  Shelby stared at the doorway long after Tucker had gone. What had happened there? He’d asked her out on a date, she’d thought he was going to kiss her, and then he’d veered back to the paper towels. Perhaps, he just wanted to remain professional at work? She could understand and respect that. At least logically. It was a lot harder to tell her heart that.

  “You all right?” Kenzi asked from the doorway.

  “Yeah, just thinking.” Should she tell Kenzi about the date? She knew her friend would be happy for her, but there was still a part of Shelby that didn’t believe it was real. Maybe she could wait until tomorrow night to tell her, just to be sure.

  “How’d we do?” Kenzi asked.

  “Good. Enough to pay for January’s rent and a little extra. I couldn’t get any of the donors, but Tucker said he’d fund the party.”

  “He did, huh?” Kenzi’s voice held that teasing lilt again. She fell into step as Shelby walked to the front door. “You know, he’s pretty good with the kids too.”

  “Yeah, he seems to be. It’s too bad he’s only here for another week though because we are still behind on money.”

  Kenzi offered a crooked smile as she pushed open the door. “Don’t worry so much. God will provide a way.”

  Shelby knew that. In her heart, she knew it, but it was often a lot harder to let go of the worries of tomorrow than it sounded. Were it just her, it would be one thing, but she also carried the worry for the families who needed the center.

  She walked across the darkened parking lot and tried not to think about what she would do if the center closed. It had been her job for the last several years — first as a volunteer, then as the manager’s assistant, and now as the manager. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

  14

  Tucker slapped the alarm next to him to shut off the annoying beeping, but it didn’t stop. His eyes snapped open, and he realized it was not his alarm going off but his phone. Darkness still lay on the other side of his windows. What time was it? And who would be calling him this early?

  He grabbed the phone and dread flooded him as he recognized the number. Why was his sister calling him? Was she in trouble again? When their mother had died, Whitley had rebelled, acted out, but he’d thought she had outgrown most of that behavior.

  “Hey, Whitley, what’s going on?”

  “Tucker, it’s Dad. He had a heart attack. You need to come home.” A thread of fear colored her voice. Tucker wasn’t sure he had ever heard her scared, so he knew it must be serious.

  “Is he in the hospital?”

  “He is. They aren’t sure what they are going to do next. They have to run some tests, but they’re discussing a quadruple bypass.”

  A quadruple bypass? Tucker wasn’t even sure what that all involved. “How? He eats fairly healthy, doesn’t he?”

  “They think the stress of work finally got to him. Please tell me you can come home.”

  Tucker bit the corner of his lip. He was supposed to be at the center in an hour, and he had practice after that. Blaine had told him not to miss any days, but if his dad were really sick that would be an okay reason to, right?

  But then he had another shift at the center after practice and dinner with Shelby which he didn’t want to miss. “I’ll see what I can do, Whitley, but I’ve got practice and an obligation this evening.”

  Anger flooded her voice. “What could possibly be more important than seeing your father before he dies?”

  “Wait, Dad’s dying?” Even though he and his father hadn’t always had the best relationship, Tucker knew that should his father die without Tucker getting to see him that he would regret it for the rest of his life.

  “Well, no, but what if he has to have the surgery and dies on the table?” Whitley asked adding a sniffle for good measure.

  “You’re being dramatic, Whitley, but I’ll do my best.” He would have to call Coach and clear it with him first. Then he’d have to get ahold of Shelby and make sure she would allow him to make up the work next week. He didn’t think it would be an issue, but he had learned that assuming something wasn’t the best option.

  He dialed Coach’s number first. No doubt the man wouldn’t be happy, but Tucker hoped he would grant the time off.

  “What’s up, Tucker?”

  “Hey, Coach, I just received a call from my sister. My dad had a heart attack, and she wants me to come home and see him in case…” He couldn’t bring himself to utter the words, for fear it would make them come true. “I know it means I’ll have to make up some time at the center next week, and it’s terrible timing with practice, but is there any way I can take a few days? It’s my dad.”

  Silence echoed from the other end. Coach was probably debating if he were telling the truth or not. “It is a bad time, but family is more important than any game. Go, and I’ll tell the team what’s happening. Do you think you’ll be back for the game?”

  The Christmas game was only four days away, but there was no way he was going to miss it. “I’ll come back for the game, Coach. I promise.”

  “All right. Go be with your dad. I’ll be praying for him.”

  The words caught Tucker off guard. For a moment, Coach sounded like his old teammate, Emmitt Brown, but Tucker hadn’t known Coach was a believer as well. Again, Shelby’s words paraded through his mind, reminding him about his own decision to give his anger God; but he pushed them away for the moment. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. Don’t forget to call the woman at the center. You don’t want to just not show up for the community service.”

  “I will.” Tucker ended the call and then pulled up a browser window. He didn’t have Shelby’s number or even the number of the center. Probably, he should have asked for it, but he hadn’t thought he would actually have to call her.

  The center information appeared on his screen and he clicked on the link to dial the number. Shelby probably wouldn’t be there yet, but hopefully they would have voicemail so he could leave a message.

  The phone rang four times in his ear. He was about to hang up and try again later when a click finally sounded in his ear. The recording was faint and not very clear, and he wondered if they were using an old answering machine instead of voicemail. He didn’t think anyone used them anymore, but the center was so behind the times that it was possible they hadn’t joined the rest of the world in that area either.

  When he finally heard the beep signaling the end of the announcement, he rambled off his message. “Shelby, it’s Tucker. My dad had a heart attack, and I have to return home. I don’t know how long I’ll be there, but I’ll try to be ba
ck as soon as I can. I’ll make up whatever hours I miss next week, and we’ll do dinner when I get back. Thanks.”

  As Tucker hung up the phone, he hoped the message would get to her. She would no doubt be livid if it didn’t and she thought he was just ducking the responsibility or standing her up. He’d seen it on her face last night when he’d been late, but he’d done all he could. At least for now.

  * * *

  Shelby glanced at her watch and decided she had time to check the news before heading into work. It wasn’t a daily habit, but she did like to know what was going on in the community in case the center needed to help out in any way.

  “The Texas Tornadoes have issued a statement that Tucker Jackson will not play in Sunday’s game.”

  Shelby’s fork clattered to her plate as her jaw dropped. Not play? Why?

  “The decision comes amid charges that Jackson was involved in a bar brawl after the last game. He has been serving community service at the Southlake Community Center, but evidently that wasn’t retribution enough for victim, Jude Renfrow, who came forward last night with the allegations.”

  Jude Renfrow? So, was that why he had pulled his donation? Had Tucker known? She thought back to the day she’d spoken to Mr. Renfrow. Yes, Tucker had been there, and she’d definitely mentioned Renfrow’s name. Yet, Tucker had said nothing. Had he not known the name of the man he fought with? That seemed unlikely. Even if he hadn’t known Renfrow, his name would have appeared in the police report unless perhaps the police weren’t called. Were police called to bar brawls? Shelby had no idea. She’d never witnessed a bar fight, and she didn’t follow police activity on a regular basis.

  Then her mind flew to last night. Was that why Tucker had offered to fund the party? Because he knew he’d been the reason her donor pulled? Why wouldn’t he just tell her that? Was he ashamed? Or was he playing her? Maybe the dinner invitation had been to butter her up as well, but that made no sense. He couldn’t have known Mr. Renfrow would come forward, could he?

  Shelby flicked off the TV and grabbed her coat and purse. She had questions, and she wasn’t going to let Tucker off easy. He’d mentioned he had anger issues, but he should have told her about the bar brawl. Especially with the center’s reputation at stake.

  The parking lot was empty when she arrived, but Tucker had said he’d be in at eight to discuss the Christmas party. It was ten till, giving her just enough time to open the center and rehearse what she was going to say to him.

  “Whoa, that is a face that could kill,” Kenzi said as she opened the front door. “You better fix that before the kids start showing up or you might scare them away.”

  Shelby had been expecting Tucker, but he was late. “Did you watch the news this morning?”

  A look of incredulousness blanketed Kenzi’s face. “You’re kidding, right? I never watch the news. It’s too depressing. They never talk about the good things, only about all the awful stuff happening in the world, and I don’t need to fill my head with that. Why?”

  “Turns out Tucker was serving community service for punching a guy in a bar,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Kenzi’s eyes widened to the size of quarters. “What? That’s bad, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s bad. If the parents see this story, they might pull the kids. Even worse? The guy he fought with is Jude Renfrow.”

  Kenzi’s face blanked, and Shelby knew she was trying to place the name. When her eyes widened, Shelby knew she had figured it out. “Like our donor Jude Renfrow?”

  Shelby crossed her arms and nodded. “The very one. No wonder Tucker was willing to fund the party. He has to know he’s the reason Mr. Renfrow pulled his donation.”

  Kenzi’s brow furrowed. “But, Tucker is still funding it, right? I mean, the party is still going to happen?”

  Shelby shook her head. Kenzi was missing the point. “Well, he said he was going to fund it, but he’s not here, and he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. What if he saw the news and decided he didn’t need to fund it anymore since he can’t play on Sunday?”

  “Wait, what?” Kenzi asked.

  Shelby sighed in frustration, but as Kenzi hadn’t seen the story, she explained the situation. “The team suspended him for Sunday’s game because of Mr. Renfrow’s allegation. What if they told him and he decided he didn’t need to finish his service? What if he was playing us? Making us think he was having fun, but he was only here because of the requirement?” The thought sobered her. Mostly because she’d thought he’d been connecting with the kids and enjoying himself, but also because of his words last night. If he was pretending to enjoy volunteering, then perhaps he was only pretending to like her. But what could he possibly hope to get from that?

  Kenzi rolled her eyes. “You’re the sensible one, Shelby, but you’re acting crazy right now.”

  She was, and she knew she was, but what other explanation was there? He hadn’t shown up, and he hadn’t called. “There’s something else I haven’t told you, Kenzi. Last night, he asked me to go to dinner with him tonight.”

  “But that’s great. Why do you look like that’s not great?”

  “Because he’s not here.” Shelby threw her hands up in frustration. “What if he was playing me too?”

  Kenzi crossed the room to Shelby and picked up her hand. “I think you know that isn’t true. Now, I don’t know why Tucker hasn’t called, but maybe he’s stuck in traffic. Or maybe he overslept. He was probably tired after last night. Have you tried calling him?”

  “Of course I tried calling him, but I just got his voicemail.”

  “Then you keep trying. I don’t know what happened in the bar fight, but you should hear his side of the story before you jump to any conclusions. You owe him that much.”

  Kenzi was right. Shelby knew that what was on TV was usually only half of the story, and Tucker hadn’t given her a reason to doubt him. Other than his not being here right now. The phone rang beside her, and Shelby picked it up. “Southlake Community Center, how can I help you?”

  “Is this Shelby Doll?”

  “Yes, may I ask who this is?”

  “This is Melissa Utting. I’m Colson’s mother.”

  Shelby’s heart sank. Had Colson said something about Tucker’s intervention last night? “Yes, Mrs. Utting, how can I help you?”

  “I’m calling about the story I saw on the news this morning.” Shelby forced herself to remain calm and collected, but this was exactly what she’d been afraid of. “Why on earth do you have someone who was charged with assault working with the kids there?”

  Assault? The story she had watched had said nothing about assault charges. Had there been something more or had Melissa read more into the story than what was said? “I understand your concern, Melissa. However, I am unaware of any assault charge.”

  Melissa cut her off, and the anger in her voice could have started a fire. “Did you watch the news this morning?”

  “I did. I saw that Tucker has been suspended due to allegations, but there was no mention of an assault charge. Besides, we are a center that allows people to serve community service here. I am not sure of the circumstances behind the allegations, but I can tell you that Tucker has been great with the kids.”

  “Well, Colson will not be returning. Any center that would allow an athlete to work there who probably bought his way out of an assault charge is not some place I want my son.”

  Shelby was about to respond when the loud click followed by the dial tone told her that Melissa was no longer on the other end. While she didn’t feel Melissa pulling Colson was that big of a loss, especially after the bullying incident, she feared that this phone call was going to be the first of many.

  15

  Tucker stared at the looming hospital in front of him and swallowed his discomfort. Even though his mother had died at home and not in a hospital, he still equated the sterile buildings with her death. Maybe it was the smell of antiseptic that coated the halls, the same smell that masked his mother’s
scent after she was gone. Or maybe the pale cream walls themselves were to blame. They were the same pale cream color that reminded him of the sheet they had pulled over her face before taking her away. Whatever it was, he hated hospitals! Hated the sight, the sound, and the smell of them. Now, he was being forced to enter one again.

  His foot took a step as if it remembered how to walk even while his brain didn’t, but it was a slow and halting step. He probably looked as if he was the injured one in need of a hospital as he crossed the parking lot instead of his father. His father. The man who hadn’t been there for Tucker or Whitley since his wife died, so why was Tucker here for him now? Because he felt obligated to? Because he was family? Or was it because of the frailty of life? Perhaps it was a combination of all three. It was one thing to be angry at his father and to allow that to keep him from coming home more often, but it was another thing entirely to not come see him knowing he could be on his deathbed.

  Heart surgeries were more common now than they once were, and, after searching quadruple bypasses, he knew that most ended well. But it was the ones that didn’t end well that had stayed with him. Any surgery had a risk of complication, but he imagined the risks were higher when your chest was cracked open, and someone messed around with your heart.

  Somehow he made it across the parking lot and through the main doors. A stop at the reception desk earned him a visitor pass and directions to room 312. And then he was in the elevator. As the doors closed, he felt as if they were closing off his air supply as well. His hand pulled at his collar as if the few inches of give would allow him to breathe easier. Black spots darted across his vision, and his hand found the wall as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Then the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open.

  The black dots receded, but the pressure did not. Still, Tucker managed to step over the line, allowing the doors to close behind him. The dim hum of conversations and computers floated on the air, sounding muted in his brain. His eyes found the small gray plaque indicating room 312 lay to the left, and he forced his feet that direction.