When you love someone, nothing makes you happier than seeing them live their best life. Even if that means you can’t be in it all the time.
My dad nods and reaches an upturned palm to me. I lay my hand in his and smile as his fingers wrap around mine. His hands have always been twice the size of mine. Like Hunter’s. Pitching hands.
“She told me you talked. I’m . . . glad. And as for your mom’s . . . salary? How do you think . . . we paid for your college? Or . . . Lindsey’s wedding. And now . . . Lindsey’s lawyer.”
I stare into my father’s eyes and unravel my entire life. My sister’s life.
“I thought I qualified for financial aid? That I had scholarships?”
My father’s lip inches up on one side and he shakes with a silent laugh.
“I know you did. And it was . . . a scholarship of sorts. We call it . . . the Sarah Rasmussen-Blackwood . . . fund for girls.”
My eyes sting from the air because I can’t seem to close them. I can’t blink. I can’t speak. I had no idea.
“And the wedding? It wasn’t money that Aunt Beth left for us?”
“Renleigh . . . did you ever meet an Aunt . . . Beth?” He chuckles, almost proud of this massive fraud he and my mother pulled over on us. It was for our own benefit, but still!
“You made her up?” I lower my head and cover my mouth, realizing my volume.
My dad nods, and I’m about to grill him more when my mom appears behind him with a paper plate in her hand, and a triple-decker sandwich complete with toothpicks holding the pieces together.
“One turkey, bacon and tomato, coming right up,” she says.
It’s my favorite sandwich. Iknowmy mom used to make it for us when we were kids. It’s the reason I love club-style sandwiches.
“You toasted the bread,” I say, my eyes stinging with a massive desire to water. I push the sensation down. I’m not ready for any of this.
“Hope you like it,” she says, eyeing my tic-tac-toe game on my father’s cast.
“She totally took it easy on you,” she snickers, winking at me.
She’s right.
I did.
Chapter 27
Hunter
When I told Kyle I was making this drive, he laughed and told me to stay awake. Coach’s reaction was similar. I heard a lot of warnings about the crowded highways on my way out of Dallas and the sudden dearth of topography. But I have to say, coming from the congested freeway tangles of Southern California, the wide-open spaces and lush green feel kind of nice. So do the small towns along the way.
It’s been a four-hour trip, but I feel like I’ve seen a thousand places, all of them different. Maybe this will get old eventually, but it’s going to take several passes for me to find any of this boring.
I roll into Sweetwater just as the sun is setting. The sky is swaths of purples and oranges. I get similar paint strokes in Dallas, but it hits different out here. Less urban. In Oklahoma, you can almostsmellthe sunsets.
I arranged to swap out my rental car here in Sweetwater at a small car lot that mostly serves the university. Brooks brought my truck up for me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t have ulterior motives with the ask. It’s an excuse to check in on him. I didn’t have to pry much when we talked, either. There was a babycrying in the background, and that’s kind of hard to explain away when you’re a single dude playing for a farm team.
I park the Honda near the rental office and turn in the keys while some dude walks around the car with a clipboard to make sure I brought it back whole. Other than bugs smashed on the windshield, it’s pretty much the same as it was when it was delivered to me.
“Hey, man. I got someone for you to meet,” Brooks says, swinging a carrier around his body as he steps around the front of my truck.
“My goodness,” I coo. It’s funny how a tiny human can literally bring two massive dudes to their knees.
“Brooks, buddy. She’s precious,” I say, careful to keep my voice down so I don’t wake his daughter.
His expression still seems gobsmacked. He’s white as a ghost, and the dark circles under his eyes are prominent. But there’s a smile under all that exhaustion. He’s doing this. He’s actually doing this.
