Feel the Fire (Hotshots 3)
“We?” Walker rolled his eyes. “More like you dragged me along.”
“Can I help it if I’m excited?” Wade grabbed a stack of papers from over by the toaster oven. “This was in the mail at Mom’s yesterday. Addressed to me with a personalized letter and everything.”
“Another college?” Tucker glanced down at the glossy catalog and several loose sheets of paper, including a letter from the head of the athletics department.
“Not just any college. This place in Kansas is a Division II, yeah, but they have one of the best-ranked teacher’s colleges in the country, and they’ve churned out guys who coach at the best high schools and colleges across the country. And they’re interested in me.”
“Kansas?” Gulping, Tucker tried not to sound too horrified.
“This would be why we’re here, and not at Mom’s. She’s going to flip out.” Walker reached for the syrup.
“Yeah, I know it would be a plane ride, not a drive for you to come to games, but you keep telling me to have some goal beyond partying and playing ball. So I’ve been thinking, and dude, what better life than to coach once I can’t play? I’ll be good at it. You know I will.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Tucker’s throat was thick.
“And if I’m going to be awesome at it, well then I better go to one of the best places to learn how to coach. And play some ball while I’m at it. Coach says he’d like to schedule a call with me and my parents. How exciting is that?” Wade bounced on the balls of his feet, almost dropping the spatula in the process.
“Very.” Trying to draw from Wade’s enthusiasm, Tucker figured he could at least do the phone call if it meant that much to his son.
“You’re going to hate Kansas,” Walker scoffed around a bite of pancake.
That earned a wild gesture with the spatula from Wade. “F—”
“Language.” Tucker plucked the spatula from his grip and set it back in the spoon rest before he could bop his brother like they were toddlers again.
“I am not going to hate it.” Wade stared Walker down, eyes daring either of them to object. “I looked at the pictures. There’s frats and brick buildings and a big quad where they play Frisbee when the weather is good. You’re just bitter because you’re stuck staying here.”
He was so animated that in that moment, Tucker could see it, leaves changing colors, kids scurrying from building to building, rush week for the Greek system, Wade out there catching Frisbees. He was as good as gone. If not this school, then some other one. Utterly fearless, exactly how he’d been since his first steps. He had a goal now, and the same kid who had managed to scale every obstacle in pursuit of extra cookies or some forbidden item was going to crush it. Tucker was more than a little awed by him.
Walker rolled his eyes at Wade’s taunt, but a flush spread up his cheeks. “At least I’m not falling in love with every brochure that comes my way.”
“Hey, I want options. Nothing wrong with that.” Picking up the spatula again, Wade started in on another batch of pancakes.
“Options are good,” Tucker agreed. Damn how he wished he could say the same for himself and his Luis dilemma. They seemed fresh out of options, no choices that would work and not end in more misery and heartache. Unlike Wade and his buffet of attractive alternatives, Tucker simply didn’t see a way out of this for himself. It was all the more depressing in the face of such adolescent enthusiasm. For the first time in a long time, Tucker missed when the world had been that wide open and shiny.
“I figure I’ll apply everywhere, see where I get the best package—”
Tucker let out a relieved laugh. “My bank account thanks you for that.”
“See?” Wade whirled back to Walker. “Dad’s not freaking out. He gets it. I’ve got to go where I’ve got to go.”
Where I’ve got to go. Tucker did get it on multiple levels. Like he understood Luis had to return to California, that that was where his roots were, where he’d bloomed, where he wanted to be. And Walker would reach this same understanding with Wade—Tucker was sure of that. When you loved someone, you let them go.
Whoa. Wait. He felt deeply for Luis, no question, but was it that kind of unconditional, selfless love? Maybe so because he did want the best for Luis, even if that wasn’t him, even if it meant bearing this awful emptiness in his chest that even the distraction of this conversation with the boys couldn’t erase.
“I’m cheering for you,” he told Wade, even though it was hard, even though he would miss him like crazy. And Luis too. But he had to do it, had to let them go.