Tanner opened his mouth, but she spoke first, quickly. “I know I have no right to tell you what to do,” she said. “But it’s your turn, Tanner. You always take care of everyone even when it’s at a high cost to yourself. So promise me you’ll take care of you.”
Chapter 23
Tanner picked Troy up at Lucille’s art gallery. The teen walked out to the truck, moving so slowly he might as well have been walking backward.
“So Mom finally bailed, huh?” Troy asked when he finally got close enough to be heard.
“You know?” Tanner asked.
“Yeah. I overheard her talking on the phone a week ago.”
Shit. No wonder the kid had been attitude-ridden and pissed at the world. “You’ll still see her,” Tanner told him. “You can fly back there whenever you want and—”
“I don’t care.” Troy tossed his backpack into the back, slid into the truck, and buckled up.
“Troy—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Tanner wanted to say tough shit because they needed to talk about it, but that battle could wait until they weren’t in the truck. So could the talk about getting caught in a girl’s bedroom. “School okay?”
He got a barely lifted shoulder.
“You turn in your research paper for English that was due today?”
Another shoulder lift.
“Help me out here,” Tanner said. “Is that yes, no, or go to hell?”
Troy let out a breath. Like maybe Tanner was a colossal pain in his ass. “I turned the paper in,” he said.
“And?” Tanner asked.
“And what?”
“Did you get a passing grade?”
“Dunno yet.”
Tanner started to pull away from the curb and then realized Lucille had come out of her gallery. She headed around the truck toward the driver side. Tanner slid Troy a look. “Anything you want to tell me?”
Troy apparently pleaded the fifth because he remained silent.
With no other choice except to remain parked or run Lucille over—which was a little too tempting—Tanner waited until she’d cleared the front of the truck to roll his window down.
She was so short that he could barely see her.
“Hi there!” she chirped, going up on her tiptoes to look into the cab. She winked at Troy. “You tell him?”
Tanner slid a look at Troy. “Tell me what?”
The kid shook his head.
“Eh?” Lucille cupped a hand around her ear. “Speak up, boy. You know I’m old as dirt.”
“I didn’t tell him,” Troy mumbled.
“Well, why not?” Lucille turned to Tanner. “He got himself a part in the school play. The lead in Romeo and Juliet.”
Tanner went brows up. “You tried out for the school play?” he asked Troy.
Troy slouched in his seat.
Lucille laughed. “He did it because Brittney’s going to be Juliet. Tell him, Troy.”
Troy closed his eyes.
“He needed help catching the girl,” Lucille said. “My specialty.” She peered up at Tanner. “You’re next.”
“What?”
“You’re due,” she said.
“Due for what?” he asked warily.
“To get the girl.” She grinned. “You need a lot of help but you’re not ready to ask. No worries, I’m invested in this one since it’s my granddaughter we’re talking about.”
Tanner opened his mouth—to say what, he hadn’t the foggiest clue—but Lucille tapped the side of the truck. “Whelp, have a great evening, boys.”
And then she walked off.
Tanner turned to eyeball Troy. “Romeo?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is Brittney the girl you made the heart in the sand for?”
Nothing.
“Is she the girl whose mother is going to call me about your visit?”
A very weighted, very loaded silence.
The list of things the kid didn’t want to talk about was getting longer by the minute. And the tension in the truck cab was ratcheting up.
“It’s not what you think,” Troy said tightly in a tone that suggested he didn’t expect to be believed but desperately wanted just that.
Tanner knew that was Troy feeling backed into a corner—a bad place for a teenager. Trying to lighten the mood, he said, “You get to kiss the girl in the play, right?”
Troy blinked and then…grinned. The kid actually grinned.
Tanner soaked up the beautiful sight and put the truck in gear. Some things were worth waiting for, he supposed. He drove them home and turned to Troy. “We still have something to discuss.”
Troy sank into his seat again, crossing his arms. He couldn’t have looked more defensive if he’d tried. “Nothing to talk about. People get disappointed all the time, it’s just a fact. Grandma’s disappointed I’m not a little kid that she can dote on. Mom’s disappointed she had me. The color purple sucks. Life goes on.”
Tanner stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you want to discuss being disappointed in me for being in the play over football? Or getting caught sneaking around?”
“Okay, now wait a minute—” But Tanner was talking to air because the kid was already half out the door. Tanner snagged him by the back of his sweatshirt. “Not so fast.”