“That could have been me,” Adam said, his voice impassive.
“I told her she should ask this boy’s brother, Tyler, to join the teen group, that maybe he was bored and needed something to do.”
Adam arched a dubious brow at her but said nothing.
“All right, maybe I’m being optimistic here, but she seemed to dwell on this kid, like she felt sorry for him. And I couldn’t help thinking—what makes some kids, like you, straighten out, and others not?”
He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “In some ways, I think it was luck that I tangled with the right person. It was Coach McKee’s car I stole, and you could have blown me away when he showed up at my hearing. I thought he was there to make sure they put me away in juvenile hall to teach me a lesson. Instead, he spoke up for me, said I was a good kid and deserved a second chance.”
Unspoken, but plain as day, was the knowledge that no one except his grandma had ever called him a good kid. She remembered in seventh grade when a teacher had assumed he’d been the one to throw food in the cafeteria, without a shred of proof. He’d just accepted the punishment without protest, as if he knew not to bother. Could that kind of thing be a self-fulfilling prophecy? Brooke’s stomach tightened with sadness. When your own parents treated you like dirt, it was hard to think otherwise about yourself. “I bet your grandma was at the hearing, too.”
He gave a wry smile. “Front row. I was embarrassed to have her see me like that, knew she was trying not to cry, and for the first time realized that my actions affected someone else. She had an encouraging smile for me, and I knew I hadn’t lost her love.” He looked away.
Brooke had to swallow hard as the love between grandmother and grandson warmed her. “So Coach McKee put you on the football team?”
“As a manager. You have to earn the right to play. No matter how sarcastic I was about my ‘job,’ Coach McKee never took offense. He kept track of me just as he did the rest of his players. And by tryouts the next season, I was convinced I was just as good as any of his team.” He glanced at her mockingly. “I thought rather highly of myself.”
“No!” she said, looking at the road as she drove but putting a hand to her chest. “I’d never have thought that after spending some time in your bed.”
“I’d pinch your ass if you weren’t driving.”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “So go on with your story.”
“There isn’t much more to tell. I started from the bottom and worked my way into a starting position. I took some ribbing, but after my parents, there isn’t much that some kid could say that would affect me. I felt driven to prove Coach wasn’t wrong about me. I’d never worked so hard. And there were rewards, too. Guys who’d never given me the time of day started listening to me. By senior year, I was one of the team captains, and being in charge, being respected, felt good. I’d never had that before.”
She listened to his quiet voice, and occasionally looked at him to see his expression unfocused, as if he saw the past.
“But then how did you go from that to the Marines? It’s a big jump.”
“I thought about college, and maybe I could have gotten a football scholarship to a small school—I wasn’t a Division I prospect. But I’d have had no money for books or travel or clothes, and frankly, going to school more just didn’t appeal to me. You neither?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “Nate went to college and learned everything about business and animal science. It seemed . . . repetitive to learn the same stuff.”
“That was the opinion of an eighteen-year-old girl. What do you think now?”
“I guess I still feel that way,” she said with a shrug. “His skills help him take care of his part of the ranch. My skills are out here, under the sky, with the animals. Do you wish you’d chosen differently?”
“No. Once Coach suggested the military—he was a vet himself—something seemed to click inside me. And Grandma Palmer was so proud I had a direction in my life at last.”
“You had more than a direction—you must have been driven. Your grandma told us you’d been promoted through the ranks to staff sergeant at a young age.”
He shrugged.
And then . . . nothing. It took everything in Brooke not to ask him specific questions when it was obvious he was keeping so much inside.
“So what you’re saying,” she said at last, “is that this Tyler kid needs some good people in his life. I kind of told that to Steph, suggested she invite him to join her teen group. I’ll let you know what happens.”