Brandon turned his truck onto their street. “Life isn’t just about football, Matt.”
“Okay…” Matt paused, apparently searching for a more acceptable answer. “It’s a better school.”
Brandon lowered his brow. “In what way?”
Matt shook his head and picked at the hem of his shirt. “Just is.”
“You don’t even know, do you?”
“I know more than you think,” Matt shot back.
Brandon snorted. “Because of all the research you’ve done?” Had he not done enough? Had he not taken enough time to talk about college and the priorities of a good school? Time had slipped away from him so fast that he hadn’t been prepared for the college thing. One minute Matt had been doing eighth-grade science projects, and the next it was time for college submissions.
“I’ve done enough,” Matt answered. “It’s a good school, so I don’t know what your deal is.”
Yeah, he knew UT was a good school. But it was expensive and so damn far away. Brandon knew, as he pulled his truck into the driveway, that the distance thing was just as much of an issue as the cost. It had always been the two of them. Him and his boy. First it had been him and his little man; then Matt had grown up and Brandon couldn’t hold on to him any longer.
He threw the truck in park and sighed. “Okay, answer me this. If Adrienne wasn’t in the picture, would you even be considering UT?”
Matt didn’t answer at first. Then he shook his head and laughed. “I don’t know, Dad. I don’t know how to answer that because she is in the picture.”
“What if you break up and you realize you hate UT?” Brandon countered.
“Why would I hate UT?” Matt tossed back. “What if I get to Boulder and realize I hate it there?”
Touché. “Okay, what if Adrienne were going away to Rhode Island or Alaska?” Brandon argued. “Would you follow her anywhere?”
Matt unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m pretty sure nobody goes away to school in Alaska.” He opened the door and stepped out. “Why are you asking me all these rhetorical questions?”
Brandon followed Matt out of the truck and together they walked toward the front door. “I just want to make sure you’ve really thought this through. Don’t hinge all your future plans on your high school girlfriend.”
“We’ve already had this conversation,” Matt pointed out as he opened the front door and dropped his backpack. “I’m not going to make the same mistake you did.”
Brandon shut the door and flipped the lights on. Duke came trotting out and followed them into the kitchen. Brandon stroked the dog’s ear before pulling a tray of leftover lasagna out of the fridge. “My job as a parent is to do what’s best for you.”
Matt rummaged around in a cabinet. “You’re also supposed to let me make my own mistakes. How am I supposed to learn anything if you’re constantly sheltering me? Look, Dad,” Matt went on as he set an empty glass on the kitchen counter. “I’ve given this a lot of thought and UT is where I want to go. And I know the chances of Adrienne and I making it long-term are slim, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He lifted his shoulders, which were almost as wide as Brandon’s. “And you don’t need to worry about the cost, or anything, because I plan to apply for student loans.”
Brandon was concerned with more than just the cost. But he knew Matt had made up his mind and nothing Brandon could say would change it. The kid was just as stubborn as he was. A fact that equally frustrated and made him proud.
Brandon heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “It’s obvious you’ve made up your mind. So, if UT is where you want to go, then you’ve got my support.”
Matt’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Really?”
“Yeah. And I’m not saying I hope you and Adrienne break up. She’s a good girl who has a promising future. All I’m saying is”—Brandon shifted his feet and glanced at Duke, who’d sprawled across the kitchen floor—“if it doesn’t work out, then I’ll try and refrain from the whole I-told-you-so.”
Matt chuckled. “Gee, thanks.”
Before Brandon could yank the kid in for a hug, or any of the other mushy shit that he didn’t do well, his cell rang. He retrieved it from his back pocket and answered without checking the caller ID.
“Yeah,” he greeted.
“Brandon?”
The female voice on the other end had him pausing in the act of removing the aluminum from the lasagna tray. He blinked, then glanced back at Matt, who’d dropped to the floor to rub Duke’s belly.
“Yeah,” he answered, deliberately not using Trish’s name in front of Matt.
“Have you been getting my messages?” she asked without easing in to any kind of conversation. “Is Matt around? Can I talk to him?”
Brandon stepped around Matt and Duke and let himself into the backyard through the sliding glass door. “Yeah, he’s here. But he doesn’t know you’ve been calling. I haven’t said anything to him yet.”
There was a long, silent pause on the other end before Trish responded. “Why not? I only want to speak to him for a few minutes. I just…I need to hear his voice.”
“I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to you, Trish.”
“How do you know unless you ask him?” she pushed.
“Because I know him.” Meaning Trish didn’t. Yeah, she’d get what Brandon meant without him having to say it. Not like he was trying to be cruel. But Trish still didn’t understand. Matt had let her go a long time ago. To him there was no mother. Only a woman who hadn’t wanted him. The grieving process had been long and painful for Matt, but afterward there hadn’t been anything. No anger, no hurt. Just nothing.
“He’s graduating this year, Brandon,” Trish pointed out, as though he didn’t know. “I just want to talk to him before that. I need to know that he’s okay.”
Brandon pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the deck railing. “He’s fine, Trish. He’s—”
“Brandon…,” she interrupted. “Okay, look. I was prepared to have a fight on my hands and I’m willing to do this any way you want.” She was silent a moment, giving Brandon an opportunity to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I just want to hear his voice, Brandon,” she whispered. “Please.”
Damn her. Damn her for making him love her, then leaving. Damn her for tugging him along for all those years with empty promises. Damn her for what she’d put Matt through, for making him blame himself for his mother leaving, as though he’d done something wrong. And damn her again for making Brandon feel for her when he didn’t want to give her a passing thought. She meant nothing to them, and yet the frisson of guilt that unfurled inside him came without warning.
He wasn’t a heartless bastard, as much as he wanted to be toward Trish. She’d reached right back in and fisted his heart in her hands. And as much as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to piss off.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed away from the railing. “Give me sec,” he gave in. “I’ll ask him.”