by Emma Louise
After that, I started saving all the money I could, and by the time I hit seventeen I was able to buy my first car. It was a piece of shit old Camaro that Brooke’s stepdad, Duke, helped me find then rebuild on the weekends. My own father was too drunk to give a shit what I was doing. I could have been stealing the cars for all he cared.
Brooke was terrified the first time I raced, but she pushed it down for me, and as time went on, she even started to come along. She knew what it meant to me. That doesn’t mean she didn’t try to talk me out of going on more than one occasion. I should have known how much she hated it. Looking back now, I know she was right. It was reckless and stupid. But what kid doesn’t feel invincible at that age?
But never, not for one-minute would I have thought she was serious when she told me she was done with me. When she told me it was her or the race, I was too cocky to think I wouldn’t be able to drive to her house the very next day, acting like nothing was wrong.
“Don’t think you’ll be welcome in there right now, Tuck.” Duke’s rough voice sounds from the garage at the side of the house where he’s working on a car. “You need to give her some time to cool off.”
“She’s that mad?”
“She’s hurt, son, not mad,” he grumbles. Duke has always been a man of few words. The first time I’d seen him I was about five-years-old and scared as fuck of the guy. It was the twins’ birthday party, and our whole class was there. I never lost that fear of him, not in all the years I was here as a friend, and definitely not when I came here as Brooke’s date.
He’s a badass ex-Army Ranger who is covered in muscles and tattoos, and he uses that to its full intimidating advantage at all times. He did nothing but glare at me until I was coming here regularly for at least six months. It took almost another six months after that before he begrudgingly let me work on a car with him. We’ve become close since then, and I think more of him than I do my own father.
Brooke, her sister, and their mom, Elliott, all look like real life Barbie dolls, but this guy dotes on all of them. His protectiveness is fierce. I’m praying she hasn’t told him about the street racing because he’ll never forgive me if he thinks I've been putting her in danger.
It doesn’t matter that she’s never in the car with me when I race. Or that I barely break the speed limit when she’s with me any other time. He won’t see it like that. Just her being at something like an illegal race would be enough for him to murder me in my sleep.
“Can I see her?” I usually walk on into the house, but I don’t get the feeling that Duke is going to be okay with that today.
“Not gonna happen,” he mutters, not looking up from under the hood of the car. I hang around for as long as I can, hoping like hell she’ll come out here so I can see her, but she must know I'm here, and she doesn’t show her face.
The same happens every day that I go to her house.
It's not until two weeks pass that Duke tells me it’s time to give up.
She’s gone, and she doesn’t plan on coming back anytime soon.
CHAPTER SIX
BROOKE
“Shit.” I hiss as the scalding hot coffee splashes over the rim off my travel mug, covering my hand and the hem of the pale blue summer dress I stupidly wore today. The dark stain spreads across the fabric, and it’s almost enough to spark frustrated tears in my eyes. My gut screams at me to turn the car around and go back home. I’m ready to crawl out of my own skin with the thought of seeing Rylee today. I’m mortified at letting her see my reaction to Tucker. It’s been almost two weeks since that night, and I’ve been lucky enough to avoid seeing her any of the times I’ve been at the house, but my luck has to run out sometime soon.
I have no idea how I’m supposed to explain to her what happened that night, when I honestly don’t even know myself. One minute I was having a great time, finally letting my hair down and feeling comfortable around new people, and the next the walls were closing in on me as memories consumed me. I had to get out of there. On top of that, there he was. The last person I thought I’d see again, Tucker.
It’s been years since I last saw him. Years since I watched him walk away from me, climb into his car, and drive away. Leaving me all alone.
Memories upon memories have assaulted me since that night. I’m not sleeping, and my stomach is constantly twisted in anxiety. I’m a mess by the time I pull into a parking space in front of the house, and I have to take a minute to try to get ahold of myself. I need to push this unwelcome rush of feelings back into the box they’ve been successfully held in for the last few years.
***
“I think the brush is clean, Ms, Brooke.” The soft voice from beside me snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look down at the very clean brush I’ve been holding under the running water for way too long. Looks like I’m doing a terrible job of keeping my thoughts off Tucker. Dropping the brush on the side of the sink, I turn to find Jared looking up at me with a tiny smile at the edge of his lips. He’s much more at ease with me after the last few sessions we’ve had together.
Kids like Jared are the reason I do this. Growing up, I couldn’t express my feelings well with words. My parents divorcing and the subsequent abandonment from my biological father left me confused and scared at times. As much as I loved my mom and Duke, it wasn’t easy to tell them how I was feeling. Mom never trash talked our dad, not once, but it was obvious to us even as little kids that they didn’t interact. There was a divide between my parents, and no matter how they tried to hide it, Bailey and I felt it. It wasn’t until I was around eight-years-old that my mom decided we should see a therapist. The first few sessions were pure torture for me as I struggled to put my feelings into words. Seeing how hard it was for me, the therapist asked me to draw how I was feeling. Once that pencil was in my hand, it was like a whole new world opened up for me. One where my thoughts and feelings were no longer trapped inside. It was a no-brainer for me when it came to deciding what to do with my life when I was old enough to make those kinds of decisions.
“He’s been like a different kid, since he started his sessions with you,” Tony, one of the house counselors, tells me once the boys are cleaned up and leaving the room.
“I can see.” I smile, watching as Jared starts a conversation with one of the older kids. “He’s really coming out of his shell.”
“He told me he spoke to his mom earlier this week?” I ask Tony something that Jared brought up while we were working together today.
“Yeah, I wasn’t convinced it was good to let them talk, but I think it actually helped him.”
“She’s still in rehab?”
“Six months now.” Tony nods as he answers. “She asked to extend the program, so I’m hopeful that means she’s taking it seriously this time.”
“I hope so.” I’ve read Jared’s file. I know his mother is addicted to meth and a variety of other drugs. I know he’s been left alone while she went out to bars and other places looking for a fix.
I know he had to feed himself with whatever scraps of food he could find.
I know he was the one who found her the last time she OD’d. I’ll never forget the words in that file, but those pale in comparison to how much of a kick in the gut it was to see the pictures he’s drawn since. His stick figure mom laying on a filth-ridden floor, a needle stabbed into her arm. The poor kid has seen more filth in his six years on earth than most people ever will, and my heart aches for him.
“We’re having a party here for him and another of the boys whose birthdays are next week. I know they’d love for you to be there.” As tempting as it is to say no, to keep hiding from Rylee and the complications that have suddenly appeared in my life, I accept the invitation.
By the time I’m driving home later that evening, I’m exhausted. All I can think about is getting into a nice hot bath and eating my own body weight in Chinese food.
I’m just getting out of my car when my phone vibrates in my purse. Juggling the stack of files I brought home to work
on, I manage to answer the call and open my front door at the same time.
“You move to my city, and I don’t even get a call to tell me you’re here?” The deep voice of my cousin, Chase, sounds down the line.
“Hi to you too,” I say with a wide smile. It’s been too long since I’ve seen any of my relatives. We’ve always been a huge blended family, spending weekends, holidays, and vacations together. My mom, her best friends, and their families are all aunts, uncles, and cousins, even when there’s no blood ties between some of us.
Chase plays football for the L.A. Sharks, signing for them right after finishing college almost two years ago. Him being so close is one of the only reasons my mom didn’t lose her mind more than she did when I told her I accepted the job out here.
“I’m only in town for two days, so I’m taking you to dinner tonight,” he announces, and as much as I was looking forward to spending the evening with my bed, seeing a familiar face is even more appealing right now. That and the thought of a glass of crisp, cold white wine too.
***
The bar Chase drags me to is packed full of people, and there’s not a vacant table in sight. We’ve already been to dinner, and although I should probably head home, I’m not ready to be on my own again yet. Being around family is keeping my mind from wandering back to thoughts of Tucker.
Spotting a group of guys around a pool table at the back of the room, Chase guides us to a vacant stool at a high-top table nearby. After a round of introductions, I begin to relax a little. It’s strange seeing my cousin and his friends being the center of attention the way they are, but it’s also kind of cool. Chase told me this place is a local hangout for the team, so the staff know to keep an area clear for them so they don’t get too many fan interruptions. It’s kinda crazy to see the dorky little cousin who used to follow Bailey and me around all grown up and demanding this much attention.
I’m on my second, and last, glass of wine when one of Chase’s teammates, Rafferty, tells me another joke that has me about to pee my pants with laughter. He’s taken it upon himself to keep me occupied since Chase got distracted by a pretty brunette waitress a little while ago. His hysterical game of peoplewatching has me laughing so hard my sides hurt. He’s a huge guy, not to mention absolutely gorgeous; all of Chase’s friends are. A fact that hasn’t gone unnoticed by the large group of women that have gathered near our tables.
When I finally get my laughter under control, I excuse myself to the bathroom. I’m weaving my way through the now thinned-out crowd when I collide with what feels like a brick wall. The crisp freshwater scent that I’d recognize anywhere is an attack on my senses. Strong hands grip my arms with a little too much force. I don’t need to look up to know who it is, but I do anyway.
Tucker’s steel-gray eyes sear into mine as he stares down at me.
“What are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for me to find the words to answer before he keeps speaking. “I don’t see you for years, and suddenly it feels like you’re everywhere I turn,” he grinds out, jaw flexing as he tries to contain the animosity that radiates from him. “Leave me the hell alone, Brooke.”
“Tuck, I didn’t—”
“I’m not Tuck to you anymore,” he spits out, leaning down to get right in my face. I’m hit with the strong smell of alcohol. He’s drunk. No, he’s wasted. “I’m not anything to you anymore.” His hold on me tightens to the point of pain, and I do a poor job at hiding it. Even though he’s drunk, Tucker doesn’t miss the wince that twists across my face. He looks from my face to his where he still holds me, I see the realization as it hits him. He lets go of me so fast that I stumble back, wobbling on my heels.
Who is this man? This isn’t the Tucker I knew. He never would have acted like this. It's a stark reminder that the boy I once knew is long gone.
“I shouldn’t have…” He stumbles over his words. He stares down at his hands, seemingly confused over what just happened. A loud cheer goes up around the bar, jolting Tucker out of the trance he’s trapped in. His bleak gray eyes find mine, and what I see there has my heart clenching.
Pain. Confusion. Misery.
It's a look I used to see in his eyes occasionally. When things were bad at home and Tuck would try to shut me out. When he needed me but didn’t know how to tell me because he was embarrassed about the way his father would act. When he would try to push me away because he only knew how to process things on his own.
I hated that look when we were kids. I hate it even more now.
“Everything okay here, Brooke?” I feel the bulk of Rafferty as he comes to stand at my back. Hostility radiates from him, but I can’t drag my eyes away from the man in front of me. The air around us turns arctic as the two guys stare at each other.
“I’m fine. Tucker and I are...” My voice trails off without finishing that thought because, what are we? How do you describe what the love of your life is to you when you haven’t seen him in years? There is it again, the stark reminder that whatever we once were died long ago.
A hard scowl wraps around Tucker’s features, and his nostrils flare as he breathes out a dark, derisive scoff. His eyes, filled with disdain, flick down to meet mine at the same time I feel Rafferty move so his chest is touching my back.
“We’re nothing, Brooke. Absolutely nothing. Enjoy your date,” he sneers, giving Rafferty a dirty look.
And then he’s gone. All I can do is watch as he walks away from me, this time only hurting a little less than it did ten years ago.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TUCKER
White hot shafts of sunlight stab through my closed eyes. “What the fuck?” I grumble to myself, my voice a harsh rasp. I haven’t even moved yet, and I already feel like I’m about to lose the contents of my stomach.
Fuck.
Cold sweat clings to my skin as I battle to stop the room from spinning. A waft of coffee hits me, and that’s all it takes for my arid mouth to fill with saliva. Throwing back the sheet, I’m on my feet and ready to run to the bathroom. It takes my sleep-addled brain way too long to process the fact that I have no idea where I am.
I’m not in my bedroom.
I’m not even in my own fucking house.
Taking a chance, I push open the first door I see, sending up a silent prayer that I'm not about to throw up in some stranger’s closet. Sweet relief hits me when I find it’s an empty bathroom.
Ten minutes later, I finally feel semi-human. Getting dressed and cleaned up as best as I can, I follow the smell of bacon coming from down the hallway, my stomach churning more and more with every step. I’ve got zero desire to stick around here and face up to the mistake I obviously made last night, so I swerve through the kitchen and head straight for the door.
“Really? You’re not even going to say ‘bye?” The unimpressed voice sounds from behind me as my hand hits the door handle. So much for making a quick escape. I’m tempted to just ignore her and keep walking, but even I’m not that much of an asshole.
“We’re not doing this, Karlyn,” I tell her, biting back the frustration I feel starting to burn inside.
“Doing what exactly?” she spits, her usually pretty face scrunched in annoyance. “Having basic manners?”
“This”—I wave a hand between us to indicate what I’m talking about—“whatever the fuck happened last night was a mistake.” Karlyn is an ... ex of mine for lack of a better word. Not that she was ever a girlfriend as such; she was more of the friends-with-benefits type, but that never stopped her from trying her hardest to stake a claim on me. I finally managed to scrape her off a few months ago, but obviously I was so fucked up last night, I’ve somehow let her think she’s back in.
“Whatever happened?” she seethes, voice dropping dangerously low as she steps closer in my direction. “You ignore me for months, Tucker. You don’t answer a single text or a single fucking call—” She waves the knife in her hand in my direction, and that’s my cue to get the hell out of here.
“I told you month
s ago that we were done.” The words feel like grit in my mouth. I’m pissed that I even have to tell her this again.
“Didn’t seem like it when you were sticking your dick in me last night,” she fires back, the words hitting me like fucking bullets. Shame sits heavy on my shoulders. It was kind of obvious from the fact I woke up naked in her bed, but hearing her say the words has my chest feeling like it’s just taken a solid punch.
I was a wreck last night after seeing Brooke. No matter how much I drank, I couldn’t get the image of her fear-filled face out of my mind. She was scared of me. I can live with her hating me; I can live with anything but the fear I saw last night.
“Just because I took what was on offer, doesn’t mean anything else is going to happen between us.” I need to get out of here. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. I can’t believe I fucked up this bad. Opening the door, I don’t waste any more time arguing with her. I had to learn the hard way once before that the only way to get through to this woman is to ignore her. “Lose my number,” I declare.
“You’re going to end up a lonely old man, Tucker Neal.” I don’t know what is worse, her anger from earlier or the pity I see in her eyes now. If a viper like Karlyn feels sorry for me, I’m in worse shape than I realized.
Fuck this. I need to clear my head before I lose my mind. Letting the door slam behind me, I don’t bother to wait for the elevator, heading straight for the stairs instead. I call a cab as I take the steps three at a time, thanking whoever is looking down on me when I see one is just a few minutes away. I don’t bother going home to clean up; instead, I make my way to the one place I know can make me forget all about the bullshit situation I've created for myself.