His arms wrapped slowly around my back and I let out a shaky exhale as he tilted his head and took the kiss deeper. It would be so easy, to let the one moment become two. Then three.
Pull his clothes off and do the same to mine.
It would be easy to let him swing me up into his strong arms and take me to bed, where we’d bury what happened, with his body covering mine.
Tucker pulled away when he sensed me slowing the movements of the kiss and rested his forehead against my own.
“Why do I feel like you’re going to walk out of here and not come back?” he whispered. “I screwed up, Grace, it’s not an excuse, and I can’t change it, but I don’t know what else to do but apologize and promise that I won’t do it again.”
I pressed another kiss to his lips and pulled out of his arms.
His hair was a mess, his lips pink from our kiss. His clothes were wrinkled and there was a mark on the side of his neck, probably from my fingernails. I’d never seen him look so miserably disheveled, and I loved him all the more for it.
But no matter how much I did, no matter how deeply I knew he was it for me, I needed to love myself too. I needed to know that in this moment, when it counted, I made sure that I was taking care of me.
“I forgive you, Tucker,” I said quietly. “But I need you to do more than just … promise not to do it again. I need you to choose me.”
His mouth fell open, and I turned toward my car, my keys clutched in my hand so hard that I couldn’t believe I didn’t puncture the skin of my palm.
My whole body shook from how difficult it was to walk away from him.
But I did.
“Stupid, stupid love curse,” I whispered just before I yanked my car door open.
“What did you say?” he asked.
I froze. There was no way he heard me. No possible way he would’ve known what it meant.
I looked over my shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
He gave me a thoughtful look, jaw tight and shoulders tense. But he didn’t stop me when I climbed into my seat and closed the door quietly.
And as soon as my car cleared the driveway, I let the tears fall.
Chapter 52
Grace
Things I'd learned in the last forty-eight hours:
-You could actually cry yourself to sleep (I didn't recommend it, but it was physically possible)
-Your body could feel sore from laying on the couch and binging crappy reality TV shows
-If you put a note on the door that said 'unless you're leaving food at the door, go away' people would grudgingly leave you alone
-Family love curses were complete and utter bullshit
I sniffed, leaning to look for the remote where I'd last seen it on the floor. There were balled up tissues and empty ice cream cartons, crumpled up bags of potato chips and a half-empty box of Sour Patch Kids.
My body was pumped full of sugar, salt, and sadness.
My phone was on silent, though my mom had tried to call a few times, probably because my brother tattled on me.
Flopping onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling and tried desperately to give myself a pep talk.
Objectively, I knew I didn't need Tucker to survive, nor did he inherently raise my value as a person. On my own, I was worthy of being loved, and worthy of happiness and respect.
But holy hell, it was like I'd carved out my heart and left it beating on the concrete.
A fresh wave of tears tipped over onto my cheeks, and I swiped frantically to get rid of them.
There was a knock on the door, which I ignored.
A shadow darkened the window, tall enough to be either my dad or brother, and I rolled over, shoving a pillow on top of my head so I didn't have to see whoever it was.
When the door swung open, I yanked the pillow away. "Hey, that was locked."
My dad sighed, taking in the scene in front of him like there was a chalk outline of a body on the floor or something. "Yeah, well, it's an easy enough lock to pick. I'll have to talk to Robert about that. You need a deadbolt."
"I need privacy."
Behind him was Grady, gaping at me in horror. "Holy shit, you look terrible."
"Thanks." I sat up and stared blankly at both of them. "What do you want?"
"Come on, Gracey B," my dad said and held out a hand. "Time to get up and get moving. Your brother is going to start a shower, and I'll make food."
The empty potato chip bag crinkled loudly as he stepped on it. I pointed at the floor. "I've eaten."
"Real food."
They both stared down at me, and the sight of them, big and tall and concerned, made me sniffle pathetically. My eyes burned, and the bridge of my nose felt tingly.
"Ohh, no, no," Grady said. "No more leaky faucet, okay? You've had a couple of days to cry, and now it's time to shower and not smell like that homeless dude who used to live in front of your apartment building."
"I don't smell like Leonard," I argued.
He considered that with a tilt of his head. "Eh, it's close. Come on, up you go."
With one hand in my dad's and Grady on the other side holding my elbow, I stood from the couch. As soon as I was up, my dad wrapped me in a tight hug, which I returned immediately. Grady smiled when I heaved a trembling sigh.
"Thanks, Dad," I whispered, turning my face to kiss his cheek.
His face flushed red when I pulled away. "Well, I don't know the whole story, but your brother told me a little bit. I don't have a whole lot of experience with breakups, but I do know how to make pancakes and bacon, and that's as good a plan as any." He rubbed my back. "Go shower, Gracey B. You stink to high heaven."
When I came out of the steaming bathroom twenty minutes later, my wet hair braided off my face and wearing fresh clothes, the wreckage of the last two days was cleared out, and the air smelled like bacon. A stack of pancakes sat on a white plate, as my dad and brother worked in the small kitchen, talking quietly as they did.
I plopped onto a stool, snatching two pieces of hot bacon. "Festival starts in two days," I said.
My dad nodded. "Sure does."
"I'm supposed to stand next to him all day." I snapped a piece in half before eating another piece. "I don't know how I'm supposed to do that."
"You could drink," Grady suggested. "Like, all day. Just start drinking when you get there and don't stop until you've kissed every single Green Valley resident who decides to fork over their hard-earned cash to do so."
I stared. "You are not helpful in the slightest."
My dad chuckled.
"So what did he tell you?" I asked Dad, pointing at Grady with the bacon.
Grady snatched it out of my hand and ate it in two bites. "That Tucker needs his ass kicked."
"He doesn't need a beating, you Neanderthal."
My dad held up a hand. "I got the Cliffs Notes. Tucker's your guy, you believe in this curse nonsense, and he didn’t tell you about a few things that he should’ve told you."
The bacon tasted ashy in my mouth at how succinct it all was when someone else laid it out. "That about sums it up."
My dad's bushy eyebrows lifted briefly over his eyes. "You know I’m always gonna take your side, Gracey. But I know what it’s like to wish you said the right thing or took more care in how you phrased things when you’re caught off guard." Another golden pancake joined the stack, steam curling from the surface. I picked it up slowly, dropping it onto my plate while my dad poured more batter onto the hot griddle. While I smeared butter over the fluffy pancake, Grady slid the bottle of syrup close.
“Can I use your laptop real quick?” he asked.
“I don’t care,” I told him. Seriously. Like I cared about him checking his email while I was trying to glean life wisdom from my father about my relationship issues.
"You think I was wrong to leave?" I asked.
Dad shrugged. "Not saying anyone was wrong, or anyone was right. I wasn’t there, and I’m not going to condemn the m
an because he coulda handled things better."
“I’m not condemning him either,” I pointed out. “I still love him.”
Grady’s fingers paused over the keyboard as he looked at me. “So you don’t want me to take a steel pipe to his balls?”
I cut him a look. “You can wait on that.”
“I’m just sayin,” my dad continued, flipping the pancake without moving his eyes from my face. “Men do stupid things sometimes. We can’t help it.”
“And women don’t?” Grady asked.
“Of course they do,” my dad answered. “Your mom would be the first to admit she was responsible for her fair share in our marriage.”
I chewed slowly as I thought about the two of them. Not suited for each other, in any way, really. Tucker and I were suited. Really, exceptionally, heart-burstingly suited. But I didn’t know how to ignore how he’d made me feel. How the entire situation made me feel, even the parts I was responsible for.
“What do you want out of this, Gracey B?” Dad asked. He flipped the griddle off and leaned against the counter.
“I want to be with him.” I sighed. “But I want to know that he wants to be with me just as badly. That he’d sacrifice for me, the way I would for him.”
“What about the curse?” Grady asked.
“What about it?”
“It’s weird though, right? Like you don’t have a choice in wanting that.”
I tapped the tines of the fork against my lips while I thought. My tongue darted out to catch the syrup that was still sticking to the cold metal. “I don’t know. I think … I think that I do. If I left Green Valley,” I paused and swallowed, “I’d be able to find someone who could make me happy. I could find someone that would love me. I’d just always know that Tucker could make me happier. That Tucker is the one I’d love the most. If I could live with that, then yeah, I always have a choice.”
They were quiet as they processed that, the two men in my life that knew me the best. Neither one believed in the Buchanan curse, and I couldn’t blame them. And they probably couldn’t understand why I’d even consider leaving Green Valley, not that I had my bags packed or anything.
I’d come to love this town, even if it wasn’t quite in love with me. Another thing that I had to accept, at least for the time being.
“I still think that whole thing is horseshit,” my dad mumbled.
I laughed, and oh, it felt good after a few days of serious wallowing. “Just wait, Pops. Maybe some silver fox will move into town and you’ll be forced to admit that we were right all along.”
He laughed so hard it made me jump, but Grady chuckled under his breath too. When he closed my laptop, he was shaking his head.
“You two laugh,” I warned, “but all it takes is one person, and you’ll be right in the muck and mire with a lovesick heart like me.”
“Yuck,” Grady said under his breath. He gave me a hug from behind. “I’m outta here. I’ve got some errands to run. You can help Pops clean up since I delivered him to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”
After he left, and the dishes were being washed, I watched my dad dry off the skillet. “Do you think it’s a bad idea to want that? To still be with him?”
“I think if it’s what you want, it’s not a matter of right or wrong, honey.”
What a dad-like answer. I sighed dramatically. “Well if you’re going to be rational …”
Overlooking the dramatics, he gave me a stern look. “And you shouldn’t be making any decisions because you’re worried about me or my job, young lady.”
“Clearly, I was right to worry. Look at what he did to the Haywoods.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know Magnolia’s momma,” he pointed out. “Bobby Jo is good people. J.T. knows better than to go muckin’ around in her store. If he comes after me there, you let me worry about it. Got it?”
I nodded.
He chuckled at my miserable expression, slinging an arm around my shoulder for a squeeze. “I think if you love him, really love him, then it’s okay to want it.” His hands, rough from years of back-breaking work, cupped my arms and turned me to face him. “But only if he treats you, loves you, respects you the way that you deserve. If my daughter can have a man like that in her life, then I’ll always root for him too. Just like I am for you.”
I slid forward to hug him tightly, and he kissed the top of my head.
“I’m glad I moved here, Pops,” I told him. “Sometimes a girl just needs her dad.”
He didn’t answer right away, but his arms squeezed tightly, and my hair ruffled when he exhaled noisily. “I’m glad you did too. Sometimes a man needs his daughter, Gracey.”
I thought back, for the first time since it happened, to that phone call from the night before I left. The one I’d revisit more than once in my head, as I tried to sort out how I got to that point.
“I guess I didn’t really show Green Valley that I was a force to be reckoned with, did I?”
He pulled away so he could look at me. “Honey, I don’t count you out for a second. I have a feeling you’re just getting started.”
Chapter 53
Tucker
I must have had a sign over my head, a giant cosmic warning in blood-red neon, because as I hammered and painted and built that fucking kissing booth, everyone gave me a wide berth.
"That wood do something to piss you off, Haywood?"
A glance over my shoulder, and I glowered heavily at Maxine.
"Ooh, honey, I haven't gotten a look that dirty since before my husband died. You might want to be careful who you're aiming that toward."
My shoulders slumped heavily, and I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt. "I'm sorry, Miss Barton. My mood is, uh, a bit prickly."
"Mmmhmm, I can tell." She glanced at the mess around me. "You gonna have this ready to go tomorrow? This is a big-ticket item, you know. I've heard people talking about it everywhere I go. Makes me glad I don't give a rat's ass if people think it's a bad idea."
I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "I want to be like you when I grow up, Ms. Barton, I can tell you that much."
"Trust me, you don't. People tolerate me because they think I'm scary, but the truth is that I'm just a normal person who stopped caring about what people said about me."
"Probably a smart choice," I said. Pulling another nail from the front pocket of my jeans, I wedged it in my mouth and fixed the red, glittery sign onto the top of one post. A few taps, and it was in, and I moved to the other side, giving it the same treatment. Maxine stayed quiet behind me, but I felt her watchful gaze on me as I worked.
"Your sour mood have something to do with Miss Buchanan?"
The hammer paused mid-swing, and I took a deep breath, refocused my energy, and tried not to nail my thumb down.
As if I could narrow down my mood to two words like that. Something to do with her, yes.
It was her.
How badly I screwed up.
It was my parents.
My job.
Everything.
I still hadn’t been able to face my momma after what happened in the garage. I wasn’t ready to explain what happened after she left, because I had every intention of fixing it, and the last thing I needed was for her to draw an entirely new, negative impression of Grace.
Because simmering under the surface of everything—my job, my parents, the whole damn situation—was Grace. How badly I missed her.
“Can I help you with something related to this booth, Maxine? Because I’ve got work to do.”
She whistled. “You called me by my first name, young man. You must be cranky to forget the manners your momma raised you with.”
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. Shame didn’t go down easily when you tried to swallow it, which I’d learned pretty clearly the last two and a half days. I was miserable, and no doubt Grace was miserable too, but I still couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to fix the mess of my own making.
And I had to figure out how to choose her, the right way. Not in the way that was convenient or caused the least amount of damage.
“I’ll take that as your second apology,” she said.
“Appreciate that.” The hammer made a few last taps, and I stepped off the ladder to face her. “I’m almost done, then I’ll stay clear of everyone until I’m due here tomorrow.”
The fairgrounds were transformed, an organized beehive of chaos, with Maxine and her purple clipboard as the queen. Workers were setting up rides and unloading trailers for the petting zoo, food trucks set up small patio tables for hungry attendees, and vendors propped up tents and tables to sell their wares. The smell of popcorn already permeated the air, erasing the fresh scent that I loved so much. The one that Grace wanted to bottle and take with her if she ever left.
Pain flew sharp and fast through my chest, just like it did any time I thought about her for too long. If I thought about her hurt, thought about the things she said, or the things I did, no matter how justified they felt at the time, I struggled to keep my temper in check. There was nothing around me that would withstand the force of that.
And if I didn’t think of something, anything, I’d have to stand on my half of the booth, separated by a flimsy white picket fence, and watch men line up for a brief hug, a kiss on the cheek, or more.
“Here are the tickets,” Maxine said, pulling a spool of generic festival tickets from a bag attached to the side of her walker. “I’ll have one high schooler for each of you, taking money and handing these out. Based on what you told me, one ticket is a hug, two is a kiss on the cheek, and three is a peck on the mouth. The fishbowl back there is for your TV drawing.”
I took the roll of tickets, tested its weight in my hand. “I already hate these things and we haven’t even started.”
The words came out quietly, and I’m not sure I intended her to hear, but I should’ve known that she’d have the ears of a bat.
The Love at First Sight Box Set Page 46