by Meghan Quinn
I should just end it. I should just thank him for the mind-blowing sex, shake his hand as a peace offering, and be done with it. Easier said than done. But how does one go about doing that when their heart is already invested?
More tears fall, soaking the pillow beneath me. I take in a deep breath and my door opens again and then quickly shuts. I hold my breath as I try to act as still as possible. There’s no movement and I wonder if he entered the room or was just checking my door for squeaky hinges. But I have my answer when I hear him pad across the floor.
He steps to my bed and I wait for his next move. I feel so nervous. Are we about to get into a huge fight? I still as he pulls the covers down and when I think he’s going to turn me over, instead, he climbs into bed behind me and wraps his arm around my waist, burying his head into my hair. He holds me tightly and the feel of his arm around me breaks me apart.
He came back.
Does that mean I’m not just a distraction?
A sob escapes me as I cry into my pillow. Every fear and emotion I’ve been holding back since Logan tore my little bubble apart comes flying out.
“Shhh,” he coos into my ear. The arm that’s wrapped around my waist falls to the hem of my shirt where he snakes his hand under the fabric, and I instantly feel comforted from the skin-on-skin contact. There is nothing sexual about his touch, he doesn’t try to touch my breasts; he just holds me tight.
“I’m s-sorry,” I slightly stutter.
“Don’t be sorry, Emma. Just talk to me.”
“Is Racer still here?”
“Yes. He’s finishing up the fireplace and then taking off.”
I shift so I’m on my back and can see Tucker’s face. “Oh, you should go finish with him. I don’t want you to be rude.”
“Racer’s a big boy. He can handle finishing up on his own. You, on the other hand, I want to know what the hell is depriving me of your beautiful smile.”
My lips purse together as I try to hold back more tears. He’s so sweet and it’s confusing. Is he just being nice because I’m his friend, or is there something else there? I want to believe there is something else. I feel like there is, but then again, I also feel slight resistance in Tucker, as if he hasn’t fully given himself over to me. When I really consider us, that’s what’s concerning, because it all just circles back around to what Logan pointed out.
“Emma, please,” he whispers as his forehead presses against my cheek. “If it’s something I did, I’m sorry. If it’s because of Racer being here, I was just trying to get the living room fixed up to surprise you. I wanted to make it warm and inviting, a place where you can study instead of being locked in your room or at the library all the time. I even bought a coffee table. Fuck, I’ll never have Racer come over again.”
Oh this sweet, sweet man.
“It’s not Racer,” I breathe out.
“Then what is it?” He pulls me in tighter. It’s as if he’s worried that if he lets go, he’ll lose me forever. “Please talk to me, Emma.”
I bite down on my lip for a second and come to the realization that I’m just going to have to talk to him. Be honest. Jesus, be a grown-up.
“I told Logan about us.” The mention of Logan’s name has Tucker sitting up and looking down at me, his hand still around my waist.
“What did he fucking say to you? Did he touch you? I swear to God, I will drop him to the floor so fucking fast.”
I press my hand against Tucker’s chest to calm him down. “He didn’t touch me, Tucker. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, then what the fuck did he say to you? Because clearly whatever he said is why you’re so upset.”
“He was just nervous about your intentions, that’s all.” Okay, he might have said a little more than that but I’m not ready to speak about Sadie, and I know Tucker isn’t as well, hence rule number six.
“About my intentions?” he roars. Oh boy, he’s mad. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Tucker has never liked Logan and now I know he’s never, ever going to like him. “Where does this dickhead come off questioning my relationship with you? He doesn’t even know me; he doesn’t know us.”
“He was just concerned, that’s all.” I try to rub the tension in Tucker’s chest but he doesn’t budge. His muscles are firing up and he’s raking his hand through his hair. He hops out of bed and that’s when I realize he’s only wearing a pair of boxer briefs. He paces the room, anger in every step. Quite frankly, I’m beginning to feel concerned for Logan’s welfare. Shit, I never should have never said anything. I can kiss goodbye study sessions over here with Logan, as there’s no way Tucker will allow him in this house.
“He doesn’t need to be concerned because it’s none of his goddamn business.” Tucker turns toward me, one hand on his hip, the other pulling on the back of his neck. Frustration courses through his body and you can visibly see it in how his body flexes with fury, like he’s about to spin around and punch the living shit out of my wall. “So what did he say? Did he tell you to break up with me? To move in with him so he can take care of you because I’m some fucking monster?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then what did he say?” Tucker asks, anger pouring off him.
Think, Emma. Diffuse this situation. Make it better, because right now it seems like Tucker is about to have an aneurism.
I sit up on the bed and push my back against the wall. “Can you please come sit down, you’re making me nervous.”
His face relaxes and instantly turns into concern with a slice of regret. “Shit,” he mutters and sits down next to me. He pulls me onto his lap so I’m facing him and he places his hands on my hips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous. I’m just . . . fuck. I’m irritated. I don’t like that whatever he said upset you. What we have is between us, Emma, and no one else. “
“What do we have, Tucker?” I ask softly, wanting desperately to hear that he feels the same about me as I do for him.
He lifts my chin and looks me in the eyes. “We have something fucking special. Something that makes me happy. You make me happy, Emma. Everything about you from your smile to your laughter, to your healing touch, I can’t get enough of you.”
I swallow hard. “But don’t you think there are some things between us that are holding us back?”
“Like what?”
Sadie.
Isn’t it obvious? And what about the room I’m not allowed in? But instead of bringing up my best friend, I say, “Your mom, you don’t ever want to talk about her.”
“I don’t,” Tucker agrees. “She’s a vile woman who deserves what’s been handed to her.”
“Don’t you think you should talk about it though? For healing?” I’m totally alluding to something else. Hint, hint, Sadie, but he doesn’t take the bait.
“There is nothing really to talk about, babe.”
“Then why is she on the rules of not to talk about?” HINT, HINT!
He runs both hands over his face and blows out a long breath. “Because, she’s not worth the words. She was a terrible mom. When my dad wasn’t around, she didn’t care that she had a child. There were days where I only had a meal to eat because I scrounged it up from the school or friends helped me out. And when my dad passed, it was all downhill from there. I had to fend for myself. The only good thing that came from my mom was her signing off on me working for Julius at such a young age. Granted, I caught her when she was high as shit, but I got her signature and from there on out, I was self-sufficient. She’s a piece of crap, Emma, not worth talking about.”
I cup his face, my heart breaking for the boy I knew so many years ago. I was either naïve, or totally oblivious to real life, but I never really got the impression that Tucker was fighting to provide for himself as a kid. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed it.”
“You didn’t know. Not many people did. I didn’t wave around my dirty laundry asking for help. I got it where I needed it.”
Aka, Sadie.<
br />
My heart rips apart.
It stings.
How I now wish I was the one who helped him back then, the one who took him in and took care of him, not Sadie.
“Still. I wasn’t a good friend.”
“You’ve always been a good friend, Emma.” He brings his lips to my forehead and kisses me softly. “You’re better than anything I deserve.” He sighs and says, “I’m sorry Logan made you question what we have. I don’t want you worrying, Emma. We’re solid, babe. There is nothing for you to worry about, okay?”
We’re solid, babe.
Nothing to worry about.
His answers seem so simple, and yet, it feels entirely way too complicated.
He brings his mouth close to mine and repeats, “Okay?”
I stare into his soulful eyes. They speak of his intentions, the intentions Logan so blatantly said are ill warranted. But from my point of view, from where I can see it, he’s genuine. And I might regret this, but I nod. “Okay.”
“Are we going to be okay?” His eyes search mine. “Because I’m addicted, Emma. I’m addicted to you and I don’t want anything to stand between us.”
Are we going to be okay?
Can he truly be so oblivious? There is one giant elephant standing between us. How can he not see that? Or is it not an issue because I’ll never . . .
“I know.”
“So we’re good?”
I swallow hard and nod. “We’re good, Tucker.”
He lets out a long breath and then sinks us down on the mattress. He lays me on top of him and strokes my hair with one hand as the other holds me close to his body. His warmth wraps around me and eases some of the building anxiety. There might be some unanswered question on my end, but right now, lying here in Tucker’s arm, I know one thing: I’m addicted to him as well and I’m pretty sure he now holds my heart in his hands. What he does with it is up to him.
I just hope I don’t break.
Chapter Twenty
TUCKER
“Help me with this,” I ask Racer as I try to position the plush cream rug I bought for the living room. The other day I went to Olum’s furniture and dipped into my savings. I purchased some things for our house, hoping to surprise Emma. Again.
“I came to finish up this mantle, not decorate with you,” Racer replies while leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
“Just fucking help me. Christ, dude.”
Racer huffs and walks over to the other side of the rug and helps me position it. “You should do it at an angle, offset the furniture. Gives the room a fun yet cozy feeling.” I lift an eyebrow at him and he shrugs. “Nate Berkus was on Rachel Ray the other day, and he has some good pointers.”
Racer’s celebrity crush is Rachel Ray. He loves her.
“I think straight is fine.”
“Have it your way.”
He helps me move the couch back into position, and then adds the navy blue armchairs I purchased for either side of the rug. Across from the couch, I lined up the new oak buffet that matches the coffee table, and doubles as a TV stand. I brought my TV down from my room and set it up so Emma and I can snuggle on the couch and watch movies, instead of always having to watch things on her computer screen, or in my bed. Although, that had its advantages . . .
And then there’s the dining room. Instead of our card table, which holds some good memories, I purchased a bar-height seven-piece dining room table that takes up the space perfectly and fits in with the rest of the furniture in the house. I topped everything off with a few bunches of fresh peonies around the house because they’re Emma’s favorite. They were a bitch to find. I had to go to a florist.
“I think that does it.” I wipe my forehead and look around the space. Shit, it looks really good in here. “The fireplace came out great, man. Thanks for the help.”
Racer dusts off his fingers on his bare chest and says, “Told you I was the fireplace master.”
He is. He took a dreary brick fireplace and turned it into something slightly rustic with the wood-top mantelpiece. A nice centerpiece for the comfortable living room.
“Are you going to put those somewhere?” Racer points to a few picture frames currently placed on the new dining room table.
“Shit, I almost forgot.” I take the frames to the mantle and line them up, making sure my favorite picture of me kissing Emma’s cheek in Skaneateles is in the middle. That smile; fuck, she’s looks so damn happy. I’m a fucking lucky bastard.
Racer takes it all in and nods. “Yeah, those will score you some brownie points.” He clears his throat and adds, “You like her, like really like her.”
I nod. “Yeah, I fucking do.”
Thoughtfully, Racer runs his hand over his jaw. “Does this mean you can move past Sadie, and redo the nursery?”
Never skipping a beat, Racer gets straight to the point. I don’t blame him though. He’s watched me for over a year try to deal with the backlash. I’m sure he’s ready for me to move on.
“Small steps, man,” I answer, feeling the weight of the nursery now hanging on my shoulders. Last time I was in that room was when I showed it to Sadie. I’m not ready to return, although now, I’m not as sure why. Sadie’s gone. There is no baby . . .
“Okay, but don’t you—” Lights shine in the windows indicating Emma’s return home.
“Shit, you’re not supposed to be here.” I scramble to gather Racer’s tools and his shirt and toss them at him. “I don’t want you acting like a dickhead when she sees it all for the first time.”
“You mean I don’t get to be a part of the grand reveal? After everything I did to help? That’s fucked up, man.”
“You’ll live. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Now fucking move.”
I push him toward the side door just as Emma walks in. She’s wearing a pair of yoga pants and a green Binghamton University sweatshirt. Her hair cascades down over her shoulders and her blue eyes are highlighted with just a hint of mascara. God, she’s so beautiful.
She takes us both in and carefully sets her backpack on the counter. With a pop to her hip she points at both of us and says, “It’s a little concerning that I keep coming home to you two without your shirts on. Is this something I should be worried about?”
“Ha, Tucker wishes.” Racer pushes me and I push him back.
“We were just doing some work,” I answer.
“Yeah, and Prince Charming over here won’t turn the heat down while we’re working because he doesn’t want you to be cold when you get home.”
Emma sweetly smiles at me, stands on her toes and gives me a light kiss on the lips. “Thank you.”
Racer rolls his eyes as I wrap my arm around Emma’s waist. “All right, I’m out. See you tomorrow, dude. Bring the Oatmeal Pies, you owe me.”
I do owe him. We say our goodbyes and when the side door shuts, I grip Emma’s hands and say, “I have something to show you, but you have to close your eyes.”
She closes them and says, “Am I going to open my eyes and see you standing there with your pants down? You don’t have to go to such great lengths to have sex you know, you can just ask.”
“It’s not sex.” I chuckle and guide her into the living room. I angle her in the corner so when she opens her eyes she can take in both the living room and the dining room. I hold her shoulders and take a deep breath; I really hope she likes it.
I lean over her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “Okay, open your eyes, baby.”
“Oh my gosh, Tucker.” She turns to me and then looks around again. “It looks like a magazine in here. Did you do this all by yourself?”
“Racer helped.” I swallow hard. “Do you like it?”
“Do I like it? Are you kidding? It’s gorgeous. It’s so beautiful in here.” She looks around, her fingers caress the armchairs and she leans over and smells the flowers I placed around the two rooms. When she turns back to me, she shakes her head in disbelief. “This is incredible, Tucker.”
I start to walk t
oward her when her eyes look behind me and they start to fill with tears. I follow her line of sight and see that she spotted the pictures I framed of us for the mantle. She walks over to them and I follow closely behind, wrapping my arms around her waist.
She caresses the frames gently, taking her time looking at them.
“I thought it would be nice to have some pictures of us on display.”
She shakes her head and says, “I can’t believe you did all of this.”
“I did it for you,” I whisper. “I want you to be comfortable here. I want a comfortable place for you to study, especially with finals lurking. I want a place where we can snuggle and watch movies together. I want us to have a proper table to eat dinner at, not something that can fold up and fit between a slot between the fridge and the wall.”
“Tucker, from the moment I walked in this house, I’ve been comfortable. I love living here.”
“You do?”
She nods. “I do. I didn’t want you to furnish the house for me. I wanted you to be the one who felt comfortable in this house, to make it your own. Your home.”
I grip her waist and say, “I made it ours. Our home.” And fuck if that isn’t the truth. It’s not a cold, lonely house. It’s a warm, welcoming home. Because of her. I lean down and press a kiss against her lips, loving how her hand instinctively grips the back of my neck to deepen the connection. When I pull away, I drag my thumb over her bottom lip. “I just always want you to be happy, Emma. Always.”
“I am happy, Tucker.”
“Good.” I kiss her forehead and say, “Promise me if you’re ever unhappy, you’ll tell me. No hiding things like that convo with Logan, all right? I want you to come to me, okay?”
“Promise.”
***
“Seriously, hands down, Tom Hanks is the best actor of all time.” Emma lifts off my chest and fidgets with her hair. “He’s so versatile.”
I glance at the TV and then at Emma again. “You’re making that statement after watching The Burbs?”
“I am.” She holds her chin high.
“You know he’s had way better performances, right?”
“I just felt like he was so earthy in this film.”