by Lauren Runow
Chapter Sixteen
Tucker
I turn the wrench and drop it for the third time today.
“Damn it,” I say in frustration.
“You okay over there, Tucker?” Beau shouts over the car he’s working on.
“Yeah.” I let out a breath, rubbing my hand. “Just having an off day.”
More like an off couple of months, I want to say but keep that part to myself.
My grip hasn’t been what it used to be, and when I try to tighten something, I haven’t been able to lately.
Reaching back under the hood, I try again and fail—again. Not wanting to call attention to it, I grunt to myself and keep attempting what I’m doing until I finally get it.
Standing back up, I wipe my hands, opening and closing my fists to see if I feel anything weird.
I just don’t understand why my hand would do such a thing.
Moving on, I try my hardest to finish the oil change I’m working on, so I can get out of here and go fishing with my son.
“Are you still dropping stuff?” I hear Matthew say as he walks in the garage after I dropped a tool for what seems like the hundredth time.
“Don’t make fun of your old man,” I say in response.
“Old is right!” he teases.
I give him the eye, and he holds up his hands in defeat.
“You ready to go though?”
“Yeah, just let me finish up, and I’ll meet you out front.”
“Cool. See you later, Beau.” Matthew waves to Beau from the front office, and he waves back.
I put away my tools and clean up my space before heading toward the front. “I’m out of here too. Do you need anything before I go?” I ask Beau.
“I’m good. Thanks though. Go on with your son. I’ll close up.”
I nod my head. “Thanks, man. Have a great night.”
“You guys too.”
I head out to where Matthew is already sitting next to my truck. Opening the door, I take the opportunity to change my shirt from the grease-stained uniform I wear to an old George Strait concert tee I had in the back before I hop in.
“You ready to catch some fish?” I ask my son, probably more excited than I should be. What can I say though? I’m always happy when I get to hang out with my boy. My dad used to take me fishing, and I love getting to pass this tradition on to my son.
“I’m ready,” he says with a slight laugh, making fun of me.
I crank the engine and pull out of the parking spot, heading to our favorite spot down the creek.
Pulling off the road, I make my way through the dirt path that I’ve driven a thousand times.
As I park, I turn to Matthew, who has his sight glued to his phone as his fingers race across the screen.
“Who are you texting?” I ask.
He holds up the phone and shows me. “Not texting. I’m on Snapchat.”
I see the conversation he has going that seems exactly like a text thread and look back to him. “But you’re basically texting. Why not just do it through your phone’s Messages app? Why use Snapchat?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever, Dad. You’ll never get it.”
I let out a hard laugh. “You’re right. Because I didn’t have this shit when I was your age.” I take it from his hand and put it in the glove box. “Now, let’s go without devices while we’re here.”
“Sure, if you leave yours too.”
He holds out his hand, and for the first time, I think I understand what it means to have a slight addiction to your phone.
My instant thought is, What if Justine calls?
Knowing I have to do as I say and not as I do when it comes to being on my phone when we’re together, I take it from the cupholder and put it in the glove box, checking it one last time to make sure I don’t miss anything.
Before I think twice about it, I jump out of the car and grab my tackle box from the back. Matthew joins me with our poles, and we head toward the creek. We find our favorite spot, where two boulders sit so we can set our stuff on them instead of having to lean down and feed our lures.
Once we’re both set and we have our lines in the water, I turn to him. “So, what’s new?”
“Nothing with me, but I keep hearing people talk about you.”
“Oh jeez, enough about me. What’s going on with Hannah?”
“We’re good. She’s good.”
“Any talk about college?”
I worry that they might be getting a little too close for their age. I don’t know what her plans are, but I don’t want him to not follow his dreams because he’d rather be with her. If he gets a scholarship to a college to play baseball, he’s going, no matter what.
“She’s looking into a few.”
“The ones that you’re hoping to go to or her own?”
He eyes me. “Does that matter?”
“Yeah, it does. Your mom and I married young—too young. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
“Dad, you don’t need to compare us to you and Mom. I know you regret settling down like you did.”
I face him fully, so he knows how serious I am. “I don’t regret settling down with your mom one bit. And I didn’t settle. We chose to get married that young. We didn’t know any better. But we didn’t get to live our lives or learn who we were as people. That’s all I’m saying. Plus, she gave me you. Even with the divorce and how hard that was, I love my life and wouldn’t want it any other way.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, and I turn to face the lake.
“Okay, maybe that one thing could have been different. But that’s behind us now. I just know you want more than what Mason Creek can offer. I want to see you follow your dreams. Even if that means you leave me.”
He places his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll always come back to go fishing with you.”
I grin his way and take in the mini me I created. He’s grown up to be such a great boy, and now, he’s almost a man. I couldn’t be prouder of him.
“Besides, with Justine around, you might not want me around as much.” He smirks.
I nudge him with my shoulder. Knowing he’s talking about my sex life is weird, but he’s probably right. I guess this is the next stage in my life. One without a son I have to worry about. Where I get to explore what I want above anything else and not have to wonder if I’m setting a bad example for him.
Chapter Seventeen
Tucker
As I look out at the crowd that’s gathered to see us perform, I search for Justine. I didn’t feel right, having her in the mess of partiers by herself, but she insisted. She didn’t want to see the show from behind us. She wanted to experience it with the other people.
I can understand why since the vibe is down there, on the dance floor, but it still makes me uneasy.
Tonight, we’re playing in Billings, Montana, at a country bar that’s four times the size of Pony Up. This place has a real stage, a dance floor that can hold over one hundred people who are line-dancing at the same time, and a bar that wraps entirely around the dance floor. To add to that, there’s a second story that looks over the entire place.
This is by far my favorite place to play, but I’ve seen things get a little rowdy, and I just hope nothing happens tonight with Justine in the crowd.
I find her standing at the back of the room, sipping on her beer. I take the moment to stare at her when I know she won’t catch me watching. The way her brown hair is curled and flowing around her face with her lips looking so plump and kissable, I swear she makes my heart pump like nothing else.
“What are you looking at?” John, my drummer, asks. When he peeks over my shoulder and sees her sitting there, he steps back with a slight chuckle. “Damn, man. You do have it bad. Is she a cool chick?”
I close the curtain with an exhale. “Yeah. She’s getting to me, you know?”
He nods. “I know. Glad to see someone’s finally caught your attention. You ready?”
“Let’s do this.” I cl
ap my hands together and grab my guitar.
My other bandmates, Timmy and Donny, join us as we walk out onto the stage, and applause erupts.
“Hey, Billings! Thanks for coming out tonight to see us! We’re The Tucker Simms Band, and I don’t know about you, but tonight, I think I want some more of it,” I shout as I start to sing “I Like It, I Love It” by Tim McGraw.
The audience screams as people rush to the dance floor, ready to let loose and enjoy the night.
Seeing Justine dance her way to the front puts a huge smile on my face as I move around the stage. Having her here lifts my spirits more than I ever thought possible. Being onstage has always felt like my happy place, but having her here feels more like heaven.
She dances around, and goddamn, she’s sexier than ever.
We continue to play, and this night is quickly becoming one I’m going to remember forever. The audience is on fire, and the entire place is electric with this fierce energy that’s bouncing off the walls.
After a few faster songs, we slow it down a bit to show the couples some love and maybe help a few guys get laid tonight by playing “I Can Love You Like That” by John Michael Montgomery.
The couples pair off as the singles leave the dance floor in search of another drink. My eyes are glued to Justine’s as I sing the song for her. I love the way she sways to the music, not bothered at all that she’s the only girl by herself. To both of us right now, it’s just her and me. All of these other people don’t matter.
I get through the first chorus when a guy approaches her from behind, placing his hands on her waist and getting way too close.
She steps out of his grip and politely denies his advances, which just makes me smile more.
Sorry, dude. She’s mine.
The guy doesn’t get the hint, and he tries again. I watch as she tells him no again, only this time, he spins her around so she’s facing him. I can’t see her face, but the way she’s putting up her hands on his chest and pushing him away has me fuming with anger over someone I don’t even know.
When she turns to face me, I see the way she’s frustrated that he won’t leave her alone.
I stop playing completely, and the guy doesn’t get the hint.
My band slowly stops as well when I yell into the microphone, “Hey, get your hands off of her!”
This guy must be really drunk because he’s oblivious to anything happening around him. When he wraps his arm around her waist and roughly brings her body against his, my blood starts to boil, and I see nothing but red.
I jump off the stage and rush toward him.
Grabbing his shoulder, I waste no time when I pull him off of her and sock him right in the nose. He falls to the floor, but I don’t care.
Reaching down, I pull him up by his shirt with one arm and swing with the other. Hit after hit, I see nothing but red.
Absolute rage takes me over. My heart pounds as all reason leaves my body. No one around exists. I’m not at a concert, and my band is no longer here. All I can think is to not stop until this guy gets the hint.
I feel people trying to stop me, but they’re no match for the anger flowing through me.
“Tucker!” I hear Justine yell. “Stop, Tucker. Stop!”
Hearing her voice snaps me out of my heat and back to reality where I suddenly realize what’s happening. What I’m doing.
I step back and take a breath. When I look down, I see the guy is covered in blood.
I glance around at everyone staring at me as Donny checks to see if the guy is okay and who he’s here with.
Justine just glares at me, her eyes wide open and her hands over her mouth. If I was the mad one before, she’s taken the proverbial stick from me and holds the top spot as head of the pissed off circle within this place.
I put my head down in shame, realizing I just did what I’d promised myself I would never do.
And I can’t believe I did it again.
Donny grabs me, pulling me away from the crowd in case any of the guy’s friends decide to retaliate. I’m completely exasperated, and my chest is pounding like a motherfucking freight train that I can’t get control over.
When we get backstage, the owner comes racing up to me. “What the hell was that?”
John speaks up, defending me, “That guy was attacking his girl.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he was doing. You can’t jump off my stage and beat some drunk guy up. Now, pack your shit and get out of here. You’re not getting a dime from me tonight, and you are never welcome back here ever again!”
“Nice to hear you don’t mind if your female patrons are being attacked. Maybe you need to beef up security,” John yells as he storms off.
I plop my ass in a chair, burying my head in my hands as I grunt and then punch the couch next to me. When I get control, I slowly breathe in and out, knowing the first thing I have to do. I look to my bandmates and say, “Sorry. I … I don’t know what came over me.”
Timmy shakes his head. “Don’t be. I saw what he was doing. If that had been my wife out there, I’d have done the same thing. I just hope this chick’s worth it. Come on.” He hits John’s arm, signaling to help him start packing up.
I can hear the crowd still hanging out, wondering if we’ll come back on. When the owner turns on the DJ booth that was supposed to start after our show, they figure out it’s over.
I fucked things up pretty bad tonight.
Justine comes rushing behind the stage. Her hair is a mess, like she’s been running her hands through it. “What the hell was that?”
I take a deep breath and stand up, so I can face her like a man. “I’m sorry. With his hands on you I saw red.”
“I’ve lived in New York for the past ten years. I know how to deal with a drunk guy.”
“Do you?” My words are unintentionally callous. “I saw the way you backed up from that man. I saw the fear on your face.”
“Yes,” she spits out with fire in her eyes.
“You might have figured a way out of the situation, but you shouldn’t have to. Not with me around.”
I look at her with a serious bite to my jaw. She might think she can protect herself, but I know what she just went through. My girl’s heart is as strong as a bull, but the rest of her is fragile like a lamb.
“I only wanted to protect you.”
“Tucker, this is not okay. You can’t jump off the stage and ruin the show for everyone out there because some guy tried to dance with me. I was just getting comfortable with being in my own skin. Comfortable being with you. This is why I didn’t want to tell you or anyone what happened. I don’t want to be treated like a victim. I need to work through what happened because when I move back, I am all I have to protect myself. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I can’t rely on anyone, especially a man.”
She turns away, and I rush up to her side.
“Justine, you know I would never do anything to put you in harm’s way.”
“Do you think putting me in the middle of a bar fight was protecting me? And what about you? What if that guy had had a knife? What if his friends had jumped in? You could have been hurt, and then I would have thought it was my fault. There are ways to handle situations like that, and violence is not one of them.”
“I know. I was wrong.” I stare into her eyes and see the way she’s narrowing hers and pursing her lips, her breathing strong and steady.
All I can think about is the last time I got in a fight. I thought that was the only way then too. Looking back, I know it could have been handled differently, and I thank God every day that it didn’t get any worse. I know I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if it did.
I try to think of what to say to explain my actions a little more when John does it for me. “You can’t blame the guy. Don’t forget what happened with his wife. You’re the first girl he’s dated since.”
She snaps her eyes back on me, and I drop my head again. I’m not sure if I wanted her to know my past. It’s no
thing I’m proud of. I’m glad we’ve all moved on, but I can’t deny that while I saw his hands on her, flashes from my past crossed my mind, no matter how much I tell myself that I was stopping that guy for her reasons, not mine.
Thankfully, she purses her lips in thought, not saying a word.
I reach my hand out to grab hers. “I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did, but when we get back to the hotel, I’ll try to explain what was going through my head, okay?”
The nice hotel I wanted to treat her to, so I could make love to her all night long.
I fucked that up.
She closes her eyes and nods as she crosses her arms in front of her body.
“Let me help the guys pack up the gear and get them on the road, and then we’ll head to the hotel,” I say in a soft tone.
She nods, and I head back to the stage, walking through in my head how I’m going to tell her all about my past.
Chapter Eighteen
Tucker
We’re silent in the car. I can see the wheels turning in Justine’s head, but this is not a conversation I want to have when I need to focus on driving.
Pulling into the parking lot, I grab my guitar from the back. Thankfully, we already checked in, so we both head straight to the elevator without a word said between us.
When we get to the room, I unlock the door and hold it open for her. She walks through and heads straight for the bathroom. She begins to get ready to take a shower, which I’m sure is to just get space from me.
Grabbing her hand to stop her, I set down my guitar and lead her to the bed, guiding her to sit down as I squat in front of her.
I run my palms up her thighs, down her arms, and hold on to her hands that are gripping the comforter. She’s staring down and to the side. I wish she were looking at me. I know this body language. This is the Justine I met weeks ago, who kept herself shielded from the outside world. I want my tough girl back. The one who wasn’t afraid to stare at me in the eyes.