Eyes Wide Open (Healing Hearts #2)

by Renee Dyer

  I spend the night watching my friends. I enjoy myself too, but I find myself taking in the differences around me. Adriana and Preston have changed the most. The worried crinkles around Preston’s eyes have smoothed out and he sits relaxed by Alahna’s side. I can tell he’s still tense and unsure about Tucker being in Adri’s life, but he likes Tucker too. The confusion about how to deal with his feelings is all over his face. Dee and Kale are over the moon about the baby. They just found out they’re having a girl and Kale hasn’t stopped talking about finally getting his daddy’s girl. Blake is a tad tipsy and keeps telling everyone how he’s marrying the hottest woman on the planet. I smile every time he says it because he makes me feel that way so often.

  As much as all of them are fun to watch, the ones who I keep getting drawn to the most are Tucker and Adri. They work the room, talking to everybody, playing the good hosts, but they always find their way back to each other. I don’t think they stay away from each other for more than a few minutes at a time. It’s like they need each other’s touch. I’m not sure if anyone else sees the way they gravitate toward one another, but I’m delighted by it. It’s about time my girl is finding her happily ever after. Things weren’t always so for her.

  I try to force back the thoughts of Adri in her depressive state, but I can’t. She was lost to us for so long that those images remain imprinted on my brain. I feel like I failed her all that time she couldn’t find her way back to the light of living. I tried to help her. I even set her up with a therapist in my firm that specializes in grief counseling, but after a few months, she walked away saying it wasn’t for her. I remember that day like it just happened. Fear took over in my heart that Adri would never come back to us.

  I went over to watch Supernatural with her that night and like I always did, I asked her how her session went. I never asked for details or asked her to tell me what was said, just kept it vague. She told me she quit therapy. I should have reacted better to her words. I’m trained to handle things better, but I asked her why on earth she would do that, told her she needed to be seeing a therapist. I tried to explain to her that her depression and PTSD would never get better if she didn’t start trying to work though it and the best way to do that was with a therapist. It was far from my finest moment, but I panicked.

  She looked at me with disgust in her eyes. Adri had never looked at me that way. Adri had always been filled with love and kindness, but the person in front of me wasn’t the Adri I knew. She started screaming at me that she was sick of therapists throwing labels around. Did we really think throwing all these diagnoses at her would make her want to sit in an office? Did I know her co-worker had given her three different diagnoses? Yes, he had told her she was depressed, suffered from PTSD and survivor’s guilt. With all that working against her, why the hell should she ever get the fuck out of bed? Her face was red, rage contorting her features.

  I tried to calmly explain why I agreed with him and she lost it. She told me that therapists are a bunch of fucking quacks who talk out of their asses just to charge people too much money and make themselves feel superior. I was in shock. Adri used to tell me she thought what I did was amazing, but here she was, verbally slapping me in the face for trying to help her. As much as that hurt, it hurt a thousand times worse when she kicked me out of her house and told me to not come back until I understood that she was perfect the way she was, without any fucking labels. She wouldn’t let me say anything else, just ushered me to the door.

  I didn’t hear from her for a couple weeks. None of us did. I broke down and did something I never do. I gathered up our friends and I told them what happened, feeling like shit the whole time. I’m not the type to talk about people behind their backs. Useless bitches, who aren’t real friends do that. You know your real friends in life because what they have to say, they’ll say to your face. But, I was afraid I had caused her damage that I couldn’t fix. So, I ratted my ass out to the group.

  Pres surprised me the most. He told me he’d talk to her. It didn’t surprise me that he stepped up to talk to her. It surprised me that he wasn’t screaming in my face, angry for breaking her more. Since Alex died, she would check out for days, maybe a week at a time, only sending texts, but this was definitely the longest she had gone not speaking to any of us. And, that was on me. I pushed her knowing that people who suffer from these conditions are similar to addicts. They have to decide within themselves that they want treatment. They have to make the decision to take charge of their life and get better. Adri wasn’t at that point and I shouldn’t have pushed. I should have allowed her to grieve and come back to us on her own. In my selfishness of needing my friend back, I forgot all the years of schooling and training and did everything I knew I shouldn’t do. I caused her to shut down more.

  Admitting that to my friends hurt.

  I try to stay in the here and now, enjoying the frivolity going on before me. Adri is so much better than she was, but I know that she still has a long road ahead of her. You don’t just walk away from the extremes she was at and come out on the other side without setbacks. I know there will be triggers that are going to send her spiraling again. I only hope that what she has with Tucker is enough to show her that life is worth fighting for this time. Right now, she’s like a smoker quitting cold turkey. I’d love for her to be the small percentage that makes it without help, but the odds are that she’ll need intervention. I’ve seen it too many times and I’m afraid for her. Afraid for Tucker, too.

  I know I have to sit back and watch how this plays out. It’s frustrating for me. I want to jump in, give advice, counsel Adri, but I made that mistake before in my life. And, I’m not talking about Adri this time. I helped a friend, well I tried to, and I wasn’t enough. There’s a reason friends don’t counsel friends. You’re too close to the situation. You miss details. And those details are often the most important ones.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Adriana

  It was an incredible weekend with Tucker, far too short, but I still get to admire his profile and hold his hand as he drives us back to my house. I have one more night with him before he heads back to Vancouver tomorrow. I keep telling myself not to think about him leaving, to enjoy every moment that he’s here, but I can’t help the sadness that creeps in every now and again, knowing his visits are always too short. I can tell he has the same thoughts by the set of his jaw. He smiles when he notices I’m looking at him, but he gets serious when he thinks I’m not.

  He’s dreading our goodbye as much as I am.

  That thought, for some weird reason, cheers me up a little. I don’t want him to be upset or miserable in anyway, but knowing he doesn’t want to leave me makes my heart sing. My thoughts roam to what it would be like if he lived here in New Hampshire or if I moved to L.A. or Vancouver. I know right now he spends most of his time in Vancouver because of the show, but he said his house is in L.A. He just rents a place in Vancouver because shows fall by the wayside all the time.

  Could I leave my life behind to be with him?

  I know I care about him. Hell, I love him. But, am I in love with him? This is the question that haunts me. I know love isn’t always easy. That’s what my mom tells me, but she also tells me I’ll know. I’ll know it in my heart. My heart is happy when he’s around, but is that me being in love with him? Am I thinking too hard about this? Am I thinking myself out of being in love with him? Am I still a little too messed up over Alex?

  I’ve been doing better. I’ve put away a lot of the pictures of him. I’ve visited his grave a few times. Each time, it’s been easier to tell him about Tucker. I told Alex that Tucker is the man in my life. I told him my confusion over my feelings for Tucker. I always feel better after my talks with Alex. Talking to him, telling him the truth, makes me feel like it’s okay for me to move on.

  But, I still don’t know how I know if I’m in love with Tucker.

  I feel like a child needing her hand held to walk across the street, expecting someone to answer this
for me. I don’t know why I’m so confused. I love spending time with him. I love watching him, the way his lip quirks up on one side in a half smile when he must be thinking of something funny and doesn’t realize he’s kind of smiling, watching his blue eyes twinkle when he gets an idea, especially the way they darken when he wants me. I love how he holds me and makes me feel safe. I love how he never holds back and tells me what he thinks. He’s honest to a fault. But, does all of this constitute being in love?

  “You’re going to put a hole through your lip you keep that up.”

  “Hmm,” I murmur, not really paying attention to what he’s saying.

  His hand reaches over and pulls my bottom lip from between my teeth. I hadn’t realized I was biting at it; I was so lost in thought. “Whatcha thinking about so hard over there? Trying to figure out your birthday gift?” he asks, smirking at me.

  I chuckle because that is so far from what I was thinking. I don’t answer and let him draw his own conclusions. “Want to play the license plate game?” I see his eyebrow raise, but he shrugs so I continue, “It’s simple. Make words or sayings from the plates. If you can make a funny story to go along with it, even better.”

  “This is what you do for fun?” he asks. “I can think of something much more fun involving my lap and your lips…” He lets his words hang out there, tension thick in the air. I swallow, loudly, the noise earning a small laugh from him. Bastard. I hate when he knows he gets to me. “Alright, let’s play your game, since you’re not feeling mine.”

  I blush at the word, feeling and feel like an imbecile. I’m twenty-seven years old and he just reduced me to a child, blushing over him talking about me feeling his dick. Son of a bitch. How does he always manage to work me up like this? Instead of giving in to him, I stare around at the license plates around us, desperately needing to find a plate I can talk about so I can stop thinking about unzipping his pants and wrapping my lips around him, show him that I’m not flustered by him. Problem is, I am flustered.

  “Ooh, there’s one,” I clap and point to a car next to us. “Late for date,” I say as I read L84D8 on a silver CX9. “That makes me think of the white rabbit in the Alice and Wonderland movie from when I was a kid. Do you remember him jumping around—I’m late, I’m late for an important date.” I giggle at myself acting all frantic like that silly rabbit. Tucker gives me a look of, “What the hell?” and laughs along with me.

  “Topless,” he blurts out after a few minutes.

  “I know you would like me topless and sucking your dick, but that has nothing to do with the license plate game, Tucker.” I smile and try to look at the cars driving by, but his laughter rumbling through the car has me staring at him and his dimple.

  “Ah, sweetness. Hell yes, I would love to have you topless and sucking my dick as you so eloquently put it, but I’m talking about the plate on that car right there,” he says, pointing to the black Mustang to his left. Well shit, I just made an ass of myself. Sure enough, the license plate reads TPLSS.

  “Okay, I think we’re done with this game now,” I say, earning another loud round of laughter from him. My cheeks heat and I wonder if I’ll ever not feel like I’m completely inexperienced around him.

  We spend the rest of the car ride chatting about the show, talking about Cammie and the friendship that he’s formed with her. I do have a little jealousy with him being close to a woman when I’m so far away from him, but he talks about her like she’s a little sister so I keep reminding myself that I have to trust him. He is visibly worried about her forming a relationship with Grant. I understand that Grant treats Tucker horribly. I don’t know why he dislikes Tucker so passionately, but every person has redeeming qualities and it sounds to me that Cammie sees those even though Tucker can’t.

  I want to say that to him, but he’s so upset already that I stay quiet. He goes on about how he and Eddie both keep warning her that Grant is a womanizing asshole. They’ve tried telling her that his interest in her is because of Tucker and his need to get at him. I feel my hackles raise at that. What a shitty thing to say to her. It may be true, but there is a chance that Grant is actually attracted to Cammie. This time, I do tell Tucker that he should watch what he says to her because words can hurt. He takes his eyes from the road for just a second to look at me and I’m sure he can tell I’m upset.

  I don’t know why I’m defending a woman I’ve never met. I could have said nothing, but I felt that his and Eddie’s comments, although well intended, were not well thought out. Cammie is beautiful and any man would be a fool if he weren’t attracted to her based on that alone. If what Tucker is telling me about her personality is true, then Grant is an asshole if he’s using her to get to Tucker. She deserves better than a man using her and two friends insulting her, even if they aren’t intending their words to come out that way.

  At my house, we don’t bother unpacking Tucker’s bag. He’s leaving tomorrow. I try not to let the suitcase in the kitchen make my heart sad, but I can’t stop myself from hating that we only have small moments together before life steps in and we’re thousands of miles away from each other again. I tell myself to stop moping and enjoy every last second of the small moments I have with him because I know it will go too fast. I follow him into the living room.

  I’m staring at my feet as I walk, still bummed over our time together when I smack into a wall of hardness, stunning myself. I look up at Tucker who is standing still, staring around at my living room in silence. He makes no acknowledgement that I walked into him. I watch as his head turns side-to-side, taking the room in. All the pictures changed over. No longer is the room filled with pictures of Alex and me. There’s only one picture remaining with Alex and it’s a group shot with all our friends. I’m not even standing next to him. We’re all pig piled on top of Preston and Blake, then Alex and Kale and us ladies on top of them. I top off the pile. Dee and Kale’s kids are shooting us with water guns as we all laugh. None of us are looking directly at the camera and that’s what makes it the perfect picture. It’s so natural, friends goofing off, caught on film… forever.

  Tucker walks away from me and I know exactly where he’s going. My heart lodges in my throat. My feet feel cemented to the floor. He stares at a set of four pictures. Four pictures that have small pieces of him in them, but that I enlarged so his face wouldn’t show. I know he knows it’s him though. It’s from the day we watched the boys. He raises his finger and runs it along the picture of Kaleb resting against his knee and I have to force a swallow. His finger follows over to Kale Junior pulling the sword from the ‘dragon’s’ back. He traces the picture of Konner looking up to the large hand holding out a cardboard brick to him and lastly, to the picture of Korey smiling as someone ruffles his hair. He drops his hand and stands there in silence, his emotions thick in the air. I want to go to him, but I can’t tell if he’s upset with me for cutting him out of the pictures or not.

  When he turns to me, I want to cry out at the tears I see forming in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Tucker. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me putting your pictures on my walls. I will redo them if you…”

  He walks to me, taking the room in a few long strides, and pulls me into his arms, into a rib-crushing hug. His face buries into my neck and I can sense that he is working extra hard at holding his emotions in check. I throw my arms around him and stay quiet, offering him comfort with my embrace.

  “I am so fucking proud of you, sweetness.” His words shock me in a way nothing else could. I’m not sure what he’s proud of me for. I try to pull away so I can see his face, see what he’s trying to say, but he holds onto me tight. “You are so damn amazing. You have lost so much and then I come here and see this room and I see what you are trying to gain.” His voice quivers and he stops talking. I don’t know if he’ll continue.

  I run my hands through his hair and pull him tighter to me. His words go straight to my heart. He’s talking about me moving on, taking back my life. Him being proud of me, makes me smile f
rom the inside out. I want to say thank you, but that sounds so lame. It’s not the right words to explain how I’m feeling so I say nothing.

  “You don’t need to change anything. The pictures are gorgeous. I was just… surprised you had memories of us on your wall.” I try again to pull away and see his face, but he has an ironclad grip on me. “Every time you tell me you’ve visited Alex’s grave, I think of how impressed I am that you’ve made that step, but I didn’t expect to come here and see this. This is a big—a huge—step for you.”

  “It’s just this room.”

  “Even if it’s just this room, Adriana. You made the decision that you are ready to start taking back pieces of your life, but what I love the most is this.” He lets go and walks over to the picture with Alex in it. “You realized that taking back your life didn’t mean you had to give up who he was. You keep telling me he was your best friend. I see what you mean now. I understand he was your husband and you loved him with every corner of your heart. I will never try to replace that, but this,” he points at the picture, “this is the face of a true friend and I’m so proud of you that you are able to start moving on, knowing that you can have him here too. I’m glad you didn’t just wipe him out completely.”

  I have to wipe the tear away that falls down my cheek. How does he get what’s in my heart when I often don’t understand it myself? He doesn’t have to pull me into his arms this time. I rush him and wrap my arms around his waist, his words overwhelming me. There’s nothing I can say to express to him how his words have just glued together a couple more pieces of my broken heart.