by Willa Okati
Tuck propped himself on the wall and rubbed his eyes, speaking behind his hand. “I promise.”
“All right.” Cade flexed his hands reflexively and lifted his head to hold it high. “We need to work out the details and call the girls. It’s best if we do it together. Let me back in.”
Tuck stood aside, leaving the path open. “All I’m doing is waiting for you.”
But not without hope.
“As soon as the wedding’s over, so are we,” he’d said, and Tuck had replied, “If you want it to be over after that, then yes.”
He’d missed the loophole.
That tiny sliver of hope, Tuck clung to it with nails and teeth. He’d rescued Cade before and brought him back to life. That was what he did. Who he was. He found those who needed a hand and gave them one. Hannah. Megan. Suzie-Q, even. And Cade. They fought, sure, because they didn’t know any other way and didn’t understand why they should be loved.
Cade had forgotten everything he’d learned. Tuck hadn’t. He’d find a way through the cracks in Cade’s armor.
It was like Cade had said. Tuck never did know when to quit. Or maybe it was more that he knew damn well when quitting wasn’t an option, or shouldn’t be, and didn’t they boil down to the same thing?
They’d see. Tuck followed Cade inside, calm as he could, and shut the door behind them.
They’d see.
Chapter Three
The drive from the heart of New York to the farther outskirts of Richmond took ten hours instead of the six over-optimistic maps promised. Partly because dogs needed more breaks than humans, but Tuck thanked God he’d brought Suzie-Q along. With Cade still and silent in the passenger seat, in one of his most remote and unreachable moods—no doubt a reaction to the loss of pride from the last time he’d crossed paths with Tuck—her presence didn’t quite break the ice but at least made it bearable.
He hadn’t seen Cade since that night in his—their—apartment. Total radio silence except for a few short bursts of texts asking when they’d leave and how long they’d stay. Then arguing over and finally agreeing that lending the girls a hand prepping for the wedding they planned to hold at home was a better gift than a random set of throw pillows or a blender.
At least they’d been happy to hear from Tuck. He thought their squeals might still be ringing in his ears, but that was okay. Thinking about it made him laugh, and he needed all of those he could get right now.
At the very last, leaving it late enough to make Tuck worry that Cade had changed his mind, all he’d gotten from that one was a terse message with Cade’s new street address.
And not a word had Cade spoken since he got in the car except to Suzie-Q, who swarmed him with puppy kisses the second she saw him and wouldn’t be budged from his lap since.
Tuck tried to reconcile himself to that. He did. At least he got to hear the voice he loved, even if every quiet murmur was directed at a dog.
His mood shifted for the better, finally, when they crossed the state line. Tuck wouldn’t have visited the South on his own—for good or for ill, he was an Empire State guy—and he loved driving, but man, was he glad to spy a “Welcome to Richmond” sign.
Welcome, indeed. Tuck gave it all a good once-over, glad of something to distract him. He had his pick of what to check out. Ritzy shops, bistros, galleries. Same concept as New York. Very different execution. He could smell old money almost everywhere in this suburb, wafting especially strongly from a posh vintage clothing store he checked out while waiting for a stoplight.
“We don’t fit in here,” Cade said, abruptly breaking the silence. He glanced at Tuck, almost daring him to say either yes or no.
Tuck shrugged, travel grit making his eyes burn and his throat dry. “Guess that depends on how you look at it.”
And that was that, until the GPS told Tuck they were almost there.
And holy cats, “there” was “Somewhere,” all right. With a capital S.
Hannah and Megan had told him they were house-sitting for a professor on sabbatical at Oxford. Hence a house big enough for a wedding. Tuck guessed some professors might earn a decent wage or have family money behind them, but for fuck’s sake. Hannah might have mentioned said professor’s connection to King fucking Midas.
Tuck shook his head in wonder. Regardless of what he’d said to Cade, these were not Tuck’s kind of stomping grounds. These were supposed to be family homes? Fuck. McMansions only dreamed of that kind of style. These were the real thing, from ivy-wrapped columns to gardeners who kept lawns green and as soft as velvet and would take care not to let one leaf on an heirloom rosebush grow at the wrong angle.
Cade’s remoteness gave way to curiosity and then concern. He frowned at the world they’d rumbled into. “This can’t be right. Are we lost?”
Tuck counted to ten. “When’s the last time you knew me to get lost?”
“When’s the last time you were in Virginia?”
Tuck counted to a hundred this time, then sighed. Drives like this got to everyone. Wouldn’t hurt him to cut Cade some slack. “I’ll pull over and ask,” he said, the ultimate sacrifice to a taxi driver’s pride.
Cade blinked. No way he’d have expected that. Tuck wondered if he’d protest, but…no. He almost softened when he nodded.
Go fucking figure, but whatever. Tuck would take it. He’d take another twelve-hour drive for the smile that came out when he grinned at Cade. Be damned and be blessed too.
“I’m sorry,” Cade said, just to top off the trifecta of the unexpected.
Tuck blinked. “What?”
Cade knuckled the back of his own head, probably a learned habit to replace the old-school tugging at his hair. “I make a rotten passenger. I’d meant to…then I couldn’t. This still isn’t easy.”
Tuck shrugged noncommittally. “You’re here. I can deal.”
“I know,” Cade said quietly. And then, softer still, almost as hushed as a small breath, “Thank you.”
Tuck could do nothing but sit silently, stunned.
As if nothing had happened at all, Cade nodded at an upscale version of a fill-up joint just ahead, a tastefully miniature farmer’s-market display of vegetables and fruit out front.
Tuck nodded in answer to the unspoken question. “This’ll do.”
Tuck took care to coast into the parking lot in an easy glide and came to a gentle stop by the single row of gas pumps. Suzie-Q barked and danced in Cade’s lap, eager to jump out and run.
Not Tuck. Not yet. He coughed, tried to wet his lips, and gave up. “You’re welcome,” he said, as quietly as Cade. “I’ll make this quick, and we can get on our way. We’ve got to be close.”
A truck sat parallel to them with an honest-faced, decent-looking guy leaning casually on his bumper, waiting for his tank to fill.
Huh. Tuck gave him a second glance. The guy looked almost as out of place here as they did. Big guy, built like a man who didn’t get his muscles at a gym. He dressed as casually as Tuck and Cade themselves in a light T-shirt and jeans, and had broad hands scarred with the marks of a lifetime’s hard work.
Tuck liked him.
“Help you with something?” the man asked.
Damn it. Busted for staring. Tuck grimaced fast at Cade, who—hell, returned the favor with a small dash of sympathy. It was unexpected and good and took the sharp edges off Tuck’s mood too.
He shook his head at the man at the pump. “Sorry. Zoned out. I’ve been on the road since before dawn.”
The man’s eyebrows made a slow climb. “Long drive.”
“You’re not kidding. I’m looking for…uh…” Now was not the time to go blank. “Hannah,” he blurted. “Megan.”
“Pardon?” The man frowned.
Tuck really had been driving too long; he couldn’t think of any other names, street or otherwise. “Uh…”
Cade came through in a pinch. He leaned forward to look past Tuck, saying, “We’re looking for Professor McIntyre’s house. It’s on Dogwood Crest. Do you�
�” Pause. Odd pause. “Do you know where that is?”
Anyone else would have missed the slight falter. Anyone but Tuck. Just a twitch when Cade met the man’s steady gaze. He had a certain calm to him that was…somehow familiar.
“You all right?” the man asked, and no wonder. Cade had gone statue again.
Almost…scared?
Tuck made a split-second decision and took a chance by resting his hand on Cade’s thigh to soothe him. It helped. Some.
“He’s cool,” Tuck said. “Long day for both of us.” Odd. The more Tuck checked the guy out, the more familiarity tugged at him. Like he was someone Tuck should know.
He didn’t. No one in his memory came close. But if he tweaked Cade out, then Tuck would leave whoever this was in the dust without thinking twice. He rapped the side of the car with his knuckles. “So. Directions?”
“Around here they say ‘please,’” the man replied. He unhooked the nozzle from his gas tank and nodded to the right. “You’re almost close enough to see it from here. Two blocks down and it’ll be on your right. McIntyre’s place is at the end of Dogwood Court, not Crest. The good professor’s is the only house down there. You can’t miss it.”
Tuck snorted. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard that. I drive a taxi,” he explained.
Most people worked up at least a courtesy chuckle over that particular exchange. Not this guy. He narrowed his eyes, weighing Tuck in some sort of balance. Not exactly what you’d call a hostile reaction, but nowhere near friendly either. “That makes sense,” he said.
Okayyy. Moving right along now.
“Yeah, well. Thanks. Two down, make a right,” Tuck said, already moving forward.
He glanced back once to see the man still watching them. “Creepy enough for you? Jesus.”
Cade’s response? More silence, but of a different sort. A little unnerved, a lot thoughtful.
Truth be told, Tuck thought he liked this less than the statue routine. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
“What?” Cade shook himself out of some kind of reverie. He sounded as odd as his mood suggested. “It’s nothing. He reminded me of someone, that’s all.”
You bet your ass Tuck would have asked about that if the sign for Dogwood Court hadn’t come into sight and put it out of his mind. “Thank Jesus, Mary, and all the saints,” he breathed. “See? I told you I’d get us here.”
“You did.” Cade shifted in his seat. He shook his head, but not the way he’d been seconds before. “You did,” he repeated, the hint of that tiny smile drifting in to replace his preoccupied frown.
It was a good thing, to be breathing easy at the end of this journey.
They pulled up to the curb in front of the house, a style Tuck thought might be called colonial. He hadn’t expected to like it, but he did. It had the grace of an elderly, refined lady. One who’d grown old gracefully and scorned the idea of facelifts and was comfortable with being lived in as a home, not a showpiece.
There was even a woman out front getting her hands in the dirt, turning over the soil in preparation for planting a bed of those cool flowers that bloomed in different colors every day. Moss roses, was that the name? One of their neighbors in the city had a window box of those. Rich with a decadent abundance of color sprinkled throughout a messy tangle of succulent green vines.
Was she the gardener? Probably. Good to look at, she was, a woman lean but strong, her hair tucked up underneath a straw hat. She radiated a sort of quiet contentment that eased the rattle of the long and weary road from his bones.
Wait. Tuck looked down. He hadn’t imagined that. As he’d wished for a long time, Cade had taken his hand. More than. He’d knotted their fingers together and squeezed tight. A little too tight, actually. His knuckles were white, and Tuck’s finger bones sent up a protest over the pressure of the squeeze.
So, that couldn’t be good. Tuck killed the engine. “Cade? Cade.” He twisted their wrists from side to side, jostling him. “You okay?”
“My God.” Cade couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the gardener. “Look at her.”
“I was. What’s the deal?”
Cade’s laugh broke down the middle. He let go of Tuck. He looked different. Amazed. Surprised. Relieved. A dozen different emotions all warring for pride of place on one face. “You’ll see.”
The woman dusted off her work gloves and tucked them into her pocket. Somehow familiar, same as the man at the gas station, but different too. It wasn’t, however, until she tipped the sun hat off her head to hang down on her back, loosing a spill of bright hair now a slightly darker gold but still less controllable than dandelions, that Tuck recognized her.
“Changed” wasn’t a strong enough word here. This lady had found strength since the last time he’d seen her. A quiet courage, a peace of sorts that turned a familiar kid sister into a grown woman who knew how to be happy in her own skin.
“My God,” Tuck echoed Cade, cranking down the window as fast as he could. He wrestled free of his seat belt and hitched himself fully half out the window. “Hannah?” he called, still not quite believing it could be her. Two years couldn’t allow for that much change.
Only it had, and it was her. Hannah.
And swear to God, Tuck had seen dimmer glows on 100-watt bulbs when Hannah got a proper look at his face. “Tuck?”
Tuck whooped at top volume, matched by Hannah’s peal of excited laughter. He didn’t bother with unlocking the car door, just slithered on out and hit the ground running. She met him halfway, colliding, hanging on tight while he swooped her up in a hug that knocked the breath out of both of them.
He’d hugged her this way when they were both kids, when she was as skinny as a spider monkey and scared out of her mind, A kid who pleaded silently from the shadows for someone she could count on, who’d hug her when she needed it, and who she could trust to let her fly.
No matter what else happened, this moment here? This made it all worthwhile.
Chapter Four
Look at her, would you? She weighed almost nothing! Like feathers, and feathers belonged in the air even when their owners were beating him with small, rock-hard fists. A big brother had certain prerogatives, namely to tease the ever-living shit out of his sibs, and from the way she laughed, like sparks of sunlight, she didn’t really mind.
“Oxygen! I need to breathe.” Hannah landed a good one beneath his shoulder blades. “Enough. Put me down. Wait, no, not like that—”
Too late. Tuck spun them around as fast as he could pivot, one-two-three, and set her lightly on her feet. She pirouetted in an awkward circle, but he caught her before she crashed.
Her eyes were still a little crossed when she squeezed half the breath out of him. He rocked her, steadying her. “You know that had to be done.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” she said.
“Yeah, well, I’m just glad you didn’t still have a trowel in your hand. Those fuckers have sharp edges.”
“You had to go there? Honestly.” Hannah stretched up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then drew back to take him by the hands. “You threaten to cut a guy once, and he never lets you live it down.” She looked him up and down, seeming both weirdly fascinated and delighted.
“What?”
“I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed so much.”
“Me?” Tuck said, blinking in confusion. “Try that one again, lady.” And “lady” she was. He’d still thought of her as a skinny kid before now. “When did you go and grow up?”
She laughed. “Must have been when you weren’t looking.”
“Remind me to kick my own ass for that later, would you?” Tuck couldn’t get past the changes in her. She’d be twenty-three now. All grown up.
“Tuck?” She tilted her head and grinned at him. Sisters had their teasing prerogatives too. “Need a tissue?”
Tuck coughed and wiped his face against his sleeve. “Shut up. I have something in my eye. All that dirt you were throw
ing around.”
Hannah crossed her arms. “Uh-huh.”
“Yeah-huh. See? Still the conversationalists of legend, us.” Tuck knuckled the top of her head. “Go take a look in a mirror, then come talk to me about ‘change.’”
She wrinkled her nose. “Mirrors and I haven’t gotten along since you told me that story about Bloody Mary.”
“Which you and Megan immediately went and tried.” Tuck laughed out loud. “In every bathroom at St. Pius’s. Including the one in Father Michael’s office. Was it your idea or Megan’s to set up two mirrors facing each other to see if you could get a double-Mary cat fight?”
“That was Megan. She’s the smart one,” Hannah said sunnily.
“I thought she was the bad girl.”
“I think you’re in for a lot of surprises. Don’t stay away so long next time.” Hannah ruffled his hair, almost knuckling his scalp. “Did you know you have a gray hair?”
Tuck stopped himself, barely, from tugging a lock of his hair over his eyes to check. “Bite your tongue. I’m forever youthful.”
“A kid at heart,” Cade murmured behind him. “Peter Pan.”
“Who’s talking kids? This one still needs to learn her manners.” Tuck swung Hannah around in another set of dizzying circles, set her lightly on her feet, and pointed her toward Cade. Cade, who leaned propped on the side of the car with his hands in his pockets and a hesitant smile as if unsure how she’d welcome him compared to her pleasure at seeing Tuck. Suzie-Q sat at his feet with her head cocked curiously, taking the measure of this strange rural world.
“Cade.” Hannah stumbled toward the car, laughing at the way she weaved like a drunkard but steady enough by the time she reached Cade to take his hands as she’d taken Tuck’s. No big and elaborate hug for the two of them, but it looked like Hannah had learned to be good at sizing up what a person needed. Rough and rowdy with one, gentle with another. “Look at you. You’re even more different than Tuck.”
No kidding, but…she didn’t sound dismayed. She sounded pleased. Tuck took a second look, and then a third, looking for what Hannah saw that he hadn’t.