by Rae Kennedy
The footsteps are closer, louder. Those are definitely heavy, Tuck footsteps.
Oh shit.
The lock clicks on the other side.
The door swings open and I’m not prepared.
I’m not prepared for the surprise on his face. I’m not prepared for the feelings that are swirling inside my head as he stands in front of me—tall and solid and real and...saying goodbye is the last thing I want to do right now.
“Hi,” I say, trying to sound cheery and casual.
“Um, hey. What are you doing here?”
I swallow my urge to run. “I’m leaving today and...I need to talk to you. Can I come in? It will only take a minute.” As I’m saying this, I’m already stepping inside and heading toward the living room. He mumbles something behind me about the time.
“I know it’s early, I’m sorry, I just need to tell you—” What the fuck do I need to tell him?
Tuck is standing there in his gray sweats and a white T-shirt, looking beautiful but uncomfortable, not meeting my eyes.
I don’t want to say goodbye.
I can’t.
I’m not going to.
“I came to apologize for being stubborn. For not listening to you. I miss you.”
“Court, this isn’t—”
“Tuck, I need to get this out. I don’t know how it will work but I want to try. And I will do whatever it takes. I want to be with you.”
I may be more shocked by the words that just came out of my mouth than he is.
He goes pale. He doesn’t look happy—he looks horrified.
A little noise comes from somewhere in the house. Innocuous, really.
Tuck curses under his breath and shakes his head.
Then a melodic voice calls from down the hall. A female voice.
“Tuck?” she says as she walks out to where we are standing.
She is average height with black, silky hair, plump lips, and bronze-colored skin. She is beautiful, sexy, curvy—everything I’m not. And she is only wearing a large, Notre Dame T-shirt.
CHAPTER 17
She looks just as surprised to see me standing in the living room as I was when she walked out of the hallway.
“Court,” Tuck says, fisting his hand at the back of his neck. “This is Alisha. Ali, this is Court. She’s a friend of mine and Haley’s.”
Ali? His ex-girlfriend, Ali?
Tears start to prick at my eyes, but I shake them off. I hold my chin high and plaster the most genuine smile I can muster on my face.
“Ali, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
I glance at Tuck. His eyes are locked on mine. But he doesn’t offer any innocent explanation, any reason to dispel this is anything other than what it looks like.
“I was just on my way out,” I say.
Tuck might notice my smile is off, but I just need to save face in front of her. I walk briskly past Tuck and to the door.
“Court, wait—" He reaches out for me.
But I don’t stop. “Goodbye, Tuck,” I say just before I close the door.
* * *
“I know! Let’s make some cookies!”
Gracie is even bubblier than her usual, cheerful self. She’s graduating high school in two weeks and could not be more excited.
I’m caught off guard when she confronts me as she stirs in the chocolate chips.
“Huh?” I ask.
“I asked what’s up with you. You’ve been moping around the entire time since you arrived this morning.”
I have? Gracie is incredibly bright and I’ve never thought she was a typical, self-absorbed teenager, but the fact she noticed still surprises me.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m sad about leaving, I’ll miss my friends and school.”
There. That was mostly true. She starts dropping balls of dough onto the cookie sheet, but she’s not buying my ‘I don’t know’ bullshit.
“Any one friend in particular?”
I grumble, but she knows I won’t lie after being called out.
“Okay fine. There might be one specific friend.”
“Named Tuck?”
“Am I that obvious?”
She shrugs as she places the last mound of cookie dough and opens the oven. “Him showing up randomly at our house the day after Christmas was...unusual. That didn’t seem like a just-friends thing.”
“We were just friends...at that point.”
She smiles as if to say “sure” but clearly doesn’t believe me. “Oh, and you have a picture of him on your pillow,” she adds.
“What! How do you know about that?”
“Mom asked me to wash your sheets before Aunt Shelly came to visit last month.”
“Mom didn’t see it, right?”
“Nope.”
Whew.
“So what happened?” Gracie asks.
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, we’ve got ten to twelve minutes until the cookies are ready.” She leans against the counter and waits.
I try to come up with a concise explanation. Here goes...
“We became close friends and I didn’t want to ruin the friendship by dating. And when that didn’t work because we inevitably fell for each other anyway, I didn’t want to commit to a relationship when we’d be living and working in different cities. Long-distance relationships don’t work. So, things ended.”
“How do you know it won’t work unless you try?”
“I’ve tried it before. If Wes and I couldn’t survive it, I don’t think it can be done.”
Gracie looks at me with a contemplative scowl on her face. “But, you and Wes didn’t break up because of long-distance.”
“What are you talking about? Of course that’s why we broke up.” I think I’d know since I was the one who did the breaking-up.
“No. You broke up because you changed. I mean, when you two started dating you were freshmen in high school. You grew up and you grew apart. The distance didn’t help the matter—sure, but you’re not the same person you were when you were fifteen.”
I don’t know when my baby sister became so grown-up.
We eat way too many cookies and watch some mindless reality TV show while she fills me in on the latest gossip in our small town.
When I get in bed, I flip over the pillow and look at Tuck’s face. I don’t know if I should burn it or cry into it.
I don’t cry, but I hold his face to mine and cuddle the shit out of that pillow.
* * *
I open my eyes. It’s after midnight. I must have fallen asleep quickly but something pulled me awake.
Then the screen on my phone flashes, my second text notification. That must have been it.
Tuck: Can we talk?
Me: Right now?
Tuck: Yes. Can I come up?
What? I pad to my window and peer down. Tuck is standing in my front yard, looking up to my room. It might be weird If I hadn’t also shown up at his house uninvited at an arguably equally inappropriate hour. I don’t see his truck, so he must have parked farther down the road.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel right now. Maybe most girls would be mad at him and refuse to talk, but him being here—the only emotion I can register is happiness.
I push my window open and get back in bed.
Me: Okay
A moment later he is climbing in the window and sliding it softly shut behind him.
“We have to be quiet,” I say.
He nods and comes to sit on the foot of my bed. I sit cross-legged up by my pillows.
“I needed to talk to you in person.” He looks me straight in the eyes, a little crease in his forehead, as he swallows hard. “Court, I’m so sorry about this morning. But what I’m mostly sorry for is last night.”
I already knew what had happened but him confirming it kills me.
“After Haley left last night I didn’t feel like hanging around the house alone. So, I decided to go out, get a couple of drinks a
nd watch the fight. I don’t do casual sex or random hook-ups—that isn’t what I went out to do. Ali just happened to walk in. She was in town for her cousin’s graduation and needed to get away from her crazy family. We caught up a little. She is going through a break-up and we were both lonely and...familiar. It meant nothing—to either of us. And if there was anything in my entire life I wish I could take back, that would be it.”
There is agony in his eyes, and I know he is being sincere.
“Tuck, I’m not going to say seeing her walk out in your shirt didn’t hurt—because it did. But we were not together. I hadn’t given you any reason to believe we would ever be together. We hadn’t even spoken in weeks. You are single and free to do as you like. You don’t owe me an apology.”
“Yes I do. What I did was shitty. And I’m sorry.”
“Do you still have feelings for her?”
“No.” There is no hesitation. He scoots closer to me and takes both my hands in his. “I only want you.”
I don’t care about last night, or anything else, just him. I need him and I’m not going to let anything else come between us. It was my stubbornness and refusal to let him in that put us in this situation in the first place. I don’t want to fight my feelings for him anymore. I won’t do it. I lunge for him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He buries his face in my shoulder and squeezes me.
“I’m yours,” I whisper in his ear.
He puts his face to mine, sweeping my hair out of my face. “You’re mine?”
“Yes.”
His smile is heartbreakingly beautiful, and I’ve never been as sure about anything as I am about this. About him.
He kisses me. His lips are soft, his hands strong at my back. I must have forgotten what it was like to kiss him because I don’t remember it ever being this good. This right. This perfect.
“Stay with me?” I ask.
He strips down to his boxers and lays with me, our arms and legs tangled together and in this embrace, we sleep.
* * *
Two clear knocks.
Ohmygod.
I shoot up, Tuck still softly snoring next to me. I try to shake him awake without making too much noise. He opens one eye but promptly shuts it again.
“Court,” Dad calls through my door.
My dad’s deep voice must have registered to Tuck’s half-asleep brain because he practically leaps out of bed at that moment. He grabs his discarded clothes off the floor and stumbles one-legged toward the wall as he tries to put on his pants.
“Uh, yeah?” I return.
The doorknob rotates, and Tuck stills just as my dad swings the door open. Tuck is frozen, only one leg in his jeans, standing on the other side of the door—blocked from view. Holy crap, my stomach’s queasy.
“Are you still coming to help me and the boys round up some cattle this morning?” my dad asks, unaware the only thing between him and a half-naked man in my room is a two-inch-thick slab of wood.
“Yup, I just need to get dressed and I’ll be right down.” I try to look only at my dad, but my eyes keep flickering over to Tuck’s mortified face.
“Great,” Dad says. “I’m going to go start saddling up the horses. See ya in a bit.” He shuts the door and Tuck and I simultaneously release shaky breaths.
“Jesus Christ, that was like a horror movie,” Tuck whispers.
I chuckle at him. He finishes buttoning his jeans and steps closer to me.
“Seriously, though. I kept thinking, if I get killed before I have a chance to make love to my beautiful girlfriend, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Make love?” I crinkle my nose at him.
“Yeah. What’s wrong with making love?”
“Nothing. Just sounds a little boring.”
He smiles crookedly as he wraps his hands around my waist, pressing the front of our bodies together and says in a seductive voice, “What would you like me to call it? Screwing you senseless? Fucking your brains out? Penetrating your pussy? Making you come on my cock?”
His words have me heated all over. “I’ll take any of those, actually.”
“You like when I talk dirty to you?”
“Yes,” I say, starting to breathe heavy as his lips brush against mine.
“I’ll have to remember that.”
Tuck finishes dressing and I kiss him before he climbs back out the window. I miss him before he’s even gone.
* * *
Dad sits back from the dinner table, rubbing his belly. “That was a mighty fine meal, honey.”
“Thanks, dear.” Mom squeezes his hand on the table.
Dad lifts her hand, kissing the back of it before looking around the table. “Y’all worked hard out there today. Who’s up for playing hooky tomorrow and going fishin’ instead?”
“Sounds great Mr. G.” Wes smiles.
“I’ll bring the beer,” Charlie says.
“Is that why you never manage to get anything larger than a tadpole?” Eric asks him.
“Hey, remember when you spent an hour trying to reel in a huge fish that turned out to be a tire?”
Eric scowls. “That could have happened to anybody.”
“Jack, you should bring the boys too. Fishin’ is one of the best ways to bond with sons.” Dad’s rosy cheeks are as big as apples under his bushy beard as he smiles at all the guys at the table. Then he looks toward me and Gracie. “It’d probably be great with daughters, too. I’d know for sure if mine ever took me up on the offer.”
“Anything where I have to impale a live worm on a hook is going to be a hard pass from me,” Gracie says, wrinkling up her nose.
“Sorry, I find it so boring,” I say.
“You only say that because you’re no good at it,” Jack points out.
“There is nothing to be good at! It takes no skill—you just sit there and hope a fish is hungry!”
All my brothers are laughing.
“Hey, sassy-pants,” Wes puts his hand lightly on my arm. “Help me clear the table?”
“Sure,” I say, grateful for the rescue.
After the table is cleared Wes asks if I’ll step outside with him for a minute.
Here we go. I take a deep breath and follow him slowly.
I’m going to have to tell him.
We stand on the front porch, the boards creaking under our feet. The sun is just starting its descent, the bright blue sky fading to a dusty orange at the horizon.
I should talk first but I’m not sure how to start.
“I was wondering if you wanted to try and pick things back up again? Maybe see a movie this weekend, get a bite to eat after?” he says.
This. This is the moment I’ve been dreading. A sinking feeling pulls at my stomach.
But the words come out steadier than I expect.
“Wes, I... I’m seeing someone.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” His voice is quiet. He tugs at his ear, a little frown forming.
My throat constricts and I’m not sure if I’m breathing.
His face when I said those words—I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. The distress in his light blue eyes as they gaze down, the quiver in his chin.
He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and looks up at me. “I wish you had told me sooner.” His voice is calm and clear. “Like when he showed up here the morning after Christmas.”
Every muscle in my face goes slack.
“So it is him?”
I swallow. “Yes, but we weren’t together then, I swear.”
“But you were more than friends.” He doesn’t say it as a question.
“No, we were just friends at that point.” Heat rises to my cheeks as the memory of getting myself off next to Tuck that night surfaces.
He is still fixed on my face like he can read every thought in my head.
“Okay,” I admit, “there was something there, but if there were feelings, I definitely hadn’t acknowledged them yet. I tried really hard for a long time not to.”
&nb
sp; In hindsight, I tried way too hard for far too long to resist Tuck.
“It’s okay. You can’t help who’s in your heart. No more than I can help that I can’t get you out of mine.”
“Wes, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it. It just happened.”
His eyes are sad but they hold steady on mine. “Does he treat you right? Does he make you happy?”
I nod yes, my eyes stinging.
“Good. That’s all I want for you, Court.”
We say goodbye but it’s like we no longer know how to be around each other. Wes starts to go in for a hug but stops himself. A handshake would be weird. So we settle on bittersweet smiles and small waves.
He puts on his hat and with a gentlemanly nod, he leaves.
As Wes’s old truck growls away down the road, the screen door squeaks open behind me. Mom comes to stand next to me, smoothing out her blouse.
“He’s a fine young man,” she says.
“Yes, he is.”
“If you’re giving him up, I hope it’s for something extraordinary.”
I just nod.
* * *
Wes hasn’t been to any more family dinners this week but I’m sure that won’t last for long. When Mama Bear Bev insists on feeding you, she generally gets her way.
I haven’t seen Tuck all week, either. He hasn’t been getting home until at least eight at night and I’ve had to get up before sunrise to help on the ranch. We always need extra hands during the summer.
But he texts me throughout the day and we talk every night before bed.
I also had to go to the school and fill out some paperwork. I am officially a faculty member teaching second grade starting in August. There are several staff meetings I’ll have to attend this summer already and a ton of lesson planning I’ll need to complete for approval. I am excited and terrified at the same time.
I tell Tuck all about it and he listens to me ramble on, offering words of support and encouragement.
“I wish you were my second-grade teacher. I definitely would have memorized my times tables to impress you.”
“Lucky for you, you can impress me in other ways this weekend.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I’ll be waiting for you when you get home Friday night and I don’t plan on leaving your bed all weekend. Or wearing clothes. I might not even pack underwear.”