“What does that even mean?”
“This is your first real relationship, Tuck. You won’t fuck it up, but you haven’t done anything either.”
I sigh and shake my head. “There’s so much to lose. I want to take it slow because her divorce was ugly.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Babysit Mae this Friday, so I can take her on a date?”
He laughs and then stops when I don’t follow. “You’re serious.”
“Yep, I can’t ask Nana or Alex because she’s going to say no.”
“Look, dude, I’d love to, but I’m actually leaving for Vancouver on Friday morning. We’re going skiing with Alex. Before you try Zeke out of desperation, he’s coming too.”
“You didn’t invite me?” I feel left out for a second and then I remember Alex texting if I wanted to ski this weekend. “Fuck, I already said no, didn’t I?”
“Yep, we understand. Mae can’t come. I hope this shit gets resolved soon, so we can take her on our trips.”
“So who is going to help me on Friday?” I ask, somewhat desperate.
“If it was me, I’d ask your mom, Winnie, your parents … I mean, Mae can’t go out of the state or the country, but you can drive her to your parents’ house. You can even try Hannah’s parents.”
“Before that, I have to talk to Mom and my dads,” I conclude and turn off my computer, grabbing my keys. “Close the door on your way out, please.”
On my way home, I call Mom. She texts saying she has back-to-back sessions but will call me when she has time.
When I get home, there’s soft new-age music playing. I walk quietly and find Sage in the living room, wearing a sports bra and a tiny pair of pink shorts. She wears a golden rose anklet, and her toenails are black.
I’ve never seen her bare feet. But they’re beautiful.
Fuck, do I have a fetish for feet or is everything about her just breathtakingly gorgeous?
“What are you doing?” I ask, as I stare at the gray plastic tubes, the small toys, and the colorful pieces of padded fabric around her.
“Building some toys,” she says, scowling at a piece of paper.
“Programming a website from scratch would be so much easier,” she says, pulling a pencil out of the messy knot atop her head. “I should’ve paid extra for them to build it.”
“Was that an option?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’d have found another place that did,” she assures me. “If I can find obscure books from the sixteenth century, I should be able to find someone to fix this. Maybe Mom’s right, I’m not meant to have children.”
The tone of her voice implies more than just frustration. There’s anger. I have two sisters, and I lived with Nana for a few years. I know women, and I also know that in moments like this, it’s best to walk away, climb up the stairs, look for my kid, and run next door until this—whatever she’s going through—passes.
Contrary to what common sense dictates, I grab my phone, change the music, and thank Ethan for setting up the surround system the moment Nana bought this house. I play some Sinners of Seattle because my music helps me concentrate better than anything else in the world.
Taking off my jacket next, I roll up the sleeves of my shirt, and I finally take a good look at what we have. Too many toys and not one clue on how to start. My next step is heading to the kitchen where I grab a beer and a hard lemonade for Sage. I twist them open and hand it to her.
“Where’s Mae?”
“Napping,” she explains. “We got served. My parents are claiming my sister and her husband weren’t in their right minds when they decided to choose us as Mae’s guardians. Also, that I’m an unfit parent.”
“She doesn’t know you. You’re great with our Snuggle Bug. If you weren’t so against sex with me, I’d be knocking you up right now,” I joke.
“So not funny,” she says, pretending to be annoyed, but there’s lightness on her voice. “You know, I think you’d be a great dad.”
I shrug.
“Not in your plans?” she asks.
“More like I need to get through step one, two, maybe three and four before I can even plan our future with six children, three pets, and one of those minibuses, so everyone can all fit,” I state boldly. “How am I supposed to do that when you don’t even let me talk dirty to you? How am I supposed to woo you?”
She laughs, and that gasping cackle and slight snort coming out of her is cute and endearing.
“Six children? God, you’re funny. I’ve never had a pet,” she confesses. “This is my first experience with a kid. And I’m not doing as great as you presume.”
I take the instructions from her and try to figure out what we’re building here. “Was this a way to show you can be a mom? Because I think you need more than a construction crew to put this shit together.”
“I do okay, you know. But I’m definitely not enough on paper. Not emotionally or financially,” she explains. “After the divorce, I sold the apartment and moved into a studio in Brooklyn. When I relocated to Oregon to help my grandparents, I used the money to pay for my grandfather’s bills and injected some of it into their business. They are doing great now, but I don’t own any part of it.”
“The documents are asking for my last two tax returns.” She laughs. “I bet they can prove that my salary isn’t enough to support Mae.”
I sit down next to her and start assembling the toy that’s in front of her. “We’re in this together, Sage. We can show that we have plenty to support her and ten more children.”
“This is like my divorce. You need to show that everything is too real for them to grant you what you want,” she says, and I look up at her, not sure if she’s upset, sad, or just stating a fact.
“Custody battles always suck, babe,” I conclude. “I wish your parents hadn’t stirred the pot. We have to be ready. They’re going to try every trick they have, and social services will dig into all the corners of our lives. Not because they’re vicious, but because they have to be sure Mae is safe.”
Kissing the tip of her nose, I say, “All we can do is try our best. Now, let’s put this together.”
Once I get a hold of the toys, I go from a jungle gym to a mat that’s a piano, and I actually grin. We could tease Hannah with this toy. She hates when we make fun of her height. Maybe she wouldn’t care because it’s a keyboard that makes music.
“Nana would love this one,” I say out loud and then I get all these crazy plans for Mae. “We should buy a baby drum set, so Zeke can teach her how to play.”
“What did Rocco play?”
I close my eyes and press my lips together, containing the sadness, because if we ever get the band together, he’s not coming back. “He was the rhythm guitarist. My backup. We usually played cool riffs during concerts that we made up on the fly, and Zeke would follow with the drums. Playing live was always fucking awesome because we came up with a bunch of new music during every performance. That’s why we always sold out—and sold the streaming too. He was important to us, but also to the band. He mattered more than he believed.”
She pushes herself up and kisses a tear that I let escape. “You haven’t let yourself cry, have you?”
“I’m okay,” I claim.
“He was your best friend, your brother, and apparently, your partner during concerts—”
“Did you send the papers to Hunter?” I ask her to try to get rid of the pain and to change the conversation.
“Don’t deflect,” she says. “And yes, I scanned them and sent them right away. He’s going to take care of everything. He said not to worry about anything. Thankfully, it took them longer to contest the will. It’s been three weeks since we moved in together. We’ve established a schedule and a routine. My parents haven’t visited her—unless you count last week when Mom came to yell at us.”
“That doesn’t count. We documented it as harassment—more so because she…” I stop because I don’t want to tell her Douglas was a
round. “Insulted you and never mentioned wanting to see Mae. Do we know when the court will appoint a social worker to the case?”
“No, but once they do, they’ll contact us. Hunter will make sure my parents and their lawyers don’t bother us again.”
Her tone is calmer than when I arrived, but I feel like I have to do more. Matt always dragged me somewhere to hike when I was bent out of shape. That usually worked for me. It might work for her.
“Come on,” I tell her, standing up. “Our family routine should include something fun. Let’s get the diaper bag ready and take Mae on an expedition.”
She looks at herself and shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m fit for that.”
“No, but why don’t you change while I get everything ready?”
“What should I wear?”
“Jeans, a sweater. Bring your coat, just in case it gets cold,” I announce.
“Where are we going?” she asks again, as we climb up the stairs.
“Wear walking or hiking shoes if you have a pair,” I add, because I don’t want her to end up with blistered feet.
“I live in Baker’s Creek,” she says. “Of course I own a pair of hiking shoes.”
“You lived,” I remind her. “This is home now.”
“I can’t afford the rent!” she yells from her room.
“You can pay me in kind,” I offer, changing my suit for a pair of jeans and a sweater.
“Part of this arrangement includes not asking for sexual favors.” I hear her voice faintly.
I walk toward her room once I’m dressed and tell her, “I agreed not to ask for sexual favors, but you can ask for anything, babe. Mouth, hands … anything.”
“Tucker Dean Bradley Cooperson Decker … ugh, you have a ridiculous name too,” she says exasperated, coming out of the closet looking hotter than earlier, and let me tell you, barely clothed Sage is pretty fucking hot. “Stop staring at me like I’m some dish and you haven’t eaten in years.”
“You’re a pretty amazing entrée, and yes, I’ve been starving—two years, Sage,” I explain. “Anytime you want to feel sorry for my ass and put me out of my misery.”
She walks toward me and pats my cheeks. “If you’re so desperate, use your hands.”
I grab her wrists. “Could I use your hands?”
Her breathing changes in rhythm, and her eyes widen in terror. I release her immediately. “What did I do?”
“You grabbed me like …” Her gaze drops.
I put a finger under her chin, lifting her head up and finding her beautiful eyes. “Babe, I would never hurt you. Ever. I’d hurt myself before I do something like that. Please, tell me what your hard limits are? I don’t want to see you like this again—fearful—because of me.”
“Sorry, I … I’m still working on it.”
“Look, you don’t have to answer this, but you date that guy Corbin, and you seemed okay with him. Is there something I’m doing wrong?”
She takes a deep breath, and when she lets the air out, she confesses, “I lost myself in Douglas because he enchanted me with his personality. He was charming, gentle, and self-confident. Corbin, he’s safe because I don’t feel anything, which means I’m able to think straight and leave if anything happens. You …”
I arch an eyebrow and suppress the cockiness because this matters to her, and I don’t want to screw this up, but does being attracted to a man make him unsafe?
“Look, you’re handsome—”
My phone rings with Mom’s ringtone. “Mom,” I greet her, smirking at Sage.
“I have a couple of minutes. Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, we’re going on a hike, but can we drop by afterward for dinner?”
Sage shakes her head.
“Dinner sounds lovely. I’ll call Matt. He’s in charge today.”
I look at Sage and add, “Only you guys, don’t extend the invitation. I love everyone but … Sage isn’t used to us. Let me ease her into the family.”
My parents live right next door to my grandparents, my uncles and aunts. It’s fun, most of the time, until it gets too busy.
“I’ll try my best, sweetheart. Text me when you’re on your way to us.”
48
Sage
“I’m a New Yorker,” I explain. “Running is what we do best—I hate running.”
“You own hiking shoes,” he says exasperated. “But you’ve never gone hiking.”
“I had to get a pair. I belonged to the hiking club in Baker’s Creek,” I explain.
“The one that consisted of drinking wine during the meetings?” he asks, tending to my blisters.
“No, this is the one where we try homemade beer,” I explain, and he laughs. “Yes, I know our clubs are unorthodox, but they’re fun.”
“God, you’re not going to be able to walk for a week,” he says with a worried voice.
“How am I supposed to care for an infant if I can’t walk?” I ask and scream as he punctures the next blister.
“Everything okay?” His father, Matt, enters the bathroom where Tucker is tending to my feet, which are full of blisters. “Fuck, where did you take her?”
“Not far, we went to Discovery Park,” Tucker answers. “She had new hiking shoes.”
Matt flinches.
“It was far,” I complain.
“Well, at least she forgot what was upsetting her,” his father says and smirks. “His first time wasn’t as bad, but he also ended up with a couple of blisters. Wrap that up with your mom’s lavender ointment and take some home. She shouldn’t walk at least for a couple of days.”
“I have a baby,” I point out the obvious.
“We’ll find you someone to help,” Matt says and then clears his throat. “Your mom wanted you to know that your grandparents are staying for dinner.”
“Only them?”
The guy shrugs, giving me a look of pity. “I won’t lie, Tuck. They all heard the baby is here, and you know us. We’re all suckers for babies.”
“I’m sorry,” Tucker says, puncturing the next blister. “I tried to avoid this, but … we’re a big family.”
Big isn’t an exaggeration. When he finally finishes treating my feet and wrapping them up, it’s time to walk to the dining area. The place is buzzing with excitement and energy.
I’m not exaggerating, this is busier than a restaurant during Easter brunch. The table is set as a buffet and almost everyone is holding a plate and chatting with whoever is around them.
“Put me down,” I ask nicely. “They’re going to think I can’t walk.”
“You can’t walk,” Tucker confirms. “I’ll set you on the couch and bring you something to eat.”
“We should go home,” I request, because this seems like a family reunion. and I shouldn’t be barging into it. “Come when they don’t have guests.”
“Sage, this is my family. We share meals almost every day of the week,” he explains. “They live next to each other, and they share a lot of the responsibilities like cooking, taking care of the children, and helping each other.”
“That’s … different,” I say in awe. “Nice.”
“We’re not nice,” he whispers. “Well, I guess most of my family is, but I’m not.”
I shiver as he kisses my cheek. “Let me check on our baby. If we’re not careful, they’re going to hide her from us. They love babies.”
When he leaves my side, I feel empty. Like I’m missing a part of myself … missing him. He’s definitely not safe, and I should keep my distance, but he’s making it so hard.
It’s as if our souls are dangerously drawn to each other. Every time I feel close, so close that I can taste him—beg him for a kiss, I stir away because of fear. But what if I let myself fall off the ledge?
How can you set boundaries when the man you’re trying to avoid has to carry you around the house for two long, delicious days because it’s painful to walk with all those bruises and blisters on your feet?
It’s impossible.<
br />
Not sure if the past forty-eight hours have been blissful or torturous, but I’m hoping today I can walk by myself. If he takes me into his arms again, and I have to smell his neck, I might bite him—or kiss him.
His musky, earthy scent combined with cedarwood and vanilla is intoxicating. Addictive. I can’t get enough of him.
“Morning,” he greets me, entering the room.
Is there anything hotter than rumpled hair, bedroom eyes, and bare chest, showing those ripped muscles and hot tattoos?
Not really. Who needs breakfast in bed when you can have … okay, I need a Tucker break before I do something stupid. Kissing him is off the table. Biting his neck seems too Vampire Diaries. Licking him might contradict my boundaries rules.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, feeling better. I’m sure I can walk,” I tell him, pushing the blankets away and sitting down straight. “Go check on Mae.”
“Mae’s all set. I changed her, fed her, and she’s on her bouncy chair listening to Bach.”
“Good choice, Mr. Decker,” I state. “You’re going to make that kid a musician before she learns how to walk.”
“Speaking of walk, let me check your feet.”
I cover them with the blankets and declare, “I’m okay.”
“No, I need to check those blisters,” he protests and sits on the bed, grabbing one of my legs.
Carefully, he unwraps my foot and looks at it, flinching. “We need to ease you into hiking.”
“I don’t hike,” I protest. “New Yorker, remember?”
He laughs. “Babe, once Mae can go places, we’re going to travel often and that means skiing, hiking, climbing … we’re pretty active.”
“When she can travel out of the state, we have to …” I can’t finish the sentence because I really don’t want to leave him—or for him to leave me.
He shakes his head and brushes my lips with his, making my entire body zing. “Let me get new bandages and the ointment.”
Us After You Page 25