Chapter Nineteen

EMMA

Tucker: I can’t decide what to have for dinner tonight. I’m torn.

Emma: Is this one of those interludes where you say something like you can’t choose between chicken wings or what I’m serving between my legs?

Tucker: Awfully full of ourselves, wouldn’t you say?

Emma: . . .

Tucker: I was going to suggest soup and sandwiches or beef tips in gravy sauce.

Emma: Is beef tips and gravy some kind of code for your dick and my juice?

Tucker: Christ, Emma. LOL. NO! I actually like beef tips.

Emma: So you weren’t alluding to eating me out or having sex at any point during this texting conversation.

Tucker: No.

Emma: Tucker . . .

Tucker: EMMA . . .

Emma: TUCKER JAMESON!

Tucker: Fine, I originally was going to say either spaghetti or your pussy. Happy?

Emma: Completely satisfied.

Tucker: Is it weird that I want to kiss you so fucking bad right now?

My heart floats in my chest as I read his text over and over again. The smile that graces my lips is a permanent fixture these days. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to shake it.

“You’re in a good mood,” Logan says, pulling my head away from my phone and back to the books in front of me.

“Huh?”

He points his pencil at me. “Your smile. Did someone tell you that you’ll never have to stick another person with a needle again?”

“Am I?” I try to make my face normal, less smiley, but it’s almost impossible. Tucker makes me happy. It’s been a month since we first slept together and since then, it’s been every night, every morning, and anytime we’re near each other. He’s insatiable. Hell, so am I. I can’t keep myself away from him or out of his bed, or out of his arms, or away from his demanding lips. And I don’t want to.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in days and now your head is buried in your phone rather than your books and you can’t stop grinning like a fool. What’s going on?”

Confession. I haven’t told Logan about Tucker. Adalyn knows, she knew the second she saw me after Tucker and I had sex. I think her exact words were, “You boned him, didn’t you?” It’s hard to hide anything from Adalyn. But Logan is less perceptive, or maybe my avoidance helped out a bit. I’ve just felt awkward around him ever since Tucker suggested Logan wants me. I don’t think it’s true, but then again, sometimes with the way I catch him looking at me, I do wonder.

“Nothing really,” I answer, pulling on the ends of my hair, unable to make eye contact.

“Not buying it.” He tilts my chin up with his pencil and says, “Tell me.”

Why is this so awkward? He’s my friend, so I should be able to tell him anything. Just peel the Band-Aid off, get it over with. I take a deep breath and say, “Uh, Tucker and I started seeing each other.”

“Tucker, your roommate?”

Is there really any other Tucker? I don’t say that, but come on, Logan. “Yeah, that Tucker.”

His eyebrows pull together and I’m a little surprised by his reaction. I thought they got along. “Huh, I didn’t think you were interested in him. I thought he’s your best friend’s ex-boyfriend. Isn’t that against girl code or something?”

Well, there’s the splash of ice-cold water I DIDN’T need to wipe the happy smile off my face.

I don’t know what to say. How does one really react to another person blatantly calling them out? So I just shrug and sift through my book. All the words blend together, forming one giant sentence that makes no sense.

Isn’t that against girl code or something?

Stupid Logan and his logic. I’ve been so caught up in Tucker that I haven’t even thought of the outside world, of the people around us, of the repercussions of our coupling.

“I don’t mean to upset you.” Yeah, right! “I guess I was just caught off guard, that’s all,” Logan says, placing his hand over mine. As has been his habit, his thumb caresses my skin in what I’ve always considered a reassuring way.

“You didn’t upset me.” I try to think of how to respond and instead just go with honesty. “I really didn’t think about anyone else besides us. It just happened so fast, and I guess I haven’t sat back to think about what it all means.”

“Is it serious?”

To me it is. To Tucker, I really have no idea.

“We haven’t really had that conversation. We’ve just been, you know, seeing where it all goes.”

Logan nods and puts his pencil down in the crevice of book. “Well, it seems like he makes you happy. It’s hard not to notice the change in your demeanor.”

“He does make me happy.”

“And what about him? Does he feel the same way about you?”

I don’t like Logan’s questioning. “What kind of questions are these?” He’s making me question Tucker’s intent and I really don’t care for it. Is that Logan’s intent? To make me doubt Tucker? I don’t want to think about us because the minute I start thinking about how Tucker feels inside, my gut starts to churn. As long as I’ve known Tucker, his heart has been Sadie’s. It’s always been Sadie and the thought of him still harboring feelings for her literally tears me in half, makes me feel physically ill. I can’t think about it. I won’t think about it. I refuse to. Didn’t he say he needed to work through that before we slept together? Did we rush that? Did he simply give in to me because he was horny?

“I’m just concerned about you. I don’t want you to start something that’s going to break you later on.”

“Why do you think he’s going to break me? You barely know him and you haven’t seen us together, so you don’t see how he treats me.”

“That’s true, but what I do know about him scares me. You’ve told me about his ex, about how he’s felt about her, how he bought that house for her. And then there’s that room, the room he won’t let you in. And don’t forget about . . . what is it? Rule number six? Don’t talk about Sadie?” He strokes my hand again, concern in his eyes. “Come on, Emma, it doesn’t seem like he’s over her and instead of dealing with his baggage, he’s covering it up with you as a distraction.”

Ouch. That hurts and what hurts even more is that his comment seems to ring too close to the truth for my liking.

“Don’t be mad at me, Emma,” Logan says, tugging on my hand. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know.” I nod. “I, uh, I have to get going, though. I have somewhere I have to be.” I start to pack up my things as quickly as possible.

“Emma, don’t go. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

I try to catch my breath as I pack. “I know and I appreciate that. I just have to go.”

Logan stands and stops me from putting a book in my backpack. “Don’t just run away. Talk to me, Emma.”

Irritation overwhelms me and I snap at him. “Talk to you? I just told you how happy I am and you go and throw a wet blanket over it. Why would I want to talk to you when you make me feel like crap?”

His face registers shock and I feel slightly bad for lashing out. “I’m sorry, Emma. I really was just looking out for you. I don’t trust him and his intentions.” Yeah, Logan. That much is obvious.

I snag my book from him and stuff it in my backpack followed by zippering it up. I toss the bag over my back and say, “Well, I’m a big girl, Logan, and I know what I’m doing. I appreciate your concern but please just stay out of it.”

With that, I take off toward my car while I check my phone. There’s a text form Tucker.

Tucker: When are you getting home? Racer is here and I want an excuse to kick him out.

I sigh and tuck my phone into my pocket. Home. That’s exactly what it has felt like. Returning home. To Tucker. Damn Logan. He’s the reason it feels a lot less exciting now.

Logan succinctly brought all my fears to the forefront of my mind and I’m not ready. Not ready to wonder if my life with Tucker is transient. Not ready for him to ask me nicely to leave with a “Thank you very much, Emma, but my heart will never be yours.” Not ready to have my heart shatter and wonder if I’ll ever be whole again.

I’m not ready to be let go, and I’m not sure I ever will be.

***

When I pull up to the house, there are almost blinding lights blasting in the living room, making the whole house look like it’s harboring the sun. Confused, I grab my bag and head in. I drop my stuff onto the kitchen counter and make my way to the living room where there’s music playing—One Direction, ha!—and lamps pointing toward the fireplace where two bare-chested men wearing tool belts and rocking a fireplace kneel on the ground. Tucker has a pencil tucked behind his ear, his hair all askew as if he’s been running his hand through it, and Racer is sporting a backward baseball cap.

Both men rival each other in the muscle department, their chests bronze despite the winter months, their backs rippling as they place a very light colored rock on the fireplace. The room has also been painted a pale grey, making it feel light and airy. How long was I studying that they could get all of this work done?

“Just put the mortar on the damn thing and give it to me,” Tucker says, holding his hand out.

“You’ve gotten to put all the rocks on, I should get to do some too.”

“Stop being a little bitch and hand me the rock. I want to get this done before Emma gets home.”

“I’m not being a little bitch.” Racer sits back on his heels and points to his tightly flexed chest. “You’re being the little bitch and not sharing. Sharing is caring, Tucker.”

“You put them on crooked.”

“The fuck I do. They call me the fireplace master back at the job site. You’re lucky I’m here helping you without charge. I could be invoicing you one hell of a bill if I wanted to.”

“The amount of pizza and beer you shoved down your throat while painting will cover that bullshit invoice. Now hand me the damn rock.”

“No.” Racer seems to put his foot down.

“For fuck’s sake, Racer.” Tucker pulls on his hair in frustration. I was right, he has been yanking on those beautiful strands and I can guess the reason why.

I decide to step in.

“Just let him put the rock on,” I say, turning the music off at the same time, startling both of the six-foot-three men right out of their construction boots.

“Fucking hell,” Racer says, dropping the mortar-covered rock right on the hardwood floor.

“Jesus, Racer.” Tucker picks it up and yells, “Quick, wipe that shit off my floors.”

Tucker places the rock on the fireplace and then stands, wiping his hands on his low-slung jeans. Despite the anguish I’m feeling, which is making my stomach do all different kinds of flips, I can’t help but take Tucker in. He looks just like that meme that floats around the Internet of the man standing on the bed, shirtless, fixing a light. The meme reads, “I don’t know what he’s fixing, but mine just broke.”

When he starts toward me, all I can think is, yes, mine broke too, whatever the hell it is and I want him to fix it.

With purpose in every step he takes toward me, his muscles shift and flex, giving me one hell of a show. “You’re home early, babe. I thought you would be studying later.”

So did I.

Feeling a little off-ish—thank you, Logan—I say, “Yeah, we ended early tonight.” I scan the room and nod. “Looks good in here.” I lean to the side and say, “Hey, Racer.”

He scrubs the floor and then pulls up the rag and waves it at me. “Hey, Emma.” Then he tosses the rag at Tucker and says, “Your precious floor is fine, dickhead.”

Tucker ignores him and takes a step forward, but I step back, unsure of how I’m feeling right now. He doesn’t seem to like my retreat from the way he narrows his eyes at me.

“Uh, I’m tired. I’m going to get ready for bed, call it an early night. Don’t worry about making noise or anything. Nice seeing you, Racer.”

“Have a good night,” he calls out as he starts laying rock on the fireplace, unsupervised. From here, he seems to be doing a fine job.

I turn back to Tucker and meekly smile at him. “Night.”

His face turns in disapproval, but before he can say anything, I go back in the kitchen, snag my bag, and go to my bedroom where I quietly shut the door.

He’s covering it up with you as a distraction . . .

Logan’s words repeatedly sting as they play on repeat in my head. It’s like he reached inside my brain, pulled out the fears I’ve been trying to keep hidden since Tucker and I kissed, and laid them out before me. I hate that my fears are making me insecure and causing me to question everything that’s happened between Tucker and me. Has anything we’ve done together meant anything to him? Or have I just been a temporary escape for him from his pain? Enabling him to forget. Does he make comparisons between Sadie and me and believe he’s settling for second best?

I feel so sick to my stomach. Not in the mood to do anything but lie in my bed, I change into a set of pajamas and crawl under my covers. I turn toward my nightstand, set up my iPad, and go to my Netflix app. I just need some mindless binging. As I’m searching through the TV shows, my door cracks open. Tucker sticks his head in, sees me in bed and invites himself in, shutting the door tightly behind him.

He’s still shirtless and in his jeans, but now he’s without his boots and tool belt. His bare feet pad across the hardwood floors in my bedroom until he reaches my bed. He sits down and pulls down the sheets that are covering my shoulders and takes in my taco-covered pajama set.

“Are you okay, Emma?” he asks after studying me for a few seconds.

“Yeah.” Do not cry. For the love of God, do not cry, he will think you’re crazy. “Just tired.”

His hand caresses my cheek. “No, there’s something bothering you. What aren’t you telling me?”

Ah, why does he know me so well already?

I shake my head. “Long day.”

I can tell he’s not buying it but he lets it go as he says, “Okay, I’ll get rid of Racer, clean up, and then I’ll wrap you up in my arms. Give me half an hour to finish up everything.”

“Don’t worry about it. You do your thing. I can just catch you in the morning.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me. “You’ll catch me in the morning?”

“For breakfast?” I ask as a question. I’m really not good at this lying thing.

“So after a month of spending every night together, of not only having sex, but talking, laughing, and enjoying one another, you’re just going to catch me in the morning?”

This isn’t going as planned. Why can’t I be more coy about things? I wear my emotions on my face, unmasked and for everyone to see, especially Tucker who’s so adamant about studying my every move.

He takes my silence as his answer and nods his head. He stands from the bed and walks out of the bedroom without another word. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I bury my head in my pillow and try to drown out the negative thoughts in my head, but I’m having a difficult time.

If he cared, he wouldn’t have just walked away.

If I wasn’t a distraction, he would still be in this room.

If he wasn’t still hung up on Sadie, he would have pulled the covers off me and snuggled up against me.

But none of that happened. Instead, he left, and I feel cold, unwanted, and sick to my stomach. This night isn’t going anywhere, so I turn off my nightstand lamp and turn away from my door. Tears fall down my cheeks as I try to comprehend how I’m going to handle the morning.

I should just end it. I should just thank him for the mind-blowing sex, shake his hand as a peace offering, and be done with it. Easier said than done. But how does one go about doing that when their heart is already invested?

More tears fall, soaking the pillow beneath me. I take in a deep breath and my door opens again and then quickly shuts. I hold my breath as I try to act as still as possible. There’s no movement and I wonder if he entered the room or was just checking my door for squeaky hinges. But I have my answer when I hear him pad across the floor.

He steps to my bed and I wait for his next move. I feel so nervous. Are we about to get into a huge fight? I still as he pulls the covers down and when I think he’s going to turn me over, instead, he climbs into bed behind me and wraps his arm around my waist, burying his head into my hair. He holds me tightly and the feel of his arm around me breaks me apart.

He came back.

Does that mean I’m not just a distraction?

A sob escapes me as I cry into my pillow. Every fear and emotion I’ve been holding back since Logan tore my little bubble apart comes flying out.

“Shhh,” he coos into my ear. The arm that’s wrapped around my waist falls to the hem of my shirt where he snakes his hand under the fabric, and I instantly feel comforted from the skin-on-skin contact. There is nothing sexual about his touch, he doesn’t try to touch my breasts; he just holds me tight.

“I’m s-sorry,” I slightly stutter.

“Don’t be sorry, Emma. Just talk to me.”

“Is Racer still here?”

“Yes. He’s finishing up the fireplace and then taking off.”

I shift so I’m on my back and can see Tucker’s face. “Oh, you should go finish with him. I don’t want you to be rude.”

“Racer’s a big boy. He can handle finishing up on his own. You, on the other hand, I want to know what the hell is depriving me of your beautiful smile.”

My lips purse together as I try to hold back more tears. He’s so sweet and it’s confusing. Is he just being nice because I’m his friend, or is there something else there? I want to believe there is something else. I feel like there is, but then again, I also feel slight resistance in Tucker, as if he hasn’t fully given himself over to me. When I really consider us, that’s what’s concerning, because it all just circles back around to what Logan pointed out.

“Emma, please,” he whispers as his forehead presses against my cheek. “If it’s something I did, I’m sorry. If it’s because of Racer being here, I was just trying to get the living room fixed up to surprise you. I wanted to make it warm and inviting, a place where you can study instead of being locked in your room or at the library all the time. I even bought a coffee table. Fuck, I’ll never have Racer come over again.”

Oh this sweet, sweet man.

“It’s not Racer,” I breathe out.

“Then what is it?” He pulls me in tighter. It’s as if he’s worried that if he lets go, he’ll lose me forever. “Please talk to me, Emma.”

I bite down on my lip for a second and come to the realization that I’m just going to have to talk to him. Be honest. Jesus, be a grown-up.

“I told Logan about us.” The mention of Logan’s name has Tucker sitting up and looking down at me, his hand still around my waist.

“What did he fucking say to you? Did he touch you? I swear to God, I will drop him to the floor so fucking fast.”

I press my hand against Tucker’s chest to calm him down. “He didn’t touch me, Tucker. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, then what the fuck did he say to you? Because clearly whatever he said is why you’re so upset.”

“He was just nervous about your intentions, that’s all.” Okay, he might have said a little more than that but I’m not ready to speak about Sadie, and I know Tucker isn’t as well, hence rule number six.

“About my intentions?” he roars. Oh boy, he’s mad. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Tucker has never liked Logan and now I know he’s never, ever going to like him. “Where does this dickhead come off questioning my relationship with you? He doesn’t even know me; he doesn’t know us.”

“He was just concerned, that’s all.” I try to rub the tension in Tucker’s chest but he doesn’t budge. His muscles are firing up and he’s raking his hand through his hair. He hops out of bed and that’s when I realize he’s only wearing a pair of boxer briefs. He paces the room, anger in every step. Quite frankly, I’m beginning to feel concerned for Logan’s welfare. Shit, I never should have never said anything. I can kiss goodbye study sessions over here with Logan, as there’s no way Tucker will allow him in this house.

“He doesn’t need to be concerned because it’s none of his goddamn business.” Tucker turns toward me, one hand on his hip, the other pulling on the back of his neck. Frustration courses through his body and you can visibly see it in how his body flexes with fury, like he’s about to spin around and punch the living shit out of my wall. “So what did he say? Did he tell you to break up with me? To move in with him so he can take care of you because I’m some fucking monster?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what did he say?” Tucker asks, anger pouring off him.

Think, Emma. Diffuse this situation. Make it better, because right now it seems like Tucker is about to have an aneurism.

I sit up on the bed and push my back against the wall. “Can you please come sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

His face relaxes and instantly turns into concern with a slice of regret. “Shit,” he mutters and sits down next to me. He pulls me onto his lap so I’m facing him and he places his hands on my hips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous. I’m just . . . fuck. I’m irritated. I don’t like that whatever he said upset you. What we have is between us, Emma, and no one else. “

“What do we have, Tucker?” I ask softly, wanting desperately to hear that he feels the same about me as I do for him.

He lifts my chin and looks me in the eyes. “We have something fucking special. Something that makes me happy. You make me happy, Emma. Everything about you from your smile to your laughter, to your healing touch, I can’t get enough of you.”

I swallow hard. “But don’t you think there are some things between us that are holding us back?”

“Like what?”

Sadie.

Isn’t it obvious? And what about the room I’m not allowed in? But instead of bringing up my best friend, I say, “Your mom, you don’t ever want to talk about her.”

“I don’t,” Tucker agrees. “She’s a vile woman who deserves what’s been handed to her.”

“Don’t you think you should talk about it though? For healing?” I’m totally alluding to something else. Hint, hint, Sadie, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“There is nothing really to talk about, babe.”

“Then why is she on the rules of not to talk about?” HINT, HINT!

He runs both hands over his face and blows out a long breath. “Because, she’s not worth the words. She was a terrible mom. When my dad wasn’t around, she didn’t care that she had a child. There were days where I only had a meal to eat because I scrounged it up from the school or friends helped me out. And when my dad passed, it was all downhill from there. I had to fend for myself. The only good thing that came from my mom was her signing off on me working for Julius at such a young age. Granted, I caught her when she was high as shit, but I got her signature and from there on out, I was self-sufficient. She’s a piece of crap, Emma, not worth talking about.”

I cup his face, my heart breaking for the boy I knew so many years ago. I was either naïve, or totally oblivious to real life, but I never really got the impression that Tucker was fighting to provide for himself as a kid. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed it.”

“You didn’t know. Not many people did. I didn’t wave around my dirty laundry asking for help. I got it where I needed it.”

Aka, Sadie.

My heart rips apart.

It stings.

How I now wish I was the one who helped him back then, the one who took him in and took care of him, not Sadie.

“Still. I wasn’t a good friend.”

“You’ve always been a good friend, Emma.” He brings his lips to my forehead and kisses me softly. “You’re better than anything I deserve.” He sighs and says, “I’m sorry Logan made you question what we have. I don’t want you worrying, Emma. We’re solid, babe. There is nothing for you to worry about, okay?”

We’re solid, babe.

Nothing to worry about.

His answers seem so simple, and yet, it feels entirely way too complicated.

He brings his mouth close to mine and repeats, “Okay?”

I stare into his soulful eyes. They speak of his intentions, the intentions Logan so blatantly said are ill warranted. But from my point of view, from where I can see it, he’s genuine. And I might regret this, but I nod. “Okay.”

“Are we going to be okay?” His eyes search mine. “Because I’m addicted, Emma. I’m addicted to you and I don’t want anything to stand between us.”

Are we going to be okay?

Can he truly be so oblivious? There is one giant elephant standing between us. How can he not see that? Or is it not an issue because I’ll never . . .

“I know.”

“So we’re good?”

I swallow hard and nod. “We’re good, Tucker.”

He lets out a long breath and then sinks us down on the mattress. He lays me on top of him and strokes my hair with one hand as the other holds me close to his body. His warmth wraps around me and eases some of the building anxiety. There might be some unanswered question on my end, but right now, lying here in Tucker’s arm, I know one thing: I’m addicted to him as well and I’m pretty sure he now holds my heart in his hands. What he does with it is up to him.

I just hope I don’t break.