Chapter Three

EMMA

“Three Old Fashioneds, heavy on the booze,” I call out to the bartender. I take a seat at the bar in The House of Reardon, a bar we frequent when we don’t want to be caught up in the college life in downtown Binghamton and just want a peaceful drink.

“Three?” Logan asks. He strips off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair.

“Adalyn is going to meet us here.”

“I thought she had to babysit her niece tonight.”

“Niece got the flu. Adalyn wanted nothing to do with that and I don’t blame her, especially since we already have to be around a disease pit on a daily basis.” I pull out my phone and start searching through my emails, hoping and praying for any kind of news on apartments.

“Hey, guys.” Adalyn sits next to Logan just as the bartender sets down our glasses. Logan hands the man his card to open a tab. He always insists on paying for our drinks since he saves mad money on rent, but Adalyn and I never leave the bar without slipping cash in his pockets. He never mentions it so either he pretends we never pay him, or he is beyond clueless and thinks his pockets grow money.

“Hey, Adalyn,” I mumble, not looking up from my phone. Rejection after rejection email hits me. “Ugh.” I black out my phone and rest it on the bar. “I’m never going to find a place. It’s official. I’m going to be homeless. Any luck on your end?” I ask Adalyn. We split up inquiries to help each other out with our workloads.

Adalyn shakes her head, but there is something in her eyes that says otherwise. I’ve known Adalyn for a while now, so I know when she’s lying because she does this thing with her lips where she presses them up toward her nose. Rather odd quirk actually.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Adalyn takes a sip of her drink and then sets it back down on the bar. She holds her glass with both hands and stares at the liquid as she speaks. “I haven’t found anywhere for us to live.” She swallows hard. “But my sister offered me space in her basement for the rest of the semester.” Apology is written all over her face as she turns to me. “If there was more room, I would say you could stay with me, Emma, but the room is already the size of a closet and if it wasn’t free, I would turn her down so we could find a place together but . . . it’s free.”

My hearts falls to the sticky floor of the bar. Great. Adalyn has a place to live and honestly, I can’t even be mad at her. If I had the same opportunity, I would be saying yes before I could even blink in surprise from the offer.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m going to help you find a place though, I promise.”

“It’s okay.” I sigh and lean back in my chair. “You don’t need to apologize, Adalyn. That’s one hell of an opportunity. You can save so much money until we graduate. I would be mad at you if you didn’t take it.”

“But what are you going to do?” Adalyn asks.

“I’ll figure something out.” I take a sip of my Old Fashioned. Whenever I drink with my friends back home, I have one drink, often because I’m too concerned with making sure none of them accidentally trip and fall into the bonfire. When I’m with my college friends, I drink. And tonight, I plan on drinking, and drinking a lot.

Logan nudges me with his shoulder. “The offer still stands to room with me.”

“And shack up in your bunk with you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we shared.” This time he wiggles his eyebrows and a blush creeps over my cheeks.

No, it wouldn’t be the first time. Ohhh, Emma and Logan sitting in a tree, right? No. Well, sort of, but no.

We went out for drinks after our first year semester finals and ended up getting wasted, a little too wasted. Since his place is walking distance from the bars, we crashed in his bed, the top bunk. We made out for quite some time, fondled each other but then passed out due to intoxication. I woke up that morning with his flaccid penis in my hand and his bottom lip stuck to my nipple.

Not my best night, or best morning for that matter. After an extremely awkward morning, we came to the conclusion such copious amounts of liquid should never be consumed together because we didn’t want to ruin the friendship we had. We’ve made out on different occasions after that—what can I say? He’s a great kisser—but never took it any further. Nothing is quite like waking up with a limp penis in hand to ruin any romantic vibes. This past year though, strictly platonic, just the way I like it with my Logan.

Turning toward Logan, I say, “As much fun as it was sharing a tiny bed with you on top of crusty sheets—”

“They were not fucking crusty. Retract that statement. I don’t want people thinking I’m some jizzing asshole who never changes his sheets. Fuck me if I don’t use fabric softener. I think it’s a waste of money.”

A laugh pops out of me. He can be so damn sensitive sometimes. “Anyway, you have one bathroom between all six of you. It would never work.”

“We can fit you in the shower schedule. How do you feel about midnight showers?”

“Not favorable.” I laugh and take another sip of my drink, welcoming the burn of the alcohol down the back of my throat.

“Hey, Emma,” Adalyn whispers, leaning forward and looking over my shoulder.

“What?” I mimic her approach.

She nods behind me. “That guy over there keeps staring at you.”

Lifting up, both Logan and I say at the same time, “What guy?”

“Don’t look . . . ugh,” Adalyn groans when we both turn to see who she’s talking about.

Sitting in the corner of the bar, a short glass of what I know is whiskey in front of him, his shoulders slouched, but his gaze fixed on me, is the one and only hometown heartbreaker from where I grew up: Tucker Jameson.

When we make eye contact, his head tilts to the side and he smirks. Right there, that look—a slight smolder in his eyes, the broad set of his shoulders, muscles in his chest no man his age should have, and the scruff that lines his strong jaw—that is the look that broke many hearts.

Two years older than me, he was in a tumultuous relationship with one of my best friends, Sadie. For years they were on again, off again, pushing each other’s buttons until it all fell apart. It caused a ripple in our little inner circle as we were forced to choose sides. I was never a fan of their relationship, knowing the kind of strain it put on both of them, but once it was over, I focused my attention on my best friend. It took time and patience, but she needed to move on with her life.

I can still see the hollow look in Sadie’s eyes after she lost the baby, after she dropped out of Cornell University to be a mom. Life as she knew it was flipped upside down and then taken away from her. Smilly, our other best friend, had to pick up the pieces and luckily, we didn’t have to glue her back together, Andrew, her boyfriend, did that.

I grew up in a small town, a town where everyone knew everyone. There were ninety-five kids in my graduating class, so small is an understatement. But with a small town, comes strong bonds. To this day, four years after we went our separate ways from high school, we still get together during the summer and hang out, party, reminisce on all the good times, and create some new ones too. But this last year, Tucker was MIA and now that he’s only a few feet away, I can’t help but think about what he’s been doing all these months. Has he recovered from his relationship with Sadie?

Guilt consumes me as the back of my neck starts to flame from my neglect. Should I have offered more support to Tucker?

“Do you know him?” Logan asks, whispering next to my ear.

I nod. “I do.” I pick up my glass and hop off my bar stool. “I grew up with him.”

“Damn,” Adalyn says from behind me. “I wish I grew up with him. Hell, I wish he would grow inside me right now.”

“Self-respect, Adalyn,” Logan chastises. “Christ.”

“Be back.” With drink in hand, I walk over to Tucker who turns on his stool, one arm still resting on the bar, the other gripping the back of his chair. He watches me walk toward him, and I realize it’s the way he’s always watched women walk toward him: with unbridled attention. It would be intimidating if I didn’t know the boy Tucker once was.

“Never would I have imagined seeing your tiny ass in a place like this. I thought college girls like yourself hung out downtown,” he says in greeting, that smirk turning into a full smile now. He runs his hand through the side of his already unruly hair, giving him some amazing sex appeal. It’s really unfair how some men can grow hotter and hotter by the minute.

I pop my hip to the side and say, “I’m almost a graduate. I have to start expanding my bar options. Downtown is so last year.”

Like second nature, I open up my arms and pull him into a hug, which he returns, bringing me into his familiar arms. Since Sadie is one of my best friends, I’ve spent a lot of time with Tucker, a lot of time talking him down when he and Sadie would get in a fight, and a lot of the time lecturing him on how to handle Sadie who also dealt with her fair share of childhood drama.

“It’s good to see you. Where’ve you been? I didn’t see you at Smilly’s for her Christmas gathering. You missed out on dirty Pictionary.” Smilly is the queen of the group. She throws the parties whereas I watch over the parties, ready to spring into action when needed.

“Wasn’t my scene.” He shrugs and then takes a sip of his drink.

Wasn’t his scene? Translation: he didn’t want to see Sadie with her new boyfriend who everyone loves. Hell, Tucker even liked Andrew before he knew Andrew was dating Sadie. It’s hard not to like the guy. And I would never say this to Tucker, but Andrew is perfect for Sadie. He has shown her joy, contentment, and the softer side of life, qualities from a man she needed . . . desperately. Not that Tucker couldn’t give her those things, but it was as if they were stuck and couldn’t find their way out of the quicksand sucking them both in.

Tucker has always been somewhat serious and somber, as if he carries the burdens of many on his broad shoulders. He hid this from most, but I spent a lot of time on the outside watching my friends hurt each other, time after time. Looking at him now, he still seems somber and serious, but also . . . melancholy. When he smiled in greeting, it almost looked as though he doesn’t do that as often as he used to. Smile, that is.

Knowing diving into the reasoning he avoided the group at Christmas would be a tad cruel, I say, “Well, we missed you. It’s never the same without you.”

“Maybe next time.” It’s a generic response, one I don’t think he means. I’m not sure we’ll ever see Tucker at another party, and that makes me sad.

“How’s life? How’s the job?”

He nods. “Good. I’m a project manager which has its good and bad days.” He glances over at Adalyn and Logan and nods, “Boyfriend?”

I laugh as I look back at Logan and shake my head. “No, just a friend.”

“Huh.” He takes a sip of his drink and then looks at me with a tilt of his head. “The way he’s staring at you, you could have fooled me.”

“Just friends.” I pause and then ask, “Want to meet them? You’re just sitting here over by yourself, might be nice to have some company.”

“How do you know I’m not waiting for someone?” he asks, a smirk on his handsome face.

“Are you?”

“Nah.” He chuckles and stands from his chair. With his arm wrapped around me, he walks me back to my friends.

When I approach, Adalyn’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. It’s a natural reaction when in Tucker’s presence. He’s gorgeous with his dark blonde, messy hair that’s trimmed shorter on the sides and thick on top, his five o’clock shadow, light blue eyes, and unforgiving, hardworking muscles. But Logan doesn’t look as thrilled with the addition to our little get-together.

“You guys, this is my friend Tucker. We grew up together, he knows far too many secrets about me from middle school that will horrify you and if he wants to keep his balls intact, he will keep those stories to himself.”

Leaning over to shake hands with Adalyn and Logan, Tucker quickly winks at me and says, “We’ll see.” He turns his attention to my friends, pulling from his outgoing personality that never seems to fail him, and shakes their hands. “Tucker, nice to meet you. It’s rare I get to meet people outside our little friend circle, especially friends of Emma’s. Whenever I see this girl,” he wraps his arm back around my shoulder and squeezes me tight, “she’s either butterfly stitching someone’s head or patting down their ass with Neosporin. I’m glad I caught her without her first aid kit tied around her waist and instead with a drink in her hand.”

“You’ve never seen her drink?” Adalyn asks and then says, “Oh, I’m Adalyn by the way.”

“Ugh, I’m the worst,” I reply. “Tucker, this is Adalyn and Logan. Sorry.”

He nods at them and then says, “I’ve seen Emma drink, but I’ve never seen her get drunk.” He smiles down at me. “She always took care of us.” The sentiment is sweet. I know my friends from back home appreciate me, but it’s always nice to hear on occasion.

“You’ve never seen Emma drunk?” Adalyn asks. “Wow, that’s surprising since I feel like I see drunk Emma more than sober Emma.”

“Seriously?” Tucker’s eyes shoot up to his hairline.

“No.” I playfully swat at Adalyn. “She’s lying. I don’t drink that much. But when I have time off and need to relax, I might throw back a few Old Fashioneds.”

“And shots of whiskey,” Logan adds, tipping his drink back into his mouth.

“Well, fuck, I’ve never seen this side of Emma.” Tucker rubs the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on me. “Next party, you’re getting your ass wasted. No excuses.”

“That’s if you show up.” I’m joking, but there is a layer of darkness that blankets his expression, and it makes me sad. Tucker is different to most guys. He masks his demons and always tries to put on a good show for everyone around him, which he’s doing right now.

My question is, why is he drinking tonight? Alone. Does he do this often? I’ve been so consumed with my life that I’ve neglected catching up with my friends. How long has he been going to bars by himself? Is this something I need to be concerned about? My need to know—to care—kicks in, but not here. He’s not an open book when it comes to his life, especially in front of people he doesn’t know very well.

Two fingers push against the wrinkle in my brow. I look up to Tucker who pulls away. “What’s with the worried face?”

“She has no place to live,” Adalyn answers before I can even formulate a response. “We got evicted from our place a few days ago and have to be out in two days.”

“Adalyn,” I chastise, not wanting Tucker to know about my woes. I’m the girl who always has everything together, the friend who can see ten steps ahead.

“You don’t have a place to live?” Tucker asks, concern in his voice.

Squeezing my eyes together for a brief second, I turn to him and say, “Eh, I’ve got it handled. Just waiting to hear back from a few places, that’s all.”

“They all said no.” Come on, Adalyn! What is she drinking over there, truth serum?

“It’s all right, she has a place to stay,” Logan says, nudging me with his shoulder.

Leaning over the bar to see me, Adalyn says, “There is no way you’re going to share a three-bedroom apartment with six men.”

“Six men?” Tucker raises an eyebrow at me. “I could see five, but six?” His teasing lightens the irritated mood moving through me.

“It’s temporary until we can figure something out.” Logan grips my hand to let me know he’s serious. “You can have my bunk and I’ll take the couch. It’s better than having no place to go.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “It seems like a lot of people for a small place. I don’t think I can do that to you . . . or me.”

“It’s not a big deal. Tyler and Travis are never home and if they are, you don’t see them very often and the other guys, well, they think you’re cool.”

“They’ll make you do their laundry and cook them food,” Adalyn points out.

“Not true. We know how to cook dinner and do laundry. Just the other night we made a five-gallon pot of Kraft Mac and Cheese. We even fried some of it.”

“And the kitchen almost caught on fire.” Adalyn snickers to herself.

“Last fucking time I tell you anything.” Logan’s scowl is washed away when he turns back toward me. “Seriously, we can make it work, Em.”

“You can stay with me.” We all turn to look at Tucker who is leaning back in his chair, his glass dangling in his hand and his head tilted toward the ground, his eyes the only thing pointed in our direction.

“What?” The bewilderment in my voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “I . . . do you . . . where do you even live?” Caught off guard, yup, that would be the perfect way to describe how I’m feeling.

“I have a house in Hillcrest. Probably a ten-minute drive to campus.”

“You have a house?” When did this happen? How did I not know? Am I a bad friend for not knowing? Does everyone else know?

“Yeah.” He shifts in his chair, drawing back just slightly. He clears his throat and adds, “There are some things I need to fix in it, but it has a spare bedroom.”

“You’re serious.” Live with Tucker Jameson?

“Yeah.” He shrugs and then looks at his watch. Standing from his chair, he dresses into his black leather jacket, which fits him like a glove, and lays a twenty on the bar top. “You have my number, think about it.” He nods at Logan and Adalyn, pops the collar of his jacket to avoid windburn, and says, “Nice meeting you.”

Then takes off.

All three of us turn back to our drinks and stare at the counter, trying to recover from the Tucker whirlwind that just blew through.

“Holy shit, he’s hot,” Adalyn mumbles while gulping down the rest of her drink. “If it were me, I would be asking him for his address right now.”

“Em, I know you were friends growing up, but you didn’t even know he had a house. You can’t be that close to the guy.” He sounds irritated.

I hate to say not that close, because we used to be. Seeing him in the bar tonight, on his own, It actually makes me sick to my stomach to think that he’s been grieving so . . . alone.

“We used to be close; our entire group of friends were close, but this past year, we’ve all been trying to look for jobs, graduate, and when his ex-girlfriend moved on, he stopped hanging around us because I think it was too hard on him. I don’t have much downtime and when I do, it’s spent with you guys.” I take a sip from my drink. “God, I’m an ass, I should have checked up on him more. I really don’t know what he’s been doing for the past year. I’m such a bad friend.”

“No, you’re not.” Logan pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head. “You’ve been consumed with earning your RN degree. You know friendship is a two-way street, right? It goes both ways. He could have reached out to you as well.”

I shake my head. “That’s not the kind of guy Tucker is. Plus, I’m best friends with his ex, Sadie. He wouldn’t have reached out to me for that sole reason.” Not to mention, he was undoubtedly aware that I’d never been a true supporter of him and Sadie together.

“You can reach out now,” Adalyn suggests. “Reach out and stroke his penis.” She laughs hysterically at herself, makes a lewd gesture, and taps the bar for another drink. Oh, Adalyn.

“I don’t know.” I sigh, unsure what to do. “On one hand, it’s a place to live, which I don’t have in two days, but on the other, it’s my best friend’s ex-boyfriend. Even though we’re friends, would that be weird?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Logan and Adalyn talk over each other, defending their stances. Much help they are. Should I consider this? Or is that crazy? I still have some time. I can find a place. It’s Binghamton, New York, there has to be apartments somewhere.