Chapter Five

EMMA

It’s Binghamton, New York, there has to be apartments available.

So wrong.

So incredibly wrong.

There is nothing.

That is why I’m sitting in a small U-Haul truck, staring at a charming house with a brick chimney gracing the front, while Logan jabbers in my ear about how he could still make room in his place. As nervous and uneasy as I feel right now, I don’t think I could stay at Logan’s, even though he would try to make it as comfortable as possible.

“This place seems pretty far from campus.” Logan looks around, assessing the area. “Nice neighborhood though.”

“It’s not far. It’s actually a quick jump onto the highway straight to campus, and the hospital is close too.”

“Em, are you sure about this? You haven’t seen him in a year. He could be—”

I place my hand on Logan’s arm and turn toward him in the truck. “Logan, what’s the real issue? Why don’t you want me to live here?”

He links his hand with mine and plays with the connection as he looks down at it. “I don’t know this guy, Emma. What if . . .” Logan pauses and takes a deep breath. “What if he tries to drive some kind of wedge between us? You’re one of my very best friends, Em. This is our last semester. I want to spend as much time with you as I possibly can and I don’t want some dickhead I don’t know trying to ruin that. I don’t want to lose us.”

Immediately my heart crumbles into pieces from his confession. I cup his face and say, “Logan, that could never happen. Tucker is not that kind of guy. I promise.”

He lets out a long breath and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me? We’ve shared a bed before, I’m not opposed to doing it again.”

“Nice try.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Nothing is going to happen to our friendship. I care about you way too much. These last few months are important to me. I want to spend as much time with you and Adalyn as I can before our lives turn from practice to a reality.”

“So I can come over and broody eyes isn’t going to kick me out?”

“Broody eyes?” I laugh out loud, tilting my head back. “He does not have broody eyes.”

“Please, he has the whole broody eyes thing down. I saw how he was looking at you from across the bar. It’s how he won Adalyn over so quickly. She was practically licking the bar counter while you were talking to him.”

“She was not.” I laugh some more over how ridiculous Logan sounds. “He is not going to stop you from hanging out with me. I promise. He’s a pretty cool guy, Logan. You two might actually really get along. Give him a chance. He’s had a bit of a rough year or so. Once he gets to know you, you two will get along swimmingly.”

“Swimmingly?” He quirks his lip to the side. “Not sure about that, but whatever.”

“Thank you.” I pull the keys from the ignition and say, “Come on, let’s unload the five boxes I have so I can get to studying.”

“Always opening the books. That’s my girl.” Trustworthy Logan, I adore the guy. He’s always there for me when I need him.

I step out into the chilly Saturday afternoon air and quickly zip up my jacket. The weather has been decent all week but the day I have to move, it’s scattered flurries and nipple-tightening cold.

Before I head to the back of the truck, I take in the sweet and quaint neighborhood. All the houses resemble the Cape Cod-style but differ from one another in their own right. All very well kept, making it seem like the perfect little place to live, a neighborhood I would never have pictured Tucker living in. Seems almost odd, like a family belongs here . . .

Oh my God.

A family.

My heart feels like it falls out of my chest as my brain starts connecting the dots. This house, this neighborhood, it’s meant for a family, a family Tucker planned on having. The family he lost. My breathing starts to pick up, my throat closing in, just as Tucker pops out of the side door, hands tucked in his pockets as he approaches, a small smile on his face.

“Need some help?”

I push back the tears that want to fall for my friend and nod, knowing words won’t form right now.

Tucker starts to walk past me to the back of the truck when he stops right in front of me and lifts my chin so I’m forced to make eye contact. Please don’t see my sorrow; please don’t see the pain I feel for your loss.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, way too perceptive.

“Uh, nothing. Just chilly.” I sniff.

He studies me, looking between my eyes, searching for answers. The intensity is almost too intense. I can’t let it break my walls or disintegrate me under his light touch.

“Is everything okay over there?” Logan calls from behind the truck, pulling both our gazes toward him.

I shake Tucker off and nod as I head back to the truck to start unloading. “Just cold, that’s all.”

Not buying it, Logan whispers, “Did he fucking say something to you?”

“What?” I ask, surprised. “No, of course not. I just . . .” I lean forward and say, “I thought of something, I’ll tell you later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Putting on a bright smile, even though it feels like there is a battle of emotions warring inside me, I start unloading, watching Tucker lift two boxes at a time, Logan following right behind him. Thankful for two strong men helping me, I lift a sitting chair my grandma gave me that I repurposed and follow them both into the house. We walk through the front where I’m greeted by a white fireplace off to the right, brilliantly beautiful oak wood floors, and a spacious living room that’s connected to a dining room by a sweet archway. The thick moldings and antique knobs give the house vintage character, making it more than charming. But with all its little bits and pieces of character, it’s lacking one big thing: furniture. There is absolutely no furniture in the house, nothing hung, not even a knickknack above the fireplace. Not that Tucker is a knickknack kind of guy, but a picture frame would have at least added some hominess to the space.

“Tucker, your house is so cute.”

“Thanks. Back here.” He leads us past the dining room that connects to the kitchen and a staircase leading to what I’m going to assume is the master bedroom, and off to the left, a small hallway. We veer off to the right and into a bedroom that is spacious, much more spacious than I expected. There are two large windows that span almost the height of the wall and the beautiful floors I can’t get over continue into the bedroom as well. The walls are a neutral grey, which is a nice calming tone, and the room right next to mine is a bathroom. The space couldn’t be more perfect.

“This is my room?” I take it all in. “Wow, I feel a little spoiled.”

Logan nods his head and it almost sounds like it pains him to say, “It’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Tucker sets the boxes down and says, “Unfortunately, there is one bathroom so we will have to share, so I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not a problem at all. Just knock before you walk in.” I wink, which brings a light smile to Tucker’s lips.

“Kitchen is around the corner; make yourself at home in there, pretty much everywhere.” He pulls on the back of his neck, his bicep flexing in the process and the strain in in his jaw concerns me. “Uh, I just ask one thing of you.”

“If you’re going to suggest walking around naked on Mondays and Wednesdays, I’m going to have to decline.” I joke but my humor barely reaches his eyes.

Instead of returning the humor, he says, “The room across from yours . . . it’s off limits. Please don’t go in there, don’t ask to go in there, don’t even ask me about it, just leave it alone.” He shifts in place, his eyes fixed on the floor beneath us. “Everything else in the house is yours to play around with, do whatever, set up yoga classes in the living room for all I care, please just don’t talk about the room across from yours, okay?”

“Okay.” I nod vigorously, wanting to convey to him he can trust me.

“Okay,” he repeats, letting out a pent-up breath. “Uh, I’ll go get some more boxes. You can start unpacking if you want so you don’t have to go out in the cold.”

He steps away, just as Logan calls out, “Right behind you.” When Tucker is out of earshot, he leans in and whispers, “What the fuck was that about? What’s in that room?”

I have a pretty damn good idea, but I’m not about to talk about it because the mere thought of what exists behind that door breaks my heart. And it’s abundantly clear it still breaks Tucker’s heart too.

“Nothing bad. I’m sure just something he doesn’t want to talk about right now. Go get some more boxes and stay away from my underwear.”

He scoffs. “You think so low of me, Emma. It burns my soul.” He holds his chest in mock hurt.

Rolling my eyes, I push him toward the door as he laughs and walks out to the truck to help Tucker, leaving me in my new space. Not a bad place at all to spend my last semester in college. I’m already half in love with the little house. Tucker chose so well. As much as I know Tucker and Sadie weren’t right for each other, seeing this very vivid manifestation of his commitment to Sadie, my heart breaks a little more. I didn’t grow up in a house like this, and just in the few moments, I feel myself growing attached. I can’t help wonder if it’s because of the powerful gesture behind its purchase though.

But that’s nothing I have to worry about now. I have a warm, lovely place to stay. The unease in my heart about living with Tucker starts to unravel as realization sets in. I have my own space for the next few months, a comfortable space with an old friend. An old friend I desperately want to reconnect with because even though I’m here to study, I want to know how he ticks and learn everything I missed out on this past year.

***

“How’s it going in here?” Tucker stands at the doorway, his hand gripping the top of the molding, his shirt lifting just high enough that I get a peek of his boxer briefs.

“Good.” I scan my bedroom and chuckle. There are boxes, books, clothes, and pictures scattered all over the space. “It looks like a giant mess right now but I know what I’m doing.”

“I sure hope so, because your floor looks like a nightmare.”

I wave a hand of dismissal at him. “Controlled chaos, that’s all it is. But, I finally figured out where to put my furniture. What do you think?”

He takes in my setup and nods. “Looks legit to me, but what do I know? My furniture consists of a bed and a TV upstairs.”

“I’ve noticed.” Biting my bottom lip, I contemplate asking him about the other furniture, which is non-existent. Will he get offended? Only one way to find out. “I really like what you’ve done with the place. Keeping it very light on the furniture, great idea.”

He chuckles, his chest rising with the sound slipping from his mouth. “Yeah, I haven’t really gotten around to decorating. Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize. I’m so grateful for you offering your house to me. I would be happy sitting on cardboard boxes if I had to. I’m just glad there is a roof over my head right now.”

His brow creases, irritation masking the smirk on his face. “If you were in trouble, you should have called me, Emma. You know I would have helped you out.”

Ashamed, I look down at the clothes in my hand. “I never would have called you, Tucker.”

“Why the hell not?” He steps into the room, his irritated presence making the room feel smaller. Squatting before me, he forces me to look at him.

His unruly hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it all night, and his eyes, they’re bloodshot in the corners, like he’s still carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Unable to lie to him, especially when he only speaks the truth, I say, “Because, I haven’t really heard from you in a while. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to call you up and ask for a place to live. Plus, I uh, I didn’t know you had a house. I honestly had no idea where you lived.”

Still squatting in front of me, he searches my eyes. I feel intimidated under his watchful eye as if there is a certain way for me to react but I have no clue what it is.

Standing, he reaches out to me, his hand extended for me and says, “Fair enough. I guess it’s time we reconnect. Come on, I ordered pizza.”

Smiling brightly, I grab his hand and allow him to help me to my feet. He starts to head to the kitchen when I stop him and point to a box by the door. “That’s kitchen stuff, you interested?”

He scans the box and then smirks at me. “I don’t know. Do you have a bottle opener in there?”

“One in the shape of a lobster.”

Chuckling, he picks up the box and says, “This I have to see.”

He leads us to the kitchen where there is a pizza box on the counter and a six-pack of Angry Orchard. I eye the alcoholic beverage and give him a questioning look.

“Seemed like a chick drink you would enjoy and I would tolerate.”

When he sets the kitchen box down, I dig through it quickly, find my lobster bottle opener, and snag two bottles from the six-pack. I pop them open and hand him one. “For the record, I’m a whiskey girl if you want to drink with me.”

“Whiskey, huh?” A lazy smile spreads across his face. “Damn, Emma, I never would have guessed. You’ve always been the girl drinking lemonade with a touch of vodka at parties.”

“I’ve ventured out in college. It’s hard to drink heavy alcohol when I have to deal with you hooligans blowing crap up and severing limbs.”

“I don’t remember limbs being severed, but you didn’t always have to be the one to take care of all the drunk idiots. You could have had fun too, Emma.”

“I did.” I flip open the lid of the pizza and grab a slice. Grease drips off it, just like every other New York-style pizza as I fold it length-wise and bring it to my mouth. “I’ve just had a little bit more fun in college.”

Before he grabs a piece of pizza, he steps forward, encroaching on my space and places his hands on my hips, his fingers igniting a wave of heat in my body.

What the?

Before I can ask what he’s doing and get too distracted by the delicious smell of his cologne, he lifts me up on the counter and then steps toward the pizza box to grab a slice for himself. He sits on the counter across from me and says, “Now you’re living under my roof, I demand that you have fun these last few months of college. No more of this taking care of people shit. We are all grown-ups, if we decide to sit in a pile of poison ivy, that’s our own damn fault.”

I laugh out loud, thinking back to the party last summer where Amy sat in poison ivy and I spent the night with her bare ass in my face as I tried to dab it with itching lotion.

Continuing, he adds, “I’m serious. You have a few months before you have to start acting responsibly. Might as well let loose these last couple of months, right?”

“I have been letting loose.”

“Yeah, but I want to see it, not just hear about it.” He winks and takes another bite of his pizza. No wonder Sadie had such an off-again on-again relationship with this man. He oozes sex appeal with just one simple wink.

“It’s nothing special, you know. Me drunk and all.” I pick at the cheese on my slice, feeling a little nervous around him, a feeling I’ve never felt before. All because one wink? Get a grip, Emma!

He shakes his head and takes a sip of the Angry Orchard he bought for us, wincing as he swallows. “I’m not just talking about getting drunk, I want to see you loosen up.” He takes another bite and holds up his finger while he chews. Once he swallows, he says, “I’ve known you for a long time, Emma, and every time I’ve seen you, you were either playing nurse for our dumbass friends, or your nose was stuck in a book, studying—”

“For good reason. You don’t want a nurse treating you who has no idea what she’s doing, now do you?” Does he think I’m boring? Gosh, I hope not.

“I really don’t.” He chuckles. “But that being said, I have a rule for this household.”

“Yeah? Is it buy furniture so we don’t have to sit on counters?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Didn’t you see the last issue of uh . . .” He scratches the back of his neck and looks up at me through his eyelashes, boyish charm written all over his face. “Shit, I don’t know any decorating magazines, there goes my joke.”

“Oh, does Playboy not offer interior decorating ideas? Is it really just about the articles?”

He nods and points his bottle at me right before he brings it to his lips. “That and the tits, Emma. You can’t forget the tits.”

I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never looked at one.”

“Seriously?”

I nod. “Seriously. Why would I? I don’t want to diddle myself to bare-breasted women.”

The strain in his neck is evident as he swallows hard from my comment. He clears his throat and asks, “Do you diddle yourself?”

“Do you think that’s an appropriate question to ask your friend?”

He studies me, his intense once-over drawing a line from my toes to my eyes, causing a shiver to run up my spine. “Fuck yeah, it’s an appropriate question.”

“Fine, do you self-mutilate?”

“Yes,” he says without skipping a beat. “Come on, that was a toss-up question. Every guy does and if he tells you otherwise, he’s a liar who probably does it twice a day.”

“Twice a day? Doesn’t that hurt after a while?”

Tucker laughs and hops off the counter to grab another slice of pizza. When he stands next to me, I catch a second whiff of his cologne . . . what is that heavenly smell? A little sweet, a little woodsy, with a huge dose of pheromones . . .

“Babe, if you’re using any kind of lubricant, you can rub one out as many times as you want.”

Babe? God, that’s cute coming from him.

“Yeah? What’s your record for one day of masturbation?”

Did. I. Just. Ask. Tucker. Jameson. How. Many. Times. A. Day. He. Masturbates?

Emma!

“Like how many times?” He bites his slice but doesn’t retreat back to his counter; noooo, he stands next to me, his broad frame making me feel tiny.

Answering his question, I nod.

“Hmm, all-time record?” He calculates in his head, a smirk on his face. “I would have to say about thirty.”

“Thirty?” I nearly choke on my drink as I spit out the number. “How on earth could you get hard thirty times in one day?”

He’s laughing now. His hand is wrapped around his waist as he bends over. That gives me a great view of his back muscles flexing with every bout of laughter. The sound is deep, earthquake-esque, shaking my entire body to its core.

“You’re stupid.” Mature, I know. I hop off the counter and carry my drink and another slice of pizza toward my bedroom. I don’t make it past the kitchen doorway before Tucker is wrapping his strong arm around my waist, halting me in my progress. I freeze from his hold, and goosebumps spread like a curtain of arousal as his low laugh filters through my ear. His heat surrounds me, capturing me.

“Don’t be like that. Remember, loosen up.”

I turn on him, our bodies only a few inches a part, and I hold back the catch in my breath, not wanting to show him how much he’s affecting me right now. I’m tired, that’s what this is all about. I’m just tired. And it’s been QUITE a long time since I’ve had sex.

“Fine, you want me to loosen up?”

He nods, putting some more distance between us to grab his drink that he clearly is only drinking to quench his thirst, not because he’s loving the appley taste. “I do, that’s why I’m setting the rule that once a week, you have to put down the books and do something fun.”

“Oh, is that how this is going to work?” I tease. “Your house, your rules?”

“Damn right.” He smirks over his drink.

“Do I have any say in the matter?”

He shakes his head and then a slow, drawn-out smile starts to spread across his face. Uh oh, something is brewing in that handsome head of his and I’m not actually convinced I’ll handle whatever he’s coming up with.

Shit.