Piper
“HEY.” STANDING UP FROM MY spot on the porch, I walk toward him, completely caught off-guard by his slacks and dress shirt. I’ve never seen Tucker in anything besides jeans and t-shirts. And naked, but now is not the time for thoughts like that.
“Hey,” he replies, his face full of confusion.
“Dani called me. I was going to come to the farm today, but I thought it was better for it to just be family.”
“You’re family.” He tilts his head as he looks at me, his eyes look tired. Actually, his entire body looks tired. But his words make my heart do funny things.
“Where’s Sammy?” I ask, looking around him toward the truck.
“She’s asleep right now.” He looks back over his shoulder and then back at me. “How long are you gonna be here?”
“Well, I don’t have any plans, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I watch as he unlocks and opens the front door, propping it open with a work boot that’s close-by. “I’m gonna carry her in and put her to bed,” he says, pointing over his shoulder. Then, he jogs back to the truck and gently lifts Sammy from her seat and carries her inside.
Yet, again, I’m stunned into silence at the sight of Tucker while he has his daughter in his arms. I was not prepared for the onslaught of emotions that are hitting me right now. Seeing him again is one thing, but seeing him with Sammy is just . . . damn. Can a woman die from an ovary explosion?
“Piper? You still outside?” Tucker sticks his head out the front door, looking for me.
“Yeah, I’m here.” I wave at him from where I’m sitting on the porch steps.
He smiles as he walks over and sits down beside me, unbuttoning the sleeves on his shirt and rolling them to his elbows.
Focus, Piper.
“I’m really sorry about Sophie.” I’ve wanted to ask about her—about them, but I know now isn’t the time. “How’s Sammy doing?”
“She’s doin’ okay, I guess. I mean, she has her moments where she’s sad, of course, but she bounces back pretty quickly. I’m amazed at how she handles herself, though. Sometimes I feel like I’m the child and she’s the parent. She’s just incredible.”
I smile, watching him gush over Sammy. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m the lucky one, believe me.” He sighs, looking uncomfortable from my compliment. “Enough about me. What’s been goin’ on with you?”
I want to ask how he’s coping, but I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about that right now. So, I tell him the other thing that’s weighing on my mind.
“I’m moving.”
“What? What do you mean? Where are you goin’?”
I’ve thought a lot about how I was going to tell Tucker I lost my job, and I’ve decided to be as vague as possible. He has so much going on in his life, that I don’t want to add to his burdens by telling him our proposal video was what started all my problems.
“I’m going home to Connecticut. I, uh, quit my job the other day, and I decided I need a fresh start.”
He stares at me for a moment before looking out into the field beside the house. I can’t decipher his expression, but from the way his posture goes rigid, it feels like he’s already putting a wall up, blocking me out. I wish I knew what he was thinking.
Finally, he speaks. “Why did you quit your job?”
“I just felt like I’d reached my potential at the magazine and had nowhere else to go. My dad set up an interview for me with a division in his company, so, hopefully, I won’t be unemployed for too long.”
“When are you leavin’?”
“Next week.”
Tucker lets out a deep breath and still isn’t looking at me. “Wow, that’s . . . soon. Are you not plannin’ on comin’ back down here?”
“I’m sure I’ll be back to visit, but I really don’t know what’s going to happen in my near future, you know?”
“I do know. I can relate to that very well, in fact.”
Finally, he smiles at me. It’s small, but it’s something.
“For what’s it worth, you really seem to have your shit together. I’m impressed.”
He barks out a laugh. “I don’t know if I can agree with that, but I’m tryin’. It’s kinda funny that I’m the one who’s settlin’ down and you’re not. Since when did our lives reverse?” He gives me a wink before nudging me with his elbow. I push back against him and try to ignore the jolt of electricity that surges through my body. Just that small contact was enough to set my body and heart on fire, but I can’t give into it.
“How are you?” I ask, needing to know he’s okay—that he’s going to be okay.
“I don’t know. It still feels surreal.” He hangs his head, resting his elbows on his knees. “Some part of me thought she’d get better or something, even though the logical part of me knew she wouldn’t. But deep down, I felt it comin’. So, I guess I was as ready as I could be, given the circumstance.”
“It’s a lot to handle,” I tell him, not knowing what else to say, except I’m sorry and life sucks sometimes. It really, truly sucks.
“This isn’t how I saw my life goin’,” he confesses, looking over at me. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Now, lookin’ back, I can’t imagine my life without Sammy.”
“I knew when you came off the road, you were searching for something. You were restless and unsettled. But you’re different now. You seem content. Maybe it was Sammy you were searching for all along.”
His eyes linger on me and I think he’s getting ready to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, his cheeks fill with air and then he blows it out with a long sigh. Until he finally asks, “Are you hungry?”
“Oh, no. I just wanted to stop by to check on you and Sammy and to tell you about Connecticut.”
“Are you plannin’ on goin’ to Dani and Micah’s?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. Like I said earlier, I really have no plans. Dani doesn’t even know I’m in town. I haven’t talked to her since yesterday.”
“Well, you should come inside. It’s gettin’ dark. And if you’re hungry, you should eat, because Kay sent us home with enough food for a month,” he says, cracking another smile. This time is less sad and more Tucker—sly and full of mischief.
“Okay,” I agree, not needing much convincing.
After a minute or so, he stands, offering me his hand. I gladly accept it and smile as he pulls me up. Our bodies are so close now, we’re sharing breaths. Just a couple more inches and our lips would meet. I want to so badly. Just a kiss. I could handle that much. At least, I think I could. Would it be so bad to try?
Why does this have to be so hard? I could reach up and kiss Tucker right now and say ‘fuck it all’, letting the cards fall where they may. It would feel so good and I’m sure I’d be happy, that we’d be happy. But there’s this little voice inside my head that whispers negativity, poisoning my happy thoughts. What if Tucker’s settling for you? What if you’re settling for him? What if this is just more rebellion?
And then I think of Sammy. She just buried her mother and isn’t looking for a replacement. What kind of replacement could I be anyway? Here lately, I can barely take care of myself.
No. I can’t do it. It’s just not the right time for any of us and I don’t want to push us into something that could eventually destroy us, no matter how good our intentions are. I have to be strong. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be meant to be later.
“Against my better judgement, I wish I knew what was goin’ on inside that head of yours, Piper Grey.” Tucker’s words are barely a whisper but they make me smile. I’m thankful for the interruption of my thoughts, though, and I squeeze his hands before letting go.
“I really don’t think you do, Tucker Benoit.” I walk into the house, leaving him on the porch and knowing he’s watching my every step.
A moment passes before he finds me in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. He’s carrying a large insulated cooler that he sets on a countertop close to me.
“I forgot the food was still in my truck,” he says with a laugh. “Good thing the cooler kept everything warm.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. A little food poisoning never hurt anyone, right?” I joke.
Tucker laughs and starts unloading the cooler, pulling out covered dishes and food wrapped in foil, as well as, what looks to be many different types of cookies in plastic baggies.
“Damn, you weren’t kidding. That’s a lot of food.”
“We, southerners, do any kind of life event big like this. Don’t you know, food heals all?” Tucker winks at me and I swear, it takes everything I have not to jump him.
“Believe me, I do. My jeans are already too tight from all the self-medicating I’ve been doing with food lately.” I say this as a joke but the look Tucker gives me knocks the humor out of me. It’s a mixture of concern and, maybe, desire. No, definitely desire.
He turns to me, his eyes boring into mine. “First, you’re perfect the way you are. Don’t ever forget that. Second, you can always come to me if something is bothering you. You know that, right?”
Words aren’t forming in my brain, so I simply nod my head.
When he’s satisfied enough with my response, he breaks eye contact and turns back to the food. Stupidly, I blurt out, “Is there a third?” Why in the hell did I just do that?
I watch as he chews on his bottom lip, thinking. His decision on how to answer will determine how the rest of the night will go. Finally, he smiles. “Yeah, there is. Third,” he motions to the food spread out on the counters, “pick your poison. Ladies first.”
Relief and, if I’m being completely honest, disappointment rushes through me. Of course, he could’ve used that opportunity to knock all this food to the floor and take me right here and now, but he chose the safe option. The smart one.
We finish our meal, which was a delicious hodge-podge of southern and Cajun foods, and are sitting in the living room when the sound of tiny feet shuffling down the hall reaches us.
“Hey, there, sunshine. Everything okay?” Tucker asks.
Sammy only acknowledges his question by nodding her head yes because her eyes are fixed on me. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, so I smile at her and give her a little wave.
“I heard you talking to someone and I thought it might be Mommy.” Her voice is calm and matter-of-fact, but her words absolutely break my heart.
Tucker gives her an understanding smile. “Sammy, this is my friend, Piper. You talked to her on the phone, remember?”
Surprisingly, this makes Sammy smile and she quickly walks up to me. “I remember you. You’re even prettier than the picture Daddy has of you.”
This catches me off guard for more than one reason and I give Tucker a questioning look. “You have a picture of me?”
He has the nerve to blush, but I know he’s not really embarrassed. Nothing embarrasses Tucker Benoit.
“I may have snapped a few pictures on my phone when you weren’t looking,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
All I can do is laugh because admitting how flattered I am to Tucker would be a wrong move. Instead, I turn my attention back to Sammy.
“Thank you, Sammy. I’m happy to finally meet you in person. I’m also very sorry to hear about your mommy.” It’s hard to know what to say, but I want her to know that I mean it.
“Me, too,” she says. “But she’s still with me. Right, Daddy?” She looks at Tucker and I’m blown away at how much she resembles him.
“That’s right, love. Hey, are you hungry? Want me to fix you a snack?”
She nods and Tucker goes into the kitchen to get her something to eat. He’s such a great daddy, I can tell by just watching this short interaction. I already knew it, or had a feeling, but now it’s in my face and real, and it’s making our just friends status harder to maintain.
Because Tucker as a dad is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever witnessed.
While she waits for her food, Sammy climbs onto the couch and then into my lap, making herself at home and snuggling into me. I don’t want her to sense how shocked I am, so I wrap my arm around her and run my fingers through her hair. There’s something so calming in this moment, so special, but I don’t read anything into it. I just enjoy it.
Tucker enters the room and his steps falter a bit when he sees us. I give him a look that says ‘I have no idea what’s happening’ and his smile just grows.
“I’ve got mac and cheese,” he says, holding up a bowl with a spoon.
“That’s my second favorite.” Sammy looks at me with these amazing, deep blue eyes. “Wanna know what my favorite is?”
“What?” I ask, feeling a little sad when she pulls away, but also grateful for the moment. I barely know what to do with myself—my feelings, instincts. It’s all too much.
“Grilled cheese.” Sammy smiles and waggles her eyebrows. She’s so much like Tucker it’s scary. “Do you like grilled cheeses?”
“I love them,” I admit. “Have you ever put bacon on your grilled cheese?”
Sammy’s eyes light up and then her brows furrow as she turns on her dad. “Why have we never put bacon on them?”
Tucker laughs. “I don’t know. I didn’t know you liked it.”
“I didn’t either.” She shrugs and hops down, walking over to the table where Tucker sets her bowl down.
I get up and walk over, pulling out the chair across from her. Tucker, pulls out the other, and we both sit and watch Sammy. I wonder how he gets anything done. I’d probably do this twenty-four-seven if she was mine.
After a few bites, Sammy’s spoon stops mid-air and her eyes shift from me to Tucker and then back to me. “What?”
Tucker and I both laugh.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “How’s the mac?”
“Delicious.” Her words come out around a large bite of cheesy noodles. “Did Grandma Kay or Nanny Annie make this?”
“Nanny Annie,” Tucker says with a grin.
“That’s what I thought.” She nods as she continues eating.
“Nanny Annie, huh?” I ask with smirk.
“She pretty much has everyone wrapped around her finger.”
“What does that mean?” Sammy asks.
“It means you’re cute and we’re weak against your powers,” he says in a deep, animated voice, causing Sammy to laugh. “Now, finish your mac and cheese.”
After she’s finished eating, Tucker puts her bowl in the sink and looks over at the clock.
“Super late, sunshine. How ‘bout a shower and then back to bed.”
Her bottom lip comes out and she rests her chin on the table.
“Sammy,” Tucker says, trying to get her attention, but she’s staring straight at me.
I look from her over to Tucker. He’s leaning against the counter, watching her with a slight smirk on his face. “Sammy,” he says again, and she slowly turns her head to look at him. “Shower and get ready for bed, then I’ll read you a book.”
She turns her head back toward me. “I want Piper to read the book.”
Tucker sighs. “Well, Piper might not be able to. I don’t know if she wants to stay that long.”
Sammy sticks her lip out a little further and then bats her lashes at me, showcasing those big blue eyes.
Of course I’ll stay. “Sure,” I say, realizing she’s still waiting on my answer. “I’ll stay.”
“Yay!” She claps her hands and hops down from the table, running toward the bathroom.
“Damn,” I say after she’s out of earshot. “She’s good.”
“Tell me about it.” Tucker starts down the hall. “And she’s four.”
“Going on twenty,” I add.
“Don’t say that. I’m not even ready for five, and that happens next month.”
While Tucker is helping Sammy, I help myself around the living room. I’ve been in this house before, but it’s different now. It’s all Tucker, and as I peruse the contents, I realize I’ve never been in Tucker’s space before. We’ve always met up on neutral turf.
I love it. It’s comfortable and so him. I feel like, even if I didn’t know he lives here, I’d still know.
There’s a wall of guitars, one that looks like it’s used more than others resting against the end of the sofa. Next to those is a side table with Tucker’s name all over it, not literally, but I can tell it’s something he made. It’s a dark wood with smooth edges, and the craftsmanship is superb.
On the table are stacks of papers. I assume they’re your typical mail and junk, but on closer evaluation, I realize they’re sheets of music and songs. Some have words written on them. Others have chords and notes . . . things I know nothing about.
When a door shuts down the hall, I jump, causing one of the pages to fall to the ground. Picking it up, I can’t help reading a few of the words.
You’re trouble of the best kind.
You stole my heart and robbed me blind.
One look from you and I hit the floor.
One call from you and I’m out the door.
Gathering the papers up, I try to stack them like they were, hoping Tucker won’t notice that I’ve been nosing through his personal stuff.
Another sheet slips out and I bend down to pick it up, nearly jumping out of my skin when I hear Tucker clear his throat.
Turning around, I feel heat flush my cheeks. “Sorry.” I smile apologetically.
“Find what you were lookin’ for?” he asks.
“Are these all songs you wrote?”
“Uh, yeah.” Now, Tucker is the one whose cheeks are tinged with pink. He barks out a laugh, taking the stack and sticking them in the drawer of the table. “They’re not all great.”
“What do you plan on doing with them?” I can’t imagine him going back on tour with his band. The road is no place to raise a child.
“Well, I was thinkin’ about sendin’ a couple of them to a guy I know in Nashville,” he admits, chewing on the side of his lip. “I’m not sure if they’re good enough, but I think it’s worth a shot. I haven’t really decided what I’m gonna do.”
“I think that’s a great idea. I mean, all they can say is no, right?”
“Kinda what I was thinkin’.” He gives me a small smile. “Now that I’m tryin’ to be a responsible adult, I figured it’d be a good idea to have some financial stability. I can’t really expect Sammy to live out of a van and eat meals comped from bars.”
He laughs, but I know he’s serious and that he’s been giving this some thought. I also know Tucker and I know he won’t be truly happy unless he’s doing something creative. He’s not the kind of person who works a nine-to-five job.
“What about your furniture?” I ask, looking around the living room that’s full of it. “I think you could do really well selling it.”
Sighing, he smoothes back his hair. “I don’t know. Annie mentioned somethin’ about it too, but I don’t know anything about runnin’ a business like that.”
“Wouldn’t take much,” I tell him. “A little marketing, advertising . . .”
“You’re speakin’ a foreign language,” he says with a laugh.
“Daddy!” Sammy yells from down the hall.
“Be right back.”
Tucker jogs off, leaving me standing there. I’m tempted to go for the drawer where he stuck the papers, but I don’t. The few words I read are giving me enough to think about.
Was that song about me?
I’m still standing in the middle of the living room, letting Tucker’s words run through my mind when he pokes his head around the corner.
“You’re up.”
Smiling, I follow him back down the hall and into Sammy’s room where she’s snuggled into a gorgeous canopy bed with pink chiffon on top and a fluffy pink comforter that has butterflies all over it.
“Wow,” I say, checking out the bed and then the rest of her room. “It looks like a princess lives here.”
“I love princesses,” Sammy says dreamily. “Have you been to Sam and Annie’s castle?”
I look at Tucker and he just smiles, shaking his head, so I play along.
“Yes,” I tell her, walking over to her shelf where there is a small collection of books. “It’s beautiful, especially the gardens, those are my favorite.”
“Nanny Annie grows beautiful roses,” Sammy adds. “She’s secretly a queen.” It comes out in a conspiratorial whisper, with her hand up to her mouth.
“Really?” I ask, feigning shock.
“Yes.” Her eyes are wide, but sure, like she knows something no one else knows. “Pops told me.”
“And by Pops, you mean?”
“Sam. Our names are the same.” She yawns and folds her arms behind her head, again looking so much like Tucker. But when I catch a glimpse of the framed picture on her night stand, I see someone else she looks alike. A young woman with dark skin and dark curly hair is smiling back at me, holding a smaller Sammy.
I know it’s Sophie without asking. She’s beautiful, and even in her picture, I see the kindness and gentleness that Sammy possesses.
Genetics are amazing.
“What book are we reading?” I ask.
“Daddy’s been reading this,” Sammy offers, handing me a book.
“Tuesdays at the Castle,” I read from the front of the book.
“It’s about a castle that changes every Tuesday.” Sammy’s voice is filled with awe. “Princess Celie doesn’t know what it’s gonna do.” Her arms go out wide in exclamation.
“Well, let’s find out what’s happening,” I tell her, looking around for a chair, but Tucker’s occupying the only one in the room. I’m getting ready to kneel beside the bed when Sammy pats the mattress.
“You have to lay down here.”
“Okay.” Kicking my shoes off beside the bed, I climb in beside her.
“Here,” she says, giving me a big pink pillow from the other side of the bed. “Use this.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” When she smiles at me, like she is now, it melts my insides. “You’re pretty. I like your hair. So does Daddy. He says it’s the same color as his guitar.”
I glance over to see Tucker hiding his face in his hand. If it weren’t for the slight shake of his shoulders, not doubt from stifled laughter, I’d think he’s asleep.
“Well, you’re pretty too. Prettiest girl I’ve ever met.” On instinct, I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “Now, let’s read.”
Opening the book, I see there’s a pink ponytail holder between two pages and I assume that’s where I’m supposed to start.
I’m only a few pages into the story when I feel Sammy’s head lean against me. Looking down, I see that’s she’s already fallen asleep. I admit, I love looking at her while she sleeps, so sweet and angelic, but I’m a little disappointed she crashed so soon. I was really enjoying being with her. She’s had a long, rough day, though, so she’s earned her rest.
Tucker takes the book from me and places the ponytail holder inside, marking where I stopped, then gently moves Sammy off me and onto her pillow. When he offers to help me down from the bed, I don’t decline. I also don’t let go of his hand until we’re walking into the hallway.
“You’re so good with her. I’m impressed,” he says, once we’re back in the living room.
“Thanks.” I don’t want to read more into his words than I should, so I smile up at him. “You’re a natural. Pretty good yourself,” I say with a wink, trying to keep the moment light. But I mean it—he so is.
Feeling the atmosphere shift, I grab my purse from the coffee table and walk to the door. “I should be leaving.”
“I wish you didn’t have to.”
It’s a simple statement but I know what he’s saying. He doesn’t want me to leave . . . tonight.
But, maybe, he also doesn’t want me to go to Connecticut. I want to ask him—force him to tell me how he feels—but I can’t make those kinds of demands. Not now. Not after everything he’s been through.
Placing my hand on his chest, over his heart, I look up at him. “I wish that, too.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before Tucker’s lips are on mine. It’s not a needy kiss, like he wants to ravage my body the way he used to; it’s a kiss full of meaning, sweet and passionate—saying every word we can’t.
I kiss him back, fantasizing about staying with him forever, but stop when it gets to be too much—when my heart feels like it’s about to explode. There’s one small kiss left to give him, and when I do, it says the word I can’t bear to speak.
Goodbye.