Chapter 20 #2
I’m ready to thank him for that when a loud crash rattles the ceiling. My hands come up to cover my head and Tucker hovers over me as if we’re both bracing for the blow.
But it doesn’t come.
He stands, extending his hand to help me up. “We should probably go rescue the rest of the house from Nan.” He snatches his hand back quickly, bringing it to his chin as if deep in thought. “Unless we leave her be and she can go at that vintage tub with the hammer.”
“Don’t talk about my tub like that.”
He laughs and I do too.
He extends his hand again, this time leaving it there. “Come on, Scottie.”
I nod, carefully closing the box and pushing it back into the storage space before I take his hand. The moment our palms connect, the warmth surges through me.
This time when I walk toward the crew and where everyone is, it’s not because of a schedule or a cue. I step forward because, finally, this house feels like it’s opening itself up to me.
I stand in the middle of the bathroom with my hands on my hips.
The tile is finally gone. We let Nan stay to take out some of her built-up rage on those, which means we got them removed in record time. The dumpster outside is now full of pink debris that felt impossible this morning, but is now gone, giving me a fresh slate for this room.
Before Nan left I wanted to ask her questions, but she claimed a hot shower and recorded soaps operas were calling her name. I don’t blame her because she put in a lot of work helping us get rid of the tile.
I wipe sweat from my eyebrows with the back of my wrist. The bathroom feels naked, like it’s showing us its bones.
The heels clicking in the hallway force me to turn my head to the empty doorway.
Seconds later, Andrea fills the space, phone in hand, clicking away.
She finally lifts her head. “All right. We’ve got the demo footage we need.
The chemistry and banter are reading well on camera.
I figured we could tackle installing the single sink and the flooring tomorrow. Does that work?”
I bite my tongue so hard, I almost taste blood. I’m so sick and tired of hearing about the chemistry between Tucker and I instead of the good progress we’re making on the house.
“Yep,” I settle on.
“Perfect! See you tomorrow, Scottie.”
I watch her leave and listen for the click of her heels to fade before I sigh, relaxing my shoulders.
I take a few steps to the window over the toilet, leaning forward to look out and notice the incredible view from up here.
It’s been so long since I’ve stayed this late after filming—embracing the quiet of this house without any drills or hammers around me.
It’s peaceful in a way I’m not used to. The lake in the distance sits low and glassy, catching the last streaks of sunlight in its reflection, and the mountains rise behind it in soft blue layers that don’t even look real.
This house feels like my home, even half torn apart.
But could I live here?
When I first came to Bluestone Lakes, I didn’t know if I saw myself staying here when the project was over. I knew I wanted a place to call my own, but could this really be it? Do I want it to be it?
I stand upright and step away from the window, my body crashes against someone, and I let out a shriek. When I turn around, I see Tucker standing there, arms crossed and grinning.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I tell him. “Don’t you have to leave to go to work?”
“Griffin is covering the bar tonight.”
My heart kicks into overdrive again. He’s choosing to stay here with me. Or maybe I’m just looking into it too much. Oh my god, what is wrong with me?
“The plan is flooring tomorrow?” he asks, and I nod. “I hope you’re prepared to pick a grout color so we don’t have to argue about it.”
I aim to kick him in the shin, but he dodges, laughing under his breath. My stomach does a traitorous flip at the sound. It’s the kind of laugh that screams trouble and tells you to stay away before you’re sucked in too far again.
Before I can say anything back, he points to the tub. “Want to start scrubbing the tub? It’s going to take a while, and we can at least get it cleaned up at least before we need to re-glaze it.”
I swallow. “Uh. Yeah. We can do that.”
He moves to a box of tools off to the corner of the bathroom, digging through it before pulling out a package of candy. He looks over at me before tossing me the pack. I’m unsure what to think, catching it with ease as I roll it over in my hands. I notice it’s already open.
“Are you a fan of Sour Patch Kids, too?” I ask with a laugh. “Feels like half the bag is gone.”
“I’m more of a sweets guy,” he says, still digging through the box in front of him. “Donuts and cinnamon buns are definitely my thing.”
I tilt my head to the side, and look into the package of candy.
I stare down and notice there’s no yellow or green.
My fingers go cold around the bag. It’s such a stupid thing.
It’s candy. It’s Sour Patch Kids. It’s the kind of detail that shouldn’t matter in a space where we’re supposed to be worried about the pink tub that’s offended him.
But it matters.
Because it means he remembered I don’t eat the yellow or green ones.
“So…the yellows and greens just vanished on their own?”
Tucker finally looks up, shrugging like it’s nothing. “Figured you wouldn’t miss them.”
I swallow, blinking. “You remember that?”
He hesitates—just for a moment and then nods. “Yeah. I remember.”
I look down at the candy again, picking out a blue and popping it in my mouth. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
“You’re welcome,” he says, going back to digging in his box.
I stuff the rest of the candy in the pocket of my overalls as he finds a couple of sponges. He tosses me one, and I catch it even though I’m caught off guard.
I kneel by the tub and he takes the spot next to me.
Too close.
Always too close.
We start scrubbing in silence, tension swirls around us.
It’s so thick that I’m having difficulty breathing.
Every so often, his arm brushes mine by accident, heating my skin.
I feel myself scrubbing harder and faster.
Subconsciously, I think I just want to get this done faster, so I can stop pretending.
I’ve been doing it all fucking day, and I’m exhausted. I want to breathe.
“You’re going to ruin the finish if you keep scrubbing that hard,” Tucker says.
I stop scrubbing and narrow my eyes at him. “Why do you care? You hate this tub.”
“Because you do.”
The words come out so quickly, like he didn’t have to think about them. He cares because I care about this tub.
“That…uh, that doesn’t make sense.”
“All I’m saying is, try to be a little more gentler on the tub. Otherwise, you’re going to scrub the pink off. Consider it constructive feedback.” He reaches down into the tub where some water sits and flicks it up at me.
I gasp. “Did you just…attack me? With dirty water?”
He shrugs, smirking.
“Oh, it’s so on.”
I reach down, cupping a palm full of water and splash it toward him with full force.
He freezes, and my eyes widen. Water drips from his jaw onto his thin, white tank that he’s still wearing.
My hands cover my mouth as he looks down at the “damage” I caused, and then slowly lifts his head, eyes narrowing. “You just declared war.”
“I dare you.”
We both stare at each other for a beat before we reach down, splashing each other with whatever water is there, barely able to keep our eyes open.
We find small buckets in the corner, taking this water fight to the next level.
Now, we’re slipping around on the floor, but neither of us gives up.
His laugh vibrates off the walls. I aim for his face every time, but he shields it like we’re in battle.
We’re both now completely drenched and breathless. It’s almost ridiculous.
But then, I slip. Just enough for my stomach to drop and my arms to flail.
Tucker catches my waist instantly, like he’s been waiting for me to fall so he could prove he’d be there to hold me up.
His grip is solid, but the heat of his touch brands my skin through the soaked cotton.
My body is pressed against his. It’s hard enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine, and soft enough that neither of us pulls away.
“If you wanted me closer, you just had to say the word,” he says, breaking the silence.
Everything inside me goes quiet. The air thickens and my pulse slams so loud it echoes in my ears.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice low.
I’m learning quickly that I can fake a polished look for millions of people online, but one look from Tucker and it all unravels.
“Yeah,” I lie, standing straight but not putting distance between us. “I thought you’d let me fall. But you…caught me.”
With his hand still on my waist, he squeezes me. “I always will.”
I don’t know how to take those three simple words.
His eyes bore into mine, and darkness washes over them.
Desire pools in my gut as his fingers dig into my hips like he’s trying to decide whether to let go or pull me closer.
He leans in, letting his breath brush my cheek, and suddenly the water on my skin feels ice cold compared to the heat spiraling through my body.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.
He tilts his head. “Like what?”
“Like you’re about to kiss me.”
His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers, just enough to send heat crawling up my spine. Then his eyes are back on mine, and Christ, I can’t fucking breathe.
My pulse trips over itself.
My chest feels heavy.
Everything inside of me pulls tight and sharp, lighting up in places I forgot existed.
“Maybe I am.”
If he kisses me right now, I’ll break.
If he doesn’t, I’ll break anyway.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, looking at me like I’m his next breath. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
I shake my head, and he leans in.
“I’ve been dying to kiss you again. Every single fucking time I’m around you.”
I no longer have the power in me to stop him. Despite my head screaming for me to step away from him, I can’t. I lean in too, closing my eyes in anticipation of feeling his lips on mine again.
The sound of my phone blaring on the floor near the door pulls us apart like we just got caught doing something we shouldn’t be doing.
I rush to my phone, looking down at the screen. “It’s…my mom.”
When I look up at Tucker, there’s an expression on his face I can’t quite make out. It’s something that resembles pain.
“I’ll give you privacy,” he says, brushing past me and leaving me alone in the bathroom.
An ache forms in my chest, and I can’t figure out why.
I answer the video call, trying not to sound like I was one second from kissing a man.
My mom’s faces appear on the screen.
“Hi, Mom.”
My mom squints, coming closer to the phone as if that will help her see better. “Scottlyn, you look…messy. I thought you were supposed to be maintaining your image out there for the show.”
I pull the phone far away from my face and circle the bathroom to show her. “We just gutted the bathroom and it was a lot of work. It’s hot today.”
My dad comes into view, and I light up when I see him.
“Hi, honey,” he says, taking the phone from my mom. “How’s the house coming along?”
“Good,” I say, nodding repeatedly. “We’re going to finish up the bathroom tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” he says, and I feel pride just from hearing his words.
Then my mom takes the phone from him. “That tank top is not flattering, honey. And why is your hair soaking wet?”
My stomach sinks. “I’ve been working.”
“Working is no excuse to look like you just rolled out of a dumpster. This show is a big deal for you. I just don’t want you to embarrass us, okay?”
My jaw tightens, and this is one of the many moments I wish my dad would step in, but he doesn’t. So I fake a smile. “Sure. I won’t.”
My mom changes the subject to ask me what I plan to wear for the rest of the filming process.
Asking me if I have enough outfits so I’m not repeating anything.
She tosses in some comments about things I should add to the house during the process, despite my telling her my blueprints were done before we even started.
“I know your dad asked you how the house was coming along already, but will you make the deadline for the show so they can call it a success?” my mom asks. “People will never take you seriously if you don’t nail it. Or whatever the show says.” She rolls her eyes.
My stomach drops thinking about how I only have about two weeks left. “Yeah. Right on time,” I tell her, even if I don’t know for sure what will happen by the end of this project.
By the time the call ends, my cheeks hurt from faking a smile. I drop the phone back down where it was before. When I stand up and turn around, I catch my reflection in the mirror that’s still mounted on the wall. I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper to no one.
I feel like I’m caught between the version of myself I’m supposed to be and the one I’m scared I might actually become. Tears burn the corners of my eyes as my mom’s words echo in my head, scraping at a part of me I thought I could bury beneath filters and perfect lighting.
I’ve spent so much of my life performing perfection that I barely recognize myself without it.
The person I was on that call? She’s built for approval.
But the person staring back at me in the mirror? She’s real.
She’s messy, but she’s human.
And for the first time, I wish my parents saw me the way Tucker almost did.
Like I’m someone worth choosing, even without the performance.