Chapter 6 #2
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Softie.”
“Hey, you look into those eyes and try to refuse her.”
Touché.
He shifted closer, enough that I could now testify that he still smelled amazing, even after a long day. While I dealt with that knowledge, he stroked the cat’s ears, and she closed her eyes in bliss.
“After I paid a fortune to have her fixed up,” he said, “I took her to the humane society, who said they’d give her five days before euthanizing her.”
My heart pinched. “How long did you last?”
His smile was rueful. “I got to my truck, caught my reflection in the rearview mirror, and went back in. During those three minutes, they’d named her.”
“Cute.” I smiled. “Did your left eye just twitch?”
He pressed a finger to it. “You called me ‘cute.’”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t mean it.”
He almost smiled. I could tell.
“So you kept her. Her Fluffiness. The name alone should’ve been a red flag.”
“I tried to give her to Kiera. She said she already manages enough poop.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “The cat insists on being outside at night. Problem is, everyone feeds her, and it messes up her stomach.”
“And then she pukes in your shoes.”
“It’s her love language.”
I laughed, a sound that came out lighter than I felt. “Thanks again, by the way. For yesterday. Getting my van back.”
“You needed it for work.”
“I know I was a jerk. I’m…sorry.”
“You were in shock.”
And yet he hadn’t forced me to go to the hospital. He’d given me a carefully calculated amount of time to get my shit together and come to the realization on my own. “I mean, I could’ve done without the memory lane.”
A small smile curved his lips. “That was the best part.”
I rolled my eyes and handed him the cat. Our hands brushed. Our chests brushed. I’m pretty sure our hearts brushed.
We froze.
Something flickered. Old. But also new. Dangerous.
What if you fall for him again? What if he breaks your heart again? What if you don’t survive it this time? What if, what if, what if…?
Her Fluffiness twisted in Tucker’s arms to gently headbutt me in the cheek.
I melted like a stick of butter on a hot roof.
Tucker’s eyes softened very slightly as he cocked his head. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! It’s your cat.” I pointed at her for emphasis. “She makes me mushy.”
“Just the cat, huh?”
“Yes! It’s absolutely not you. Not even a little.” Oh God, I was rambling. I couldn’t stop. “Because, obviously, we aren’t doing this.”
“‘This’?”
“Yes!” I waved my arms for emphasis. “I don’t repeat mistakes. So you and me? Never again.”
He just raised a brow.
Right. He hadn’t given me any indication he would even want to. Gah. “You know what? I’m going to stop talking now.” But I knew subtitles would still come out of my face.
Back in the day, when one of us was feeling too much, hurting too much, hating everything too much, we’d climb into Tucker’s old truck and drive out to the quarry. We’d take a couple of axes and swing at granite and rock until we felt better. “I need something hard to destroy.”
He went brows up.
I rolled my eyes. “Like your giant, boulder-thick head.”
“Ouch.” He laughed. “Are you…flirting with me?”
“You’re the one who made it weird.”
“Why didn’t you go out with Rob?”
I nearly choked. “What?”
He just gave me a long look.
“Wow, would you look at the time—” I whirled to go…
And heard him mutter, “Walking away. Shock.”
Dammit, he was right. I was a stage-five runner.
My fight-or-flight instincts screamed flight.
But I made myself turn to face him anyway.
“Okay,” I said. “Here’s the thing. I’m trying to figure myself out.
I know people here expect me to be who I was.
But I’m not that girl anymore. Problem is, I don’t know who I am now.
I’m working on it, but…” I paused to swallow a lump in my throat. “I think maybe I’m…brok—”
“Don’t you say it.” His voice cut through the dark like a blade. “You, Hazel, are not broken.”
The words hit like a warm hammer, cracking something brittle inside me I hadn’t realized I’d been clutching tight. I didn’t know if I believed him. But for the first time in a long while…I wanted to.
I met his gaze, startled by the intensity in his fierce eyes. By his defense of me. His second defense of me, if I counted what he’d said to Caleb. That same tightness hit my chest, the one that always came late at night, when I felt like maybe I’d misplaced the best version of myself.
“You asked why I didn’t go out with Rob.
I see people in love, even people who swore they’d never fall again.
But me?” I slowly shook my head. “I can’t even imagine it.
It’s like a color I forgot how to see.” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see pity in his.
“That’s why I said no to Rob. Because he deserves someone who can love him back. ”
Stunned silence.
Part of me wished I could claw the words back one by one and hide them deep inside where they belonged, but it was too late. They were hanging out there to dry.
I was hanging out there to dry.
Tucker drew a deep breath, and I dropped my hands from my face to find his eyes on me, soft with apology. “I shouldn’t have asked you about Rob.”
I shook my head. “You couldn’t have known what was going on with me.”
“No.” His voice was almost terrifyingly gentle as he set down Her Fluffiness and closed the distance between us. “But I’m glad you told me.” He shifted, the faint movement as tense as the air between us.
Being the sole focus of his attention was thrilling but unnerving as it also laid me bare before him and yet grounded me in a way I hadn’t realized I’d missed so dearly. I soaked up his steady presence, the way he saw straight through me and didn’t look away.
“I haven’t felt…that way for anyone since I left here,” I admitted. “There’s been no one I couldn’t live without.”
“And you think that makes you broken,” he said. A statement, not a question.
“Well, I wasn’t like this before.” We both knew that. “But maybe it was because I knew I had people who cared about me. I felt whole and supported.” And loved… “I’m trying to heal so I can handle things better, the trauma of my past, all the anxiety that goes with it, but it’s a slow process.”
“You don’t heal to handle trauma… You heal to handle joy.”
I stilled as, moved beyond bearing at his words, I stared at him.
“What?”
“I’m… That was…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Moving. Wise. Unexpected.”
“I have my moments.” He stepped into me, his usual mask cracking under the weight of the moment. “I know we fell apart, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. Because I do. Very much. So you can talk to me. Or, hell, yell at me. I can take it. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
Once upon a time, stuck in detention together, I’d told him I didn’t believe in soulmates, and he’d drawn a heart on my hand in Sharpie anyway. He’d said, “Then we’ll just make our own rules.”
And I’d believed him.
Now I blinked back tears. “Thank you. That…means a lot.”
He reached for me. Deliberately unhurried, giving me time to back away if I wanted.
I didn’t. For once I didn’t open my mouth and blow it or, worse, run. Without even thinking, I walked into his arms for a hug I hadn’t known I needed. My fingers brushed his jaw; my thumb slid over his cheekbone. His skin was warm. Stubbled.
Real.
I wanted to kiss him. Not because I was lonely to my core. Not because it was a smart idea.
But because he made me feel something I wasn’t sure I remembered how to feel. Like hope.
And then there was the terrifying inkling that I might not be broken after all.
His face… My heart raced at the surprise softening of his features, the way his usually sharp composure seemed to come undone.
“Well,” he said, setting his cheek on the top of my head, voice rough. “This is…interesting. It’s still here.”
“What is?”
“Animal magnetism.”
No kidding. And since I didn’t want to discuss it, I changed the subject. “FYI, same goes about the talking. Yelling. Sitting in total silence. Anything you need.”
He lifted his head, and this time his smile was the opposite of soft. It was…wicked. “Anything I need?”
I snorted and shoved him back, glad I hadn’t given in to my sudden urge to kiss him. “Keep dreaming.”
He laughed, but I was pretty sure I heard him quietly say, “I will,” as he left.
Two minutes later, I was back in my van.
Not tired. Pulse still elevated.
That had been a close call, and it left me feeling restless. In the past, I’d have solved the problem by heading out to look for trouble and finding it. But tonight? Tonight, I needed something else.
So I grabbed my keys and headed out—on my terms.
I was done running.
I was choosing, even if I still had no idea where I’d end up. At least this time, I’d be the one at the wheel.