Chapter 11 #3
His jaw ticked. “Caleb’s a dead man walking.”
“Caleb didn’t tell me.”
“Then Ryder.”
“Nope.”
“Kiera?”
I smiled faintly. “Bingo.”
“Fuck.” He let out a low, rough laugh. “That traitor. I’m going to buy the twins a drum set and electric guitar.”
“So is she the dead man walking?”
“No.” He gave a low, rough laugh. “Hell no.”
I stared at him, then snorted. “You’re scared of your baby sister.”
“Terrified.”
I grinned, and he ran a hand over his face.
“It’s cute that you think I’m kidding.”
That made me laugh, but then I realized how close we were. Still wrapped in tension. I could feel it vibrating between us like a live wire.
“You’re not a problem,” he said softly, tipping my head up to his. “You’re part of my life. There’s a difference.”
My heart fluttered with a rash hope I didn’t know what to do with. Not because I didn’t believe him—I did. And that made it worse. He meant it. And I wasn’t sure I deserved it. “I really am sorry,” I said softly.
“I know.” He nodded. “But next time? Just come to me.”
“And tell you, what? I got mad and left you a message I don’t want you to listen to?”
“Yes.”
God, I wanted so badly to lean in, to believe this fragile thing between us could be strong again. That we could be the grown-up version of us, built on something more than lust and good intentions.
I remembered being sixteen and furious with my dad over something so little that I couldn’t remember it now.
Tucker hadn’t said a word. Just handed me a hammer, a bucket of nails, and a length of cedar plank, then sat beside me while I built something just to hear the sound of destruction. He didn’t fix it. He just stayed.
That had always been the difference between us—he showed up. He stayed.
But there was still too much between us.
I had no idea if it was his reluctant smile or the way he looked in work clothes, ready and willing to face anything. Hell, maybe it was the entire package, but my brain aligned with what my body wanted from him.
Everything. My body wanted everything. Dangerous, dangerous waters. “Don’t laugh, but I think we really might need some rules.”
He gave a slow smile that changed the rhythm of my heart, dammit. “You can’t trust yourself with me without rules.”
“Rule one,” I said, ignoring that because he was right. I gestured vaguely between us. “Maintain a safe distance at all times.”
A corner of his mouth quirked. “Should I move to the other side of the country?”
“Ha ha. But I think…” I let my gaze skim over him slowly. “Nine inches should be enough.”
He laughed out loud, and damn. “Nine inches, huh?”
“Don’t say it,” I warned.
So he said it with his eyebrows instead.
On the outside, I rolled my eyes. On the inside, I went soft and pliant. “Rule two,” I said, then faltered.
“Rule two: no more running.”
The world tipped for a half a second, and we stared at each other.
The air thickened. My throat ached. “Rule three,” I whispered. “We leave the past in the past.”
“Starting over?”
I nodded. “Exactly. Hi. I’m Hazel Pierce. Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand.
He slowly took it. “Tucker Colburn. And if you break the rules, you face the penalty.”
“What, you gonna send me to time-out?”
“No.” He leaned in, lips brushing my ear, giving me a full-body shiver. “You face the past.”
Oh boy. “I was hoping for something easier. Like streaking through the town square.”
He laughed, full and low and deep.
I started to smile, picturing him streaking down the street, and had a hot flash instead.
That won me another smirk. “You seem pretty fixated on seeing me naked.”
“Been there, done that,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. “Your naked body’s burned in my mind.”
He gave me a slow, smug smile. “It’s even better now.”
I shoved him, even as something deep inside me quivered. “So humble.”
He gave a warm, rumbling chuckle, and for one shining second, everything in me quieted.
I wanted more of this.
More of him.
And then it hit me like a truck—I still hadn’t told him.
Seattle.
The offer.
And I’d just agreed to a clean slate. The potential move might ruin this truce before it even had a chance to bloom.
I stepped back.
He noticed. Of course he noticed.
“What?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I just…should get back to work.”
He let me go. But he watched me walk away, the weight of his gaze staying with me all the way across the jobsite.
I turned to walk in the other direction and plowed into my dad.
“What?” I asked, startled.
He frowned at me. “You okay?”
I stood there, heart thudding, the ridiculous urge to bolt completely gone. Even scarier? I wanted more moments like that with Tucker.
More of him.
The sunlight slanted golden across the building, catching on the fine sawdust that danced in the air. Voices echoed from the jobsite—someone calling for a level, someone laughing. Life humming forward.
“Hazel?” my dad asked.
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe me. But he didn’t push.
I turned back just once. Tucker was already inside the trailer, fingers moving on his laptop. Already gone.
It was like I wanted to destroy everything we’d just started to rebuild.