16. Tucker
"So, are we gonna talk about this?" Dakota’s voice pierced through the comfortable silence as we walked through the corn maze. She kept her tone casual, but I could sense the weight behind her words.
I glanced at her, noticing how she had veered off toward a row I could already tell was a dead end. With a slight grin tugging at the corner of my lips, I reached out and gently grabbed her shoulders, turning her around. "Talk about what?"
She rolled her eyes, brushing off my feigned ignorance. "You know what."
I didn’t respond right away, letting the quiet of the maze settle between us again. The rustling of the corn stalks in the cool evening breeze filled the space, and the muted sound of voices drifted from somewhere outside the maze where they were judging scarecrows. Overhead, the stars peeked out, dotting the night sky with a kind of stillness that calmed me more now than it ever had before.
But this wasn’t about the maze. Or the stars. Or even the night.
Dakota wanted answers.
"Fine," she said after a beat, her voice tinged with playful frustration. "Don’t tell me why you did it."
I knew exactly what she meant, but I played dumb anyway. "Why I told your parents our relationship was real?"
"No," she quipped, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Why you decided to have two slices of pumpkin pie when I could tell you were already full from supper."
I chuckled, my chest rumbling with the sound. The way she could flip the mood with a joke—it never failed to catch me off guard. "I’m a growing boy."
"Right, right. Like you could grow anymore." Her eyes sparkled with amusement for a moment, but the curiosity underneath hadn’t faded. She shifted, brushing a hand against her arm as though trying to shake off the chill of the night—or maybe the tension between us.
Either way, it was the universal sign that she was cold, and I wasn’t dumb enough to miss it. I took off my jacket and dropped it onto her shoulders with less care than I could’ve, and we both laughed as she nearly crumpled under the weight of it. But before I could ask if it was too big for her, she slid her hands through the too-long sleeves and wrapped it around her like a robe, inhaling deeply.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
"But seriously," she said, her voice quieter now. "I wanna know why you lied to them."
"I didn’t lie to them," I corrected, bumping her shoulder lightly as we walked. The corners of my mouth twitched as I looked down the correct path in the maze, jerking my chin to guide her before she went down the wrong one. My height had many advantages. "We shook on it, remember? There was even some spit, though it belonged to a goat and not us."
She laughed, the sound soft and warm, like music cutting through the stillness of the maze. But when she shook her head, I could tell she was still unsure. That uncertainty lingered between us, weaving through the maze just like the paths we navigated.
I stopped, reaching out and turning her slightly, meeting her gaze. "I told your parents the truth."
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. "You… Um, sorry, I think I have corn maze dust in my ears. Come again?"
"Wildcard," I said, my voice soft but firm, "I told your father I’m interested in you. But you already knew that, didn’t you?"
She faltered for a moment, her gaze dropping to the ground before meeting mine again. "Maybe."
I stepped a little closer, watching her carefully. "Maybe because you’re a little interested in me, too?"
Her lips curved slightly, the barest hint of a smile teasing her mouth. "Maybe."
I swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment between us. "I also told your dad that you’re safe with me. And that’s true."
"But… Oh, I see," she said, her eyes narrowing as if she were piecing something together. "You didn’t lie… You just didn’t tell them the whole truth. You’re interested in me, and I’m safe with you. But just because those things are true doesn’t mean we’re actually dating, right?"
"If you want it to mean we are, it means we are," I said, keeping my tone steady, careful.
Her brow furrowed as she tilted her head. "Why if I want it to?"
"Because both parties should, in a deal like this. And I do."
A playful smirk tugged at her lips as she crossed her arms, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Am I at the Dash N Go? Because this sure feels like a transaction."
I groaned, but a chuckle escaped. "You’re…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," she interrupted with a wave of her hand.
I shook my head, grinning at her antics. "Hmm. I was planning to say ‘disarming,’ but what did you think I was about to say?"
Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she brushed it off with a flick of her hair. "Nothin’." Her voice wavered just enough to give her away. "How would that even work, anyway? Us datin’? They weren’t wrong back there when they said I wouldn’t date a tourist. Well, they were kinda wrong because I have before, but it didn’t work out either time simply because they were tourists. You may not be in town to enjoy a little slice of small-town life, but you are leavin’."
My stomach tightened at the word tourist. I shoved my hands into my pockets, hoping to ease the tension building in my chest. "Yeah... Yeah, I am. But I don’t think that means we can’t date."
Dakota arched a brow, amusement dancing in her eyes as she nudged me playfully with her shoulder to keep walking again. "Whatever happened to not playin’ with fire?"
I slid her a half-smile. "I like fire."
She hummed softly, her voice dipping with curiosity. "Mmhmm. So, it’s okay with you that this relationship would be doomed from the start?"
"Maybe that’s just not how I see it."
Her eyes sparkled as she threw me a sidelong glance, curious and teasing all at once. "Oh, yeah? And how do you see it?"
I took a breath, searching for the right words, my gaze lingering on her face. "I think we owe it to ourselves to see what this is, even if we don’t know what it will be in the future. Or maybe... especially because we know that."
"Why especially?" she asked, her expression softening as if she were truly listening now.
"Well," I said, my voice low, thoughtful, "we’re different in a lot of ways, but I think we’re both used to certainty, right? I’m always on the hunt for answers, and you know what you want, and where you want to be fifty years from now. You know your roots and who you are."
Dakota blinked, clearly surprised. "Jeez, you sure know a lot about me."
I shrugged, the corner of my mouth lifting into a smile. "I pay attention."
"So," she began slowly, "because we both like certainty, we should date for real because at least we’re certain it won’t go anywhere?" Her nose wrinkled in that way that told me she didn’t like the idea one bit.
"I think it’s more about it being good for us to do something we’re not so certain of, for once."
She snorted delicately, apparently not willing to let me off that easily. "Do you fold your throw blankets?"
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Are you ever serious?"
"No. Answer the question," she shot back, grinning. "I’m just lookin’ for other ways we’re similar since the certainty thing is kind of a weird thing to have in common."
"I don’t have any throw blankets."
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, okay. Now I’m certain we’re doomed again."
Before I could respond, Dakota stumbled slightly as we turned a corner in the maze, and I instinctively reached out to steady her. She laughed, brushing off the moment, but having her in my arms again—however briefly—sent a jolt through me that I couldn’t ignore. This girl…
"Tell me how you got that scar on your eyebrow," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through my thoughts.
I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
Dakota pointed to my eyebrow with a teasing grin. "Shouldn’t I know a few things about my fake boyfriend before I decide if I want him to be my real boyfriend?"
I chuckled softly, running a hand through my hair. "It was a Stiletto."
Her eyes widened. "Someone threw a shoe at you? On a case? Were you followin’ around somebody’s cheatin’ ex, and then she caught you tailin’ her and threw the shoe at you out of spite? Or wait, wait, was it after you told the husband what you’d found out about his cheatin’ wife, and she hunted you down and gave you a piece of her mind?"
Wincing, I shook my head. "Nope, none of that. It was my ex."
Her face fell, concern flickering in her eyes. "Oh. Shoot, Tucker, that’s awful. I’m sorry."
"It’s fine," I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "You aren’t assuming it was a funny situation?"
She met my gaze, her voice steady and soft. "I don’t joke about domestic violence, first of all, and um... you’re not very funny. I didn’t think you were about to tell me a joke."
Even as I chuckled, I nodded, deeply grateful for her understanding. "Fair enough."
She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. "Did y’all part ways before it got too bad?"
"Why aren’t you worried about my part in the... conflict?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
Dakota’s eyes softened, and she put a hand on my arm to stop me from walking again. Then, she stepped closer and very deliberately reached up and cupped my cheek. "I don’t know you well, Tucker Black, but I believed you when you said I was safe with you. I think anyone would be. I hope I’m not wrong, but I really don’t think I am."
I swallowed hard, her words hitting something deep inside me. "You’re not."
A part of me wanted to tell her everything. About how that relationship had spiraled. About the guilt and shame that still gnawed at me, even though I’d done everything right—kept my distance, never raised a hand or my voice in anger, got away before things escalated too badly. But now wasn’t the time.
Still, I was grateful she hadn’t assumed the worst. Her belief in me meant more than I could put into words.
"Sorry I asked about the scar," she whispered, her voice soft with regret.
"Don’t be," I said, my voice gruffer than I intended. "My turn to ask you something?"
Dakota smiled, the tension easing from her face as she chuckled, and we casually started walking again. "Oh, are we takin’ turns, now?"
"If you’ll let me."
She tilted her head playfully. "Proceed."
I hesitated for a second, then dove in. "What’s the deal with Dr. Dummy?"
Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft laugh. "Yikes, I guess I deserve that after what I asked about."
I felt my body tense, all of my senses on high alert. "Did he hurt you?"
"No!” Her hand immediately flew to my arm, as if to calm me down. “No, I’m sorry. Not physically. It was more of an emotional ride... One I never should have bought a ticket for in the first place."
I exhaled slowly, shaking out my arms. When had I clenched my fists?
Clearing my throat, I worked to get it together. "So... What happened, then?"
Dakota sighed, a distant look flashing across her face. "Well, obviously, you know we work together. We have for a few years now. And about a year ago, we happened to find ourselves in the same storage closet?—"
"Wait, do I want to hear this story?"
She swatted my arm, laughing. "Hush, I’m not about to tell you anythin’ bad." She sobered a bit as we continued walking. "He admitted that he had feelings for me, but he didn’t want anyone at work to know because he didn’t want them to talk about me."
"He didn’t want people talking about you?" I frowned, feeling a surge of protectiveness I hadn’t expected.
She shrugged, clearly trying to downplay the sting. "He made a great case for why it would be bad for me, bad for my career... but it was all about him. Didn’t want anyone findin’ out he was datin’ another nurse at the same time."
I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening again. "That guy’s a fool."
She let out a short laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Anyway, it’s for the best. I’m not surprised he wanted to hide me, other nurses or not. He often said I was too much, and he wasn’t the first one, either. Sure he won’t be the last."
"To tell you that you’re too much?" I asked, my voice low, serious.
She nodded, though the way she looked at the ground told me she was trying to hide how much that sentiment still hurt. "Yeah... It’s a common thing. Everyone knows it, but hey—I don’t know how to be less, ya know?"
"You shouldn’t try to be."
She snorted, clearly expecting me to brush it off. But I didn’t.
I wouldn’t.
"I’m serious," I said, stopping in my tracks before stopping her, too. "Don’t ever make yourself less because someone else thinks you’re too much."
Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and uncertainty flashing across her face. She wanted to believe me—I could see it—but she was scared. Scared that maybe I didn’t really mean it.
But I did.
And if that loser wasn’t man enough to enjoy every bit of her—as much as she could give—he wasn’t a man at all. Not a good enough one for her, that was for sure.
"You sound like a motivational speaker," she joked, but her voice wavered slightly. "Can you write that out on a sticky note so I can put it on my bathroom mirror?"
I stepped closer, my gaze never leaving hers. "Here’s something for you to put on a sticky note: Any guy who thinks you’re too much for him isn’t enough for you. Got it?"
She stared at me for a moment, her mouth opening slightly as if to say something, but no words came out. Maybe she wanted to make another joke—ask me for a pen or something. But I was glad she couldn’t. It meant she was listening. Her eyes softened, and I thought I’d gotten through to her, but then I saw the doubt lingering, like she was afraid to trust what I was saying.
"Oh, please," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"What?" I said, my voice firm. "I’m serious."
She let out a soft, shaky laugh. "Well, yeah, ya always are. But that doesn’t mean you’re speakin’ the truth. You think I’m too much, too. Admit it."
I shook my head, and when she started to walk again, I gently wrapped my hand around the collar of my jacket and brought her to a halt. Then, I leaned over her shoulder, casting a larger-than-life shadow on the ground that covered hers completely.
Bringing my lips to her ear, I whispered. "No."
Her breath hitched. "No?"
"No. I’m not admitting that because I don’t think you are. That’s not how I see you."
She turned to face me and looked up, her eyes searched mine, wide and vulnerable. "And how do you see me?"
I swallowed hard, the air between us thickening. "I see you a lot of ways... but right now, the biggest thing I see is that you’re scared."
"What?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "No, I’m not."
"You are," I said softly, stepping even closer, putting us barely an inch apart now. "I think you’re scared that I don’t think you’re too much, and you’re not sure how to handle that."
Dakota’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat. The tension between us crackled, the air around us humming with the pulse of these whispered words, feelings being acknowledged that we were still halfway trying to fight.
She blinked, her eyes locking onto mine, her voice barely above a whisper. "And what are you scared of?"
"You," I answered, my voice low, rough.
And then, before I could stop myself, I leaned in and kissed her.