Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
RAY
Elbow on the table and cheek in his hand, Tucker pokes the barely eaten cannoli cream-stuffed French toast on his plate. Either he isn’t feeling well, or he’s bored out of his mind. My guess is the latter.
For the third weekend in a row, we haven’t left the house. Tucker has no idea why, but he’s miserable over my decision. But I’d rather him be frustrated and safe than scared and hurt.
“Not hungry, bud?” I point at his plate with my fork. “Best stuffed French toast I’ve made.”
Lips pursed, Tucker gives a half-hearted shrug. “It’s fine.” His tone says otherwise.
I hate that I have to fake enthusiasm to keep Tucker sheltered from all the bullshit in my life, but the chaos that is his mother is not his burden to bear.
Leaning toward him, I nudge his arm. “It’s fine,” I mock then chuckle.
Tucker doesn’t react. He just keeps swirling the fork tines through the filling.
“Talk to me, bud.”
On a dramatic huff, he drops his fork, shoves back from the table, crosses his arms over his chest, and stares at me as if I’m dense. Several minutes pass in silence, each more strained and awkward than the previous.
Heartache blooms beneath my sternum as I hold his narrowed hazel eyes. In keeping Tucker out of the line of fire, by keeping him in the dark and sheltering our lives to stay safe, I’ve undone all the good in his life in the past year and a half. One day, one note, one demand is all it took to destabilize my life and, consequently, his.
I’ve never detested someone the way I do Brianna Werner.
Fuck her.
Tucker’s gaze flits to Kaya, his body softening for a brief second. When his eyes meet mine again, I see every ounce of anger, frustration, and hurt. “Did I do something wrong?” The tinge of sadness in his voice breaks every barrier I have up.
Reaching across the table, I lay my hand near his plate. “No, Tucker.” I shake my head for emphasis. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then why am I being punished?” His fists tighten beneath his elbows.
Wood scrapes tile as I shove away from the table and inch closer to him. I reach for him again, but he pulls back. The single move is a knife to the chest, but one I deserve.
I want to tell him why I’ve kept us home for weeks. Why my mood has been trash. Why I have trouble sleeping at night. But the thought of him stressed over something completely out of his control makes me sick.
It’s reasonable to want my son to have a carefree childhood. To live with joy, laughter, and peace in his heart. No child should have to worry over the bad decisions adults make. They deserve to not suffer because of others’ poor choices.
All my protection of him has done is cut a fresh wound. Because I didn’t explain why our lives suddenly went from fun and wonderful to dull and dreadful, I’ve brought his own insecurities and painful memories to the surface.
“Sorry if I’ve made you feel that way, bud.” I take a deep breath, hold it for three heartbeats, then exhale. “I’ve been under a lot of stress and not handling it well. I promise you’ve done nothing wrong.”
In my periphery, Kaya drops her gaze to her lap. I don’t know if it’s because of my answer or lack thereof.
Tucker’s arms remain rigid against his chest as his eyes narrow to slits. His silence in response is a well-deserved slap to the face.
How do I make this better? I want— need —to make it better.
“Maybe we can go to the pool with Grandma today,” I suggest.
This softens his frame a bit. “I miss Jordan and my other friends at the skate park.”
A shiver rolls up my spine, but I do my best to ignore it. My decision to not leave the house comes from a good place, but I’d be a fool to not see the negative impact it has made on him.
“Let’s plan the skate park for another weekend.”
Disappointment blankets his expression.
“That way you can make sure Jordan will be there,” I add.
“Okay,” he says, understanding but disheartened. “Can we do something today? Please.”
I bite my cheek to hide my wince as I mull over a solution.
“May I offer a suggestion?” Kaya speaks up for the first time since we sat down to eat.
Please don’t be something outlandish or risky. Swallowing past the expanding ball of nervous energy in my throat, I nod.
The apple of her cheeks plump as a soft smile curves her lips. Her coppery-brown irises sparkle as they shift from me to Tucker. “How about we start with lunch at RJ’s? If your dad feels better and is up to it when lunch ends, we’ll do something fun.”
Tucker’s hands drop to his lap as his face lights up. “Like what?”
I’d like to know as well.
“After breakfast”—Kaya aims a pointed look at Tucker’s plate—“your dad and I will talk about it. Not eating this delicious French toast is a deal breaker.”
Damn, she makes following the rules sexy.
Tucker cuts into his French toast, stabs the piece, and shovels it into his mouth. One bite after another, he clears his plate. The entire time, I stare at Kaya, utterly astonished.
I’m still not keen on leaving the house, not until Travis Emerson or Tymber Woulf give me good news. But if we go anywhere, a familiar place, one I know inside out, is the best option.
Tucker bolts up the stairs to shower and dress for the day. Kaya helps me clear the table and clean up in the kitchen. A few minutes after the shower turns on, Kaya sidles up to me at the kitchen sink.
“Things have been up in the air, especially since you haven’t heard from her again, but you need this. Both of you.”
I hand her a rinsed plate for the dishwasher. “I know.” Rinsing the next dish, I take a deep breath. “I’ve never been big on gut feelings, but something still doesn’t sit right.”
She loads the next dish I hand her. “We’ll be right there with him. At all times.”
“Not sure I can handle anywhere besides the diner,” I admit.
“And that’s okay.” She presses a kiss to the top of my arm. “But in case you’re up for more, where should we go?”
I mull over the possibilities, and anxiety creeps in as I picture the crowds. “Not sure. I’ll think on it.”
Kaya wipes her hands dry then passes me the towel. “Come on, Chef. We need to get cleaned up and ready.”
Tossing the towel on the counter, I wrap my arms around her waist and hoist her off the floor. Laughter fills the air and is a balm to my soul.
“Only if I get you dirty first,” I mumble against the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
“Yes, please.”
I climb the stairs two at a time with Kaya in my arms and deliver on my promise.
It’s been far too long since life felt this normal.
Tucker tells a corny joke, and my full belly laugh draws the attention of nearby patrons. I don’t care, though. It feels great to laugh, to experience this light, whimsical sensation in my chest. In this moment, life is good, carefree, perfect.
And I owe it all to Kaya.
I may have been hesitant to leave the house, but I’m grateful we did. Kaya is right. Tucker and I need to get out and live. Existing in the constant state of what-if only ends in regret and missed opportunity. I don’t want that for me or Tucker.
Dad stops by the table and chats with us for a few minutes. He tells Tucker about the new bikes he and Mom bought. “We need to test them out, make sure they’re good. Want to go biking after cooking class tomorrow?”
Tucker’s gaze shoots to mine, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Can I go?”
“Of course, bud.” I trust Tucker will be safe with my parents.
Dad ruffles Tucker’s hair. “I’ll let Grandma know.”
“Yes!” Tucker pumps his fist in the air.
“What else are you up to today?” Dad aims the question in my direction.
“Not sure,” I answer honestly.
The lightness in my veins has me eager to do something. To go out, have fun, and see Tucker smile and laugh more. He is my sunshine, my brilliant ray of hope, my light in the dark. He deserves the world, and I want to give it to him.
And it’s in this moment I decide I am done letting Brianna control my emotions, my fears, my life. It’s time to be brave, put my foot down, and say no to her. No more living in a constant state of panic. No more giving up my happiness for an insignificant person. No more letting her dictate my future.
Tucker is mine. My life is mine. And I’m taking both back.
“We haven’t gone bowling in forever.” Tucker exaggerates the last word.
Kaya, Dad, and I laugh at his dramatics. But damn, I wouldn’t want my little man any other way.
“True.” I plant my forearms on the table and lean in Tucker’s direction. “Can I use the bumpers?”
Tucker rolls his eyes. “No. They’re only for kids.”
“What if I’m a kid at heart?”
He sips his root beer float. “It doesn’t count.”
“Fine,” I huff out. “No bumpers.”
He pushes his drink away. “So we can go?” The hope in his eyes is all I need to see to answer him.
“Yeah, bud, we can go bowling.”
Tucker wiggles in his seat. “Woo-hoo!”
That right there is all I need—my happy little man.
“It’s a miracle,” Kaya declares, hands on either side of her head.
“What?” I sit next to her as we watch Tucker approach the foul line.
“I found something you’re not perfect at.”
Glancing at her, I arch a brow. “It’s been a while. I’m still warming up.”
She tucks her lips between her teeth and fights a smile. “Hmm. Okay.”
Tucker hollers, “Yes!” Then, he’s in front of us doing a celebratory dance. Eight frames in, he’s gotten two strikes and two spares. And he’s winning.
I hold up my hand for a high five. “Great job, T-Man. Showing everyone who’s boss.”
He slaps my hand, then Kaya’s, plops down in his seat, and guzzles his drink, an endless smile on his face.
We bowl the ninth frame—Kaya knocks down nine pins, I hit seven, and Tucker gets another spare. The energy is high, and Tucker is antsy to claim his winner’s trophy for game one—he picks dessert tonight.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Tucker says as he rises from his seat.
“Come on, bud. I’ll take you.” I press a kiss to Kaya’s crown. “Be right back.”
We reach the bathroom and I follow Tucker inside. He spins around and raises his brows.
“I can pee by myself, Dad.”
A hearty laugh spills from my mouth. “I’m aware.”
“Go.” He waves me away. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Every instinct in my body screams to ignore him and stay put. But I don’t want to ruin today. Shoving down the niggling fear in the back of my mind, I nod. “Come straight back to the lane. No stops.”
“I will.”
The first step is the hardest I’ve taken in a long time. My feet fight it, but I force myself out the door. For a moment, I loiter outside the bathroom and wait. No one comes out or goes in. I glance around to see everyone talking, taunting, cheering, and having a good time.
He’s safe. No one here wants to hurt him. I repeat it until my anxiety wanes a little. And then I amble four lanes down to where Kaya waits.
She sits up straight, her eyes darting around. “Where’s Tucker?”
I spin around and face the bathroom, my eyes glued to the door. “In the bathroom.”
“Alone?”
Curling my fingers into fists, I nod. “I didn’t want him to think I was hovering.”
Kaya sidles up to me and rests a hand on my arm. “He’ll be okay.”
The voice in my head gets louder, expressing its disagreement. “I know.” I say the words but don’t believe them. Not fully.
The booming sound of balls knocking over pins clashes over and over. As each minute passes with no sign of Tucker, my anxiety blooms anew. He’s fine. But after five minutes, I can’t stand here and not know if he actually is okay.
“Be back in a sec.”
Before Kaya responds, I bolt for the bathroom. Cross the carpeted space in seconds. Push through the bathroom door, only to be greeted by an empty room. No one at the urinals. No one in the stalls. And no one at the sinks. Empty.
Where is he?
“Tucker,” I call out.
No response.
“Fuck!” I storm out of the bathroom and scan every face in the building. Nothing.
Kaya runs up to me, her eyes wide and skin pale. “He’s not in there?”
I grind my molars and glare at her. “No,” I bark out, then rush past her.
She quickly catches up and keeps pace a step behind me.
Passing a large group, I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot the back of Tucker’s shirt. “There you are,” I say as I reach him. “You had me?—”
It’s not Tucker. A young boy so similar in height, hair color, and overall appearance… but it’s not Tucker.
The backs of my eyes sting as the boy stares at me, frightened. “Sorry,” I say. “Thought you were someone else.”
Freaked out, the boy runs off.
My limbs shake as my stomach bottoms out. “Where are you, Tucker?” The question is barely a whisper as I search the sea of faces.
“What can I do?” Kaya asks.
I spin on her, my worst nightmare resurrected. “Anything!” I shout. “This is your fault.” Deep down, I know Tucker missing is not on Kaya. But if we would’ve stayed home like I wanted to, Tucker would be safe. “This was a bad idea. We shouldn’t have come here.”
Tears spilling down her cheeks, she opens her mouth to say something. Before a single word gets said, I bolt for the front desk and alert the attendant. Then I pull out my phone and make the worst call of my life. Again.
Please let him be okay. I can’t lose him. Not like this. Not again.