Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TUCKER
Iwoke to an unfamiliar ceiling, feeling more refreshed than after any night of sleep I could remember having in a long time.
There hadn’t been any interference from Nighttime to cloud my mind or keep me from getting restful slumber.
It’d just been a sweet abyss and a gentle rise from its waters, renewed once again.
I took a slow breath through my nose, glancing down my body and around to try orienting myself to the space.
A patchwork quilted blanket. Gray sheets.
A hat on the bedpost. Still out of it, I scratched at my chest only to bump against something cool and hard.
My fingers wrapped around it reflexively, the metal quickly warming in my palm.
And then it all came flooding back to me.
Jackson taking my ring off. His chain through my wedding band.
Kisses along my neck that felt scalding and made my stomach flip in anticipation.
The overwhelming need to feel his lips on mine.
Those green-brown eyes blazing with just as much want and need while he was down on his knees.
An orgasm that wrung everything out of me in the best and worst way possible.
I covered my face with my other hand as I let out a low groan.
What the fuck was I thinking? I’d fucking slept with my employee. I’d practically begged him to suck my dick. And he’d done it!
God, if I’d ever thought I had a sliver of a chance of getting into heaven, I knew it was right out the window now.
Resigned to my fate, but still unwilling to face my reality, I slowly pulled my hand from my eyes and kicked back the quilt that’d been laid over my body in sleep—the presence of which did not make my chest squeeze.
But when I went to sit up, I realized the penance for my crimes was already starting.
My left hand flared in sharp pain as I stupidly used it to push myself upright, making me hiss and immediately take the pressure off the injured extremity.
Bringing it around to examine it, I winced a little internally.
The bruising was still just as awful as before, but the swelling around my fingers was more prominent now.
Suppose I needed to offer Mars an apology.
Though, I’d owe her an apology, even if my fingers hadn’t swelled.
The way I’d spoken to her earlier had come from a place of hurt, and I’d been taking it out on my friend of many years, not my live-in vet.
It hadn’t been a conscious choice to foster a family dynamic here on the farm, but this was a three-hundred-sixty-five, seven days a week job.
You witnessed all the high milestones and low valleys in the lives of those working on the farm when you were in close proximity all the time, and despite what people may think of me, I cared.
I may not have been the best at expressing it, but every person on this farm was someone I would go to bat for without blinking an eye.
They weren’t blood, but they were family.
But I’d been doing a lot of mucking up since Jackson Arness arrived.
I’d never struggled with maintaining the respectful, professional boundaries with the others, but that golden-skinned man with his single dimple showed up on my front doorstep, and now it was like I couldn’t keep my head on straight.
Or keep your dick out of his mouth, apparently.
I let out another groan at my thoughts, using my good hand to bury my face. How the fuck had we gotten here?
One minute I’d been struggling to breathe because the concept of losing Raleigh’s ring filled me with so much terror I couldn’t even remember how my lungs worked. The next Jackson was stringing that chain around my neck, telling me we’d claimed each other, and I’d felt…
Whole.
No, maybe whole wasn’t the right word because there was a space inside me that could never be filled again.
But for the first time since Raleigh died, it was like all that energy had somewhere to go.
Like I’d been this geyser, pouring out all this love and grief and regret for a person the rest of the world had already moved on from.
Except I was still here, spilling all of it from this open wound with no reprieve, and it’d felt like it’d been hitting the ground below, only to be evaporated and then somehow recycled right back into me. Or like maybe there was so much of it still there I could never extinguish it.
Then Jackson had held me while all those feelings gushed from me, soaking into him, and he’d just taken it. He stood there and let it all overflow into him. So when he’d told me we’d claimed each other it was as if he gave me permission to dump all these feelings into him once again.
It was stupid because it wasn’t like Jackson had ever met Raleigh to understand the depths of the burden I carried, but he was accepting it all.
For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was being looked at as the widower who couldn’t process the loss of his husband.
I was the man who’d lost someone and it’d changed him.
Jackson saw me for who I was now, not who I’d been.
My grief had become such a huge part of me, I couldn’t find the person I’d been before.
It was like I was stumbling around, trying to retrace my steps in hopes of eventually coming across the corpse of my former self.
So I could wear his skin while I navigated it all.
Maybe then everyone would stop looking for that man in the wake of all the devastation.
Reality was, though, the Tucker Legare who’d been stupidly happy in his marriage and full of life had died the same day his husband was struck by a drunk driver.
But Jackson saw me as I was. The husk of my former self, but a man nonetheless, and he accepted it.
He’d embraced it. And I didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.
It felt too good to not bask in the sunshine he radiated, but it felt right, too.
And that felt like a slap across the face of Raleigh’s memory.
He was the love of my life. The man I’d dreamed of when I pictured my future growing up.
Jackson Arness didn’t fit in that equation.
But then again, neither did Raleigh dying.
My hand throbbed in time with my heartbeat and pulled me from my spiraling thoughts.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, but it couldn’t have been too long.
Rain still pattered against the window, and the light spilling through was dim, which didn’t help give me any indication of the time.
Maneuvering a bit, I managed to pull my phone from my pocket, and when the screen woke, it showed it was early afternoon.
I’d slept for only a few hours, but somehow it’d been enough to leave me feeling rested.
Though, admittedly, that wasn’t what caught my attention so thoroughly.
On my screen was a message from Jackson.
Jackson:
I went to go finish the feeding. I’ll come check in on you after lunch. Sleep well.
I couldn’t tell if the rapid spike in my heart rate was from the anticipation of seeing him or the dread of it. Was I ready to face the biggest mistake of my life? How the fuck would I ever be able to look at Jackson without seeing his plump lips stretched around my cock?
There wasn’t much time for me to contemplate it before the front door slamming shut reached my ears.
Quickly, I scrambled into action, trying to do anything that would keep me from staring at the door like some forlorn pup waiting for their master to return home.
I’d just managed to get my foot into one of my boots one handed when Jackson walked into the room.
“Oh, good, you’re up. Did’ja sleep okay?” he asked, shutting the door behind him, and all it took was one glance for the icy wall I’d hoped to use as a front to melt. His smile was radiant—warm and inviting. All I wanted was to savor every second of it.
I grunted, trying to keep my response neutral as I turned my gaze back to the task of getting my other shoe on my foot.
Jackson was upon me in three long strides, the heavy clomps of his boots on the wooden floor making my back stiffen.
What kind of face would I make when I looked up at him?
What kind of expression should I look at him with?
But fuck if my face was anything but slack-jawed and wide-eyed when he leaned forward and gingerly took my injured hand to examine it over.
His brows came together in a pinched expression of displeasure and the tug in my chest to do whatever I could to take it away was almost enough to override the mental image of those eyes wet with tears and full of hunger for my cock. Almost.
“Shit, Tucker. I think this looks worse than it did this morning.”
His words broke through the haze of my memories, and I pulled my hand away, ignoring the way everything inside me screamed for his touch.
“’S fine.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll ice it, and I’m sure the swelling will go down.”
Jackson rubbed at his jaw, and I wondered if he had any beard burn from our frenzied kisses. Did he like that? Did he like facial hair? Would he like the feel of it against his thighs or against his taint as I sucked on his balls?
“Tucker?”
“Huh?” I blinked.
“I said I agree with Marcy. I still think you should get it checked out properly. You told her you would.”
Technically I hadn’t. I’d acknowledged I’d heard her with the tip of my head, but I’d never verbally committed to being examined by someone other than her. Marcy hadn’t seen anything on the ultrasound that would make her think the bone was broken, which was my only real concern.
A break would mean a cast. It would mean weeks of being unable to help with water troughs, feeding schedules, or being out in the elements—rain or shine. It would mean another able-body down when we’d just finally gotten back to the number of hands we should have been at.
I couldn’t risk it.
“I’ll make an appointment tomorrow if the swelling isn’t better.” I sighed.