Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TUCKER
Aweek after the trip to the river, I stood before the mirror in my bathroom with an electric razor in hand. I’d finally drummed up the nerve for what I wanted while I’d been showering, but instead of acting right away, I’d taken my time to get out and get dressed. Just to see if the feeling passed.
It hadn’t.
My heart slammed against my chest wildly, and I tapped a finger against the stone countertop to dispel the strange itch under my skin.
Without giving myself any more room to think or to talk myself out of the plan, I flipped the switch on and let myself fall into the liminal space between the vibrations as the razor passed through hair.
The first chunk of beard fell into the sink, and then the next, and the next.
Each one was an extra weight I hadn’t known I’d been carrying until it was gone, and I could feel my lungs expanding more with every breath after.
It didn’t take long before another man stood in the mirror looking back at me, one I barely recognized.
His eyes were bright and full of so much wonder for the transformation that had just occurred.
The corner of his lips were hidden by the proper mustache he sported, but I could tell they were tilted upward in an uncharacteristically soft smile.
He radiated an energy I couldn’t quite place at first, but when I did, my hand trembled as I set the razor on the counter.
Life.
So much life radiated from the man before me that it made emotion rapidly scurry up my throat.
I raised a hand to my mouth, hoping to block the choked noise they’d make when they’d escape, only to watch the man in the mirror do the same.
His eyes were dewy and sparkled in the bathroom light, and it hit me none too gently.
This was me.
A me that I couldn’t recognize because I’d forgotten what life looked like in me. I’d spent so long in the shadowy abyss of Raleigh’s loss, a husk shuffling through the motions of pretending to be human, that the visual of living again was a foreign thing.
I tilted my head, examining my face with a whole new set of eyes before the telltale grip around my heart began to clench.
But these didn’t feel like Nighttime’s fingers.
This wasn’t the sadistic pinpricks of her nails digging in to make my chest cavity fill with blood.
It was a weight that was far more familiar.
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I let them fall. Because for the first time in a long time, they weren’t because of Nighttime and they weren’t for Raleigh.
They were for me.
For the version of me I’d forgotten existed.
For all the time I’d spent withered and cracked and damaged.
I wasn’t whole again by any means, and I wasn’t suddenly healed from the loss of Raleigh.
But for the first time, I could finally acknowledge how far his death had dragged me, and the part I’d played in where I landed.
I’d been thrown headfirst into the depths of despair, a hole in the ground that had been dark and dank. But there’d been a light at the top.
I could have pulled myself out. I could have dug my hands into the earth and clawed my way back out.
But I’d wanted to rot. The Earth had been where Raleigh was, and I’d wanted to be as close to him as possible.
And the longer I’d been down there, the further the light seemed to get.
Every day, the light shifted farther and farther until it felt pointless to try and climb.
Vines and moss had started to consume me, and the Earth moved to reclaim me before my time.
Then Jackson showed up. His face had appeared at the top of the hole, and he’d smiled down on me in my decrepit, mangled state.
It’d been blinding and filled up all the dark valleys where I was, and suddenly, I realized the hole wasn’t that deep at all.
There were roots now, and I could use them to pull myself out if I could break free of the vegetation that tethered me.
Maybe I’d just broken through. Maybe I was already scaling the wall. I wasn’t out yet, that was for sure, but something had happened.
I waited for Nighttime to slither her way into me.
To push me back into the depths of this pit or to tie me back down.
She couldn’t be far because she loved my misery.
But I waited and waited. I waited so long my tears dried up, and I was able to suck in what felt like the first breath of creation into my lungs, but still she didn’t show.
I knew better than to believe she wasn’t coming back, but her absence now felt monumental.
The clattering buzz of my phone vibrating against the countertop pulled my attention, and the movement of reaching out for it felt so loose and free that I was already grinning before I saw who the message was from.
Jackson:
Have something I want to show you. Where can we meet?
Me:
Got something to show you too. Come by the cabin.
He sent me back a thumbs-up emoji and little bubbles of excitement went off throughout my body. Jackson was coming here. Would he like the stache? Glancing back up into the mirror again, it definitely gave me Robert Redford vibes, but we’d see what he thought when he arrived.
He’d requested leave today but hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. We were still waiting on one mare to foal, but there wasn’t a need for all-hands-on-deck if she did drop tonight, so it’d been granted.
All the maiden mares did fantastic and the farm was now brimming with tiny horses of all shades kicking around after their mothers.
I used to love this time of the year, even if it came with its own set of challenges.
Halter training a foal was always challenging, but it was one of the more joyful parts of the experience.
All that new life, getting to experience the world around them for the first time, and all the glimpses at their personalities.
After Raleigh, working with the foals became just another part of the job I had to make my way through. I hadn’t had the energy or the patience to work with them as well as I should have, and oftentimes I left the real crucial parts of desensitization to one of the hands.
A smile threatened to tug at the corner of my mouth at the thought that this year could be different. Maybe I’d still be passing it off to someone else, or maybe I’d be right there watching a certain blond-haired hand with a single dimple in his grin muddle his way through it.
While I waited for Jackson, I cleaned up the bathroom and then padded out into the kitchen. I was just rummaging around in the fridge to see what I could offer in terms of refreshments when a knock came from the back door.
“It’s open,” I called before popping my head out from behind the fridge door.
They immediately locked with a familiar pair of green-brown eyes.
Jackson looked fucking sinful as he stepped into my home with his dark wash jeans, tight tee, and his Stetson perched on top his head.
Shutting the fridge with my hip, I leaned against it while little sparks of excitement went off under my skin as I took him in.
“God-fucking-damn, Tucker Legare,” he breathed, depositing his hat on the kitchen table. A look of abject hunger was in his eyes as he drank me in, and I couldn’t help puffing up a little at his perusal.
“I’m guessing that means you like the stache?” I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Not just the stache. It’s everything.” His voice was low and gravely, making something flip in my gut as he stalked toward me. “The bare feet and casual clothes, your slightly wet hair, looking all domestic… You’re so fucking hot.”
It took him three strides before he was upon me, his hands wrapping around my hips to tug me into him, and I groaned softly against the feel of his body against mine. Running my hands up his arms, I couldn’t hold back the grin that pushed free.
“That do it for you, cowboy?” I teased, leaning forward to nip at his lower lip softly. “You want your men waiting for you barefoot and ready with a beer in hand when you come in from a long day?”
“Mmm…” Jackson rumbled, grinding his hips against mine.
“I certainly wouldn’t say no, but I can think of a few other ways I’d prefer having you.
” His hot breath fanned over my neck and ear as he leaned in to pepper kisses along my jaw, sending chills down my spine and a soft moan slipping through my lips.
Since after Goldie’s birth, Jackson and I hadn’t done much more than make out.
Both of us wanted to be cautious about adding sex back into the mix of things, and considering how fragile I’d been then, I understood his hesitancy.
He’d still allude to doing more, as he did now, but nothing would happen.
Before, I’d been okay with taking things slow and easing into more, but recently, something burned inside me. It’d started as a nudge, gently encouraging me, but now it was like an inferno any time Jackson got near.
I wanted this man something fierce.
As his lips dragged along the skin of my jaw, he let out a satisfied hum before he pulled away.
“Was this what you wanted to show me?” He grinned, and I nodded.
“What about you?” I asked, not seeing anything outwardly different about him, but the way his smile grew even wider told me it was something special.
Pulling away slightly, he lifted his right arm a little to pull back the sleeve and expose the skin just on the inside of his bicep.
It was still covered in what looked like cling wrap, the area a little red around the work that’d been done, but the image was clear as day.
On his arm was a black thoroughbred with a white blaze standing proud and tall, ears perked forward, and just at his feet was a creamy blonde foal, curled up in the grass.
The artist had managed to capture the inherent cuteness of the foal without letting it overshadow the horse behind it.
My breath caught in my lungs as I took in the scene Jackson etched onto his skin.