Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Gabby
“All packed and ready to go?” I ask, pushing Erin’s cracked lodge room door the rest of the way open as she zips her suitcase shut.
“Yes,” she announces, a joltingly bright smile on her face.
“Unless I’m imagining it, you seem happy to go back and face the aftermath that awaits you.
” A twinge of guilt hits me then, reminding me I will not be returning to Omaha with her, and she has no idea.
I know the others will have her back, but it still makes me feel shitty.
But before I can tell her about California, she surprises me with a casual declaration.
“Oh, I’m not going back.”
“Come again?”
“I’m staying. In Cinnamon Creek.”
“Is this some kind of quarter life crisis? Should I be worried?” I gasp when another thought hits me. “Did you sneak off to Vegas and handle Chad yourself? No one could find you yesterday.”
“No,” she answers on a giggle.
“Oh, good. Because I might be a little offended if you went on a murder spree without me.”
“As grateful as I am for your many offers to handle the Chad situation, I think his current punishment is way more fitting.”
“Erin, what did you do?”
She flashes me a diabolical grin as she stuffs her tote bag full, but she doesn’t spill the tea.
“Whatever secret you’re harboring, I’ve never been prouder.”
“Is everything okay?” she asks, her bright expression falling a few notches as she sits on the edge of the bed beside her fully packed bags.
I want to ask her where she’s moving to, since she’s obviously not extending her stay in this angler-themed lodge room, but she doesn’t give me the chance. “You seem…irritated.”
“I—” I fall into the sitting chair and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start with Tucker,” she suggests.
“You knew Tucker was here?”
“Winnie might have mentioned you two spent the night together, after your kayak capsized.”
“Winnie, huh?” I shake my head, amused despite the shitty outcome of it all. “I asked Tucker to go with me, and he said no.”
“Go with you where?”
“California.” I immediately bite down on my bottom lip, waiting for the weight of what I just said to sink in.
“You have a job?” she asks, some of her earlier chipperness returning.
“Yeah, but if this is a bad time, I can wait. I might have another one lined up next summer.”
“I’m fine, Gabby. The last thing you need to worry about is me.”
“No offense or anything, but why are you fine?”
“You’re deflecting.”
“You’d know that better than anyone,” I mumble.
“Yes, I would.” She offers me a kind smile. “Now, spill it.”
I tell her everything. The words pour out of me like water bursting out of a dam.
I bounce back and forth between prom night and present day, but Erin seems to follow without any trouble.
She waits patiently as I get it all out, to include the incident with the fox and my phone. She doesn’t even bat an eye.
“Maybe I’m not going to California after all,” I say, mostly to myself.
“Surely you have another way to access your email.”
“Sure,” I say on a shrug. “If I wasn’t a freak about deleting emails once I read them. I kept everything important in my notes app.”
“Gabby!”
“Until recently, that system has worked very well for me.”
“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Erin suggests. “A reason called fate, perhaps?”
“You think I should stay?”
“I think you should do what makes you happy. I’ve always thought that.”
Tucker makes me happy.
“If traveling the world makes you happy, then do that,” Erin says. “But have you ever considered that maybe you’ve been running just a little bit?”
Her words hit me square in the chest, because she’s hit on something I’ve refused to acknowledge. And now that she’s cracked open the box I’ve stuffed the truth into, I can’t ignore it any longer.
“I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere,” I admit. “Even in my own family, I was the outcast. The black sheep. The one who’s easy to forget.”
“I’m your family,” Erin says, grabbing for my hand and squeezing. “So are Stormi and Alanna.”
“The jury’s still out on Alanna,” I tease.
“Devin will feel like family soon enough, if you get to know her better,” she says of her book club bestie I only know because of the pre-wedding festivities.
“I can’t tell you whether to stay or go,” she adds.
“But what I can tell you is that if you stay, you’ll have family.
Real take-a-bullet-for-you family. You belong with us, no matter where in the world you roam. ”
“Wait are you all staying in Cinnamon Creek?”
“It’s a long story,” Erin says on a laugh. “But it’ll have to wait.”
“Why?”
“Because you have a visitor.”
I follow her nod toward the door, surprised to find a sexy, bearded mountain man filling the opening.
“Go,” Erin says, catching me in a hug before she shoves me toward Tucker. “We’ll catch up later.”
The door closes behind me, giving me a little shove right into Tucker’s very nicely defined chest. One corded in muscles and covered with tattoos I memorized with my tongue last night.
“Hey,” he says, his hand moving as though he wants to reach for me, but he pulls it back before he does.
“Hey,” I say.
“We should probably finish our conversation.”
“What a novel concept,” I say flatly, rolling my eyes at him. I tug him by the wrist to my room next door.
“Fox themed,” he says on a chuckle as he closes the door behind him. “How fitting.”
“Okay, that’s just cruel.” I scan the room, noticing all the fox pictures and decorations for the first time. How have I missed that? “Or maybe it is fate?”
“Gabby—”
“I’m scared, Tucker,” I admit, dropping onto the edge of the bed and waiting for him to do the same.
“You? Scared? I’ve never associated that word with you, Gabriella Owens,” he says, dropping a hand onto my thigh, the warmth of his touch heating me from the inside out.
“You’re the bravest, boldest, sexiest woman I’ve ever known.
I’ve been all over the world, and not a single person I’ve met could hold a candle to your badassery. ”
“Don’t forget the sexiness part.”
“You’re badassery is one of the many things that makes you the sexiest woman on this planet—or any other for that matter. So tell me, what do you have to be scared of?”
I take a deep breath, pushing past the fear of what my confession might uncover. But I owe it to both of us to be honest in the rawest way possible.
“I’ve never fit anywhere. I’ve never felt like I belonged. I think that’s why we were such good friends growing up. We were both like black sheep, you know?”
He nods, waiting for me to continue.
“That’s why I take these jobs that have end dates.
I only stay long enough to feel like I’m part of something, and I move on before anyone realizes I’m just an imposter.
” The words I speak are revelations to me.
I’ve spent so much time moving from place to place that I never once considered why I couldn’t handle standing still.
Coming to Cinnamon Creek has forced me to confront the truth of my running.
“You fit with me,” Tucker says, combing the hair back from my cheek. His fingertips leave a blazing trail in their wake. “In many, many ways.”
My gaze drops to his lips, and I’m tempted to push him onto his back so I can ride him, hard and wild.
It makes me realize that with Tucker, I’m freer than I’ve been anywhere else.
I thought traveling from place to place on a whim gave me that freedom, but it’s not the same. With Tucker, I’m free to be myself.
“What if I stay, and I hate it?”
“Then we’ll figure it out.”
“Just like that? I thought you were putting down roots.”
“I am,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But if you truly hate it here—which, for the record, I think will be impossible—we’ll figure something else out. You’re my home, too, Gabby.”
“I am?”
“Of course you are. I love you. I’ve mentioned that part right?”
“You have.”
“And we can still travel.”
“We can?”
“Of course we can. But I want to be upfront with you. I have no interest in jobs that take me away from Cinnamon Creek for weeks or months at a time. So if that’s going to be a deal breaker—”
“It’s not,” I say, a smile stretching my cheeks as I crawl onto his laps, straddling his thighs.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, Tucker.” I press my body into his as I capture his lips. “I have one more confession.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” I kiss him again, almost forgetting what I’m about to say when he slides a hand up the back of my shirt, unhooking my bra.
“You were saying?” he says.
“I love you. In case that part wasn’t clear.”
“It wasn’t.” He moves a hand beneath my loose bra, cupping a breast. “Maybe you should say it again.”
“I love you, Tucker Black.”
“That’s nice.”
“That’s nice?”
“It’s very nice,” he clarifies. “It’s just not as much as I’ve always loved you.”