Chapter 28
YOU’RE LOOKING AT ME LIKE YOU CAN FEEL IT.
Scottie
Opening my eyes, I feel disoriented.
I blink a few times, registering that I’m in Tucker’s bed.
I knew I was in his bed. But because I didn’t fall asleep until sometime early in the morning—and only slept for maybe an hour—everything feels off.
Even with the comfort of him next to me, body tangled with mine, I couldn’t shut my mind off.
The way his hands shook like his body had betrayed him.
The way his breathing turned sharp and panicked.
The way he’d looked at me with bloodshot, tear filled eyes.
And when his voice broke…it broke me.
Stay with me tonight.
I said yes without a second thought. Because the truth is, I don’t know how to look at Tucker and not want to take all of his pain into my hands like something I can sand down and smooth over.
I want to be there for him. I want to build something around him strong enough that it can’t touch him anymore.
I want to take whatever demons he’s buried so deep and lock them behind an unbreakable door.
I don’t even know what it is, or how I can help.
All I can do is be here.
I look to where he lies next to me on the bed. He has one hand flung over his head, and the other resting on his chest with fingers slightly curled as if his body is still holding on. Even asleep, he looks like he’s carrying something heavy.
I don’t move right away.
I just watch him—the rise and fall of his chest.
Sometime in the middle of the night, staring between him and the ceiling, I remember a conversation with Lily.
The way her voice turned serious when she told me about him opening up.
If he does, it means he cares. It’s clear from what I witnessed last night that he doesn’t let people see that part of him.
Not even when he’s so deep into it.
He let me see it.
He didn’t try to hide it or make a joke to cover anything up. He came to me and asked for comfort. He trusted I wouldn’t run. He trusted I would be there.
My hand moves on its own, reaching across the small space between us to brush his hair back from his forehead. I move gently, afraid to wake him too fast. Afraid that the second he opens his eyes, he’ll remember everything and shut down again.
His eyelids flutter open, and he exhales, stretching his arms over his head. His gaze finds mine immediately, unfocused for a moment before it sharpens with recognition. He stares at me like he’s making sure I’m real.
I smile softly. “Hi.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, slowly sitting up against the headboard. “Hi.”
Neither of us move.
We just sit there, staring at each other.
Then Tucker’s eyes trail my body, down to the shirt I’m wearing and back up. We left the loft in such a blur that I didn’t even grab anything. So once he was asleep, I grabbed one of his shirts from the dresser.
The corner of his lip twists in what feels like relief.
“You stayed.”
“I stayed,” I whisper back.
Something that resembles a memory flashes through his eyes, forcing his jaw to harden. He looks down at his lap, and I know the memory of last night is crashing back in.
“I’m sorry about—” he starts.
I cut him off when I lean forward, tipping his chin up with the back of my finger. “Don’t.”
“Scottie.”
“No,” I say again, firmer this time. I adjust myself so I’m sitting closer to him—thighs brushing together. I move to cup his face between my palms. His eyes close for a moment, inhaling and exhaling before meeting mine again. “You don’t apologize for being human. Not with me.”
“I wasn’t…” His voice catches but he clears his throat. “I wasn’t okay.”
“But you are now,” I whisper.
His head tips to the side, leaning into my touch. He reaches up, circling one hand around my wrist, almost holding me there and anchoring himself. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I want to be here.”
He blinks as if trying to keep control over whatever emotion wants to rise up and make him feel too much again. I drop my hand from his face and onto his thigh in a way to say I’m still here.
“You’re looking at me like you can feel it,” he says quietly.
“I can.”
He smiles, but it’s weak. “That’s unsettling.”
“It’s called empathy,” I tease.
Tucker watches me for a second longer, then his gaze drifts away toward the window. His thoughts running wild in his head. I can feel it. His shoulders rise and fall with a slow inhale. When he finally looks back at me, his eyes are clearer.
“My entire family died in a house fire. Except…me.”
I suck in a breath, holding it there. My body stiffens, and goose bumps pebble across my skin. Of all things that crossed my mind through the night, that wasn’t at all what I was expecting to hear.
“Tucker.”
He shakes his head. “I got out, Scottie. I don’t know how.
Well, I do,” he says, looking down at his lap and taking my hand between both of his.
“I woke up in the middle of the night, choking on thick smoke. I couldn’t breathe.
I could barely see in front of me. I screamed for my mom.
I screamed for my dad.” I squeeze his hand when I notice the change in his breathing, assuring him I’m not going anywhere.
“The last thing I heard was their screams as the house collapsed in front of me. My mom. My dad. My—” He chokes on his words.
“My baby brother. He was barely a toddler.”
I blink, tears streaking down my cheeks.
He lifts his gaze, reaching up to wipe them away.
“The fire. It was my fault. I had been complaining about an outlet that kept sparking in the downstairs hallway. But we didn’t get to it.
I was the last to go to bed that night and forgot to turn off the lamp plugged into that outlet.
If I…” He pauses, shaking his head. “If I hadn’t left it on, the fire wouldn’t have happened. My family would be here.”
“I…I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know.
I need you to know the demons I hide from the light.
I didn’t want you to see this. But this…
” He pauses, swallowing and gripping my chin between his fingers.
“Is the reason I don’t let people in. It’s why I walked out that morning.
I may not have been completely honest with you when you asked me before.
That was the truth. If I stayed, I would have started believing I’m allowed to have something I want just because I want it. ”
My stomach churns and I feel nauseous.
All that time I spent pissed that he left without warning—without a goodbye. It was all because Tucker believes he doesn’t deserve the things he wants. I can feel my heart breaking as I sit here, staring at him with tears blurring my vision.
The pain this man has been through.
The demons he’s carried through his life.
The guilt of surviving when everyone he loved is gone.
I reach forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulder. He holds me back, pulling me into his chest. “Thank you for telling me all of this. Thank you for letting me in.” I pull back, meeting his eyes. “But you do deserve good things, Tucker.”
“Good things don’t happen to people who get to walk away.”
“That’s not true.”
“It feels true…” He pauses, shaking his head before looking back out the window. “I can’t lose anyone else.”
I move, cutting his line of sight to the window. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Reaching up with both hands, he brushes the messy strands of hair away from my face. His eyes bore into mine, and he’s silent. My heart pounds against my ribcage, wondering what he’s thinking right now.
He nods once. “Okay.”
I’m not sure if that’s what he truly wanted to say, but I’ll take it. I won’t push him, not when he’s like this. All I can do is be here for him.
I stand from the bed, extending a hand. “Come on. Breakfast.”
He takes my hand, following me into the kitchen. I can see him ready to move around with ease, as if he’s ready to make his morning coffee and breakfast. But I sit him down at the stool on the island. He tilts his head in confusion as I jog to the front door.
Opening it, I find the package of cinnamon buns Lily dropped off early this morning. I smile and make my way back to where he sits.
“What is that?”
“Breakfast,” I say, placing the box in front of him. “You said cinnamon buns are your favorite, right?”
He looks down at the hole in the top of the box, before up at me. He reaches for the hem of my oversized T-shirt, pulling me into his open legs on the stool. His arms wrap around my hips, and my body flushes with his as he looks up at me, smiling.
He’s smiling, and I can’t help but mirror it.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes?” I say.
“I don’t deserve you.”
I tangle my hands in his hair at the back of his head and lean down. “You deserve the world, Tucker Daniels. And I’m going to make sure to remind you every chance I can.”
His gaze holds mine, steady and quiet. I press my lips to his. Holding it there so my words can register—so that he doesn’t think otherwise.
And I realize with a rush of clarity that I’m not just falling for him.
I already have.