Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
HAZEL
It was three in the morning by the time Dad and I stepped outside the police station into the cold, overlit parking lot. The air was cool and damp, the kind of damp that soaked through your hoodie if you stood still too long.
Dad had answered questions for what seemed like forever, and then possible charges were explained to us: grand theft, false report of a crime, and obstruction and unsafe practices.
All things he was guilty of.
The only thing he hadn’t done—on purpose, that is—was start the fire. That was a tragic accident. The oily rags had ignited from the stain, causing a perfect storm of negligence and bad luck.
Dad had offered to pay restitution and do community service. Even if it takes the rest of my damn life.
Now, standing in that parking lot, he seemed featherlight, like unburdening had given him back oxygen.
Not me. I felt like I was dragging around a body made of wet sand. I’d planned to go straight to the hospital to sit with Tucker, but scrolling through a myriad of texts from Kiera, I knew he’d been treated and released. “Let’s go, Dad. I want to see Tucker—” I turned toward my van and saw him.
Tucker leaned against his truck beneath the harsh glow of a bright light, arms crossed, jaw set. A silent sentinel.
A jolt zipped through me, electric and raw.
I stared at him like a starving person at a feast. There was still a smudge of soot on his jaw.
A few cuts and bruises. His posture was stiff, like he was trying not to favor one side.
Clearly, he’d come straight from the hospital, and my heart gave one solid, painful squeeze.
He had to be exhausted. And still, he’d waited for me.
He pushed off the truck and met me halfway, yanking me into his arms. He hadn’t just waited for me tonight. He always had—through every messy, silent, scared version of me. And now he was here. Again.
He held me tight for a beat, then pulled back and cupped my face, studying the cut on my temple.
“I’m okay,” I said, anxiously looking him over. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
He shook his head. Translation from guy speak to human: I’m fine.
He turned to my dad, brows up.
“I’m okay,” Dad said, voice scratchy and subdued. His eyes flickered with what felt like shame, and something else—gratitude maybe—flushed his face. I hadn’t once thought of the implications as it pertained to his job at Colburn Restorations. Would Ryder fire him?
“You were released,” Tucker said.
“Yeah.” My dad bobbed his head. “But I could still get jail time.”
“He’ll have to go before a judge,” I said. “But I’m betting with the offer of restitution and community service, he might just get probation.”
Dad nodded, and I could see the desperate need to fix this, to make things right, in his gaze.
“Ricky’s making a lot of noise,” Tucker said. “Even though he has his own legal issues for assault, he could still choose to sue you in civil court—though the attorney thought it was unlikely, since Ricky’s on probation and paying restitution to the contractors who sued him in the past.”
I was still furious at my dad, but beneath that anger there was love. I didn’t want him to go to jail.
Tucker’s gaze met mine. “I’ll follow you home.”
“Did you get in trouble for going back in?” I asked as we reached our vehicles.
Tucker snorted. “Cap said if I ever pull a stunt like that again, he’s throwing me into the river. But he was smiling when he said it, so pretty sure he’s not going to fire me.”
The drive was quiet. Dad didn’t say a word as we got out. I heard Tucker park, but he hung back, giving us a moment.
The sky was beginning to soften with the coming dawn, bleeding navy into light blue. Gravel crunched underfoot as we approached the porch.
Dad stopped, turning to me. His face looked older, drawn with regret. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Especially you.”
“I know. But I’m fine. And still here,” I said pointedly.
I knew he wanted to ask how long until I found another reason to go, but he just nodded, then hugged me tight. Fierce. Like he didn’t know how to say everything he wanted to say.
When he pulled back, his eyes flicked over my shoulder to where Tucker leaned against his truck, silent. Steady. “Thought you’d blown it with him,” he said quietly.
“I did.”
“Doesn’t look like it took.”
“I’m not talking about this to the man who said he’d kill him.”
My dad winced and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I overreacted. About a lot of things. Listen…” He sighed. “Tucker’s one of the best men I know.”
“Whoa. Are you giving me your approval?”
“Like you give a shit about my approval,” he said with an eye roll. “But yeah. I am. He just saved both our asses. I’d trust him with my life. And yours.”
That’s what got me. Of all the things tonight—that. The lump formed fast and thick in my throat. Maybe he’d still have to face a judge, but in that moment, it felt like we were already getting a second chance. “Thanks, Dad.”
He hugged me again, warm and solid, and ended it like always with an awkward pat on the back, which made me snort.
Some things never changed. And maybe that was okay.
I waited until Dad let himself in the house before I turned away—and bumped into Tucker, who’d apparently moved like the wind, because I hadn’t heard or seen him head toward me.
Without a word, he took me by the hand, steering me away from my van and toward his house.
Around us, the near dawn was quiet except for the distant call of an owl.
And the sheer roar of my thoughts.
Could I make this okay? I didn’t know, and that was terrifying.
He opened his front door, and warmth wrapped around me. The scent of the house was safety and second chances. We walked in, and the floor creaked its greeting.
And I realized the house had changed. I no longer thought of it as our past. We’d made new memories here, painted over the old ones.
“The first shower’s yours,” Tucker said. “Then get some sleep. We both need rest.”
I showered, then went on a hunt for clean clothes as I heard the water running.
Tucker was in the shower, and I absolutely did not picture his miles and miles of lean muscles all wet and soapy.
I found my cookie-covered pajama pants in the dryer, along with yet another of Tucker’s massive hoodies. I’d been going for cute and cozy but looked a whole lot more like a lost toddler in Costco.
By now the shower was off, so I headed to Tucker’s room.
Early morning light peeked through the window, painting the room in blues and purples.
He wasn’t in bed. Nope, he was the tall, quiet, shirtless shadow leaning against the window frame, arms folded, staring out into the predawn like he was trying to find peace in the stars.
“Tucker.”
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t speak.
Heart thudding with nerves, I stepped up behind him. Everything felt a little crooked, a little soft around the edges. Like maybe it wasn’t the house that had changed but me.
His window glowed faintly with the purple-pink hue of the morning sky, casting Tucker in silhouette. He stood stone-still, hair damp, wearing a black T-shirt, sleep pants—also black, no cookies—and bare feet.
“You saved me,” I whispered.
He didn’t turn.
“You said you love me and then almost died.”
“I’m too stubborn to die.”
A weak laugh escaped me. “You scared me tonight.”
“Ditto.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
He turned slowly to look at me with a stillness that radiated heat.
“And you were right,” I went on, swallowing my nerves.
“I didn’t believe in unconditional love.
Not really. But somewhere along the way, it changed.
Maybe when you sat beside me in the hospital after my accident.
Or when you defended me even when I didn’t deserve it.
And then you opened up, even after I’d hurt you.
” I shook my head, marveling. “You haven’t stopped believing in me. ”
He slid a warm palm to my nape, stroking my throat with his thumb. “Never will.” His gaze slowly traveled down my body, then stopped at the pajama bottoms, his lips quirking before he met my gaze again, his heated. “You look like an escaped Muppet with a sweet tooth. It’s sexy as fuck.”
“You have a serious problem.”
He smiled. “I know. And her name is Hazel.”
I snorted, then went serious. “I never thanked you.”
“You don’t have—”
“I do,” I said. “For going back in. For staying. For not giving up.” I had to look away for this. “You didn’t give up on me.”
“Another thing I’ll never do. I’d rather cut off a limb.” He brushed my hair back from my face, his thumb trailing over my cheekbone. “You’re a part of me, Hazel. The best part. I love you more than I thought I ever could love anyone or anything.”
His voice was deep and felt like it vibrated into my entire body. Simple, heartfelt words that had my heart cracking wide open and the bones in my knees melting away.
I looked at him, at this man who’d nearly died for me. My voice came out low, barely more than a breath. “Do you regret it? Us?” The question actually escaped before I could catch it. I hadn’t even known I was going to ask it.
His expression flickered—pain, maybe—but he closed the distance between us and pulled me into him. I could feel his heat and that steady, undeniable pull I was done fighting.
“I regret every second I wasn’t quick enough,” he said, fingertips ghosting over the bandage at my temple.
“The fire wasn’t your fault.”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I’m not talking about the fire. I wasn’t quick enough all those years ago to make sure you knew what you meant to me. I wasn’t quick enough to make sure you knew it this time either—”
“Tucker—”
He put a finger over my lips. “I wanted to go with you that night. I wanted it so bad, it hurt. And yes, I stayed back for Kiera, but I also didn’t think I was enough. I didn’t think I could be what you needed. I was scared you’d look back in a year and regret me.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him close. “I could never regret you.”