Chapter 19
Autumn
When I wake up, it’s only seven, and we don’t have to be at Shane and Ivy’s till nine.
For a moment, the two hours feel like total freedom, and I let myself sink deeper into the softness of the bed.
I’ve somehow managed to stay on my own side for the second half of the night, and Tucker is asleep on his side, a sheet pulled up to his waist. I don’t let myself admire the strength in his upper body under that incredibly soft T-shirt—sadly, I now know firsthand how soft the shirt is and how hard his body feels under it.
I also know how embarrassing it is to hump your fake boyfriend in the middle of the night.
I’m apparently doomed to humiliation, probably as punishment for letting my dad pull me into this situation and dragging Tucker in after me.
The humiliation gets pushed away as a more urgent thought comes into my head: I still haven’t posted to my channels. I need to at least get something up as proof of life.
I manage to get through a shower and my morning primping before Tucker stirs, but as I grab my phone and start toward the door, he calls, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I was going to go outside and record some video for my socials.”
“Not by yourself you’re not.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
For a moment he looks torn. He shakes his head, then hangs it. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” he says. “It’s Arthur Weggers and the fucking will.”
“I could leave my AirTag with you.”
“But someone might see you by yourself and tell him.”
I’ve never lived in a town as small as Rush Creek, but I’ve read enough small-town romance novels to know that he’s probably right.
Even if Weggers doesn’t literally have spies embedded in this wedding, news travels fast in a small town.
It’s highly likely people know Tucker is responsible for my well-being, and seeing me without him will raise questions.
“So basically I’m chained to you till after the wedding’s over.”
“Your idea, not mine,” he points out.
“Technically my dad’s.”
He raises his eyebrows as if to say it’s a pointless distinction.
“Okay,” I say with a sigh.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll go down with you.”
I can’t believe anyone can get ready in five minutes, but he does it.
We take the elevator down and go outside.
There are tons of walking paths on the Hott property, and we start along one.
I’m filming as we go. It’s beautiful—rugged rolling hills in the foreground, pale shades of green and yellow, with darker, tall evergreens spiking skyward as the land verges toward the mountains in the distance.
No wonder the Hott family has invested so much in hanging onto the land.
“It’s beautiful here,” I say.
His gaze lingers on my face, like he’s measuring the truth of my statement. Then he seems to decide something.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed it till I came back,” he says quietly, almost like he’s ashamed of his own words.
It’s another one of those Tucker moments, where he’s peeled back his shell and let me see, for an instant, the squishy bits underneath.
“Why’d you leave?”
He shakes his head. “Long story. Am I on camera?”
I turn off the recording and shake my head. My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s my brother.
When you get a chance, I really need to talk to you.
I swipe it to Do Not Disturb mode. I’ll get back to my brother as soon as we’re done with this conversation. Then I turn my full attention to Tucker.
“I never thought I’d leave.” His eyes get distant. “I loved it so hard as a kid. And we—my brothers and I—made a vow to each other to stay. A blood vow, with actual blood and everything.” He holds his hand out to me, showing me the scar below where his thumb joins his hand.
Reflexively, I reach out and trace the line. A small shudder moves through his body, and heat winds through mine. He pulls his hand away and won’t look at me. Damn, I overstepped, although when it comes to humiliation, nothing will top climbing on top of him in the middle of the night.
I’m planning to pretend I don’t remember any of it.
“We were all going to stay here and run the ranch together. And then Preston and Granddad locked horns, and—Preston left. And then one by one we all did. I was the second to last. I went to college on ROTC, served out my commitment, and went into private security. The whole time, in my head, I was thinking, If they come back, I’ll go back, too.
But it was like we were playing chicken.
No one could blink first. Until Granddad’s will. ”
“So you left because you got left,” I say.
His gaze shoots to mine, startled. “Never thought of it exactly that way.” But he doesn’t deny it.
And he looks like he’s pondering it, his eyes finding a point in the distance, vague.
I wonder if he’s really never let himself feel the teenaged hurt of his brothers, one by one, walking away from him and the promise they’d made.
“And now you’re all back. To stay.”
“They’re all back to stay. There’s nothing holding me here.”
“Except wanting to be here for Hanna. And once the land is hers for good—”
“I could go anywhere,” he says.
I wonder if it’s true, if he feels like he can walk away that easily. Again.
“This is a good spot,” I say, coming to a halt in a clearing beside a river. The light is marvelous, golden and early, and the water throws off sparkles. “Since you’re following me around anyway, maybe you could make yourself useful and hold the phone.”
Tucker takes it and points it in my direction. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Just steady. I’ll do the rest.” I poke my AirPods in and listen for the sound of them syncing with my phone.
“Hey, everyone! I’m at Hott Springs Eternal, which is a gorgeous wedding resort in Central Oregon, near Bend.
My sister’s getting married this coming weekend, and I’m here for the celebration leading up to the big event!
My sister’s marrying her fiancée, Jane. I couldn’t be happier for both of them—”
My eyes skip from the camera to Tucker’s face. It’s blank; he’s watching me without judgment, but somehow I can’t continue. It’s like there are…no more words.
“What is it?” he asks.
There are so many ways to answer him. So many partial or even full truths I could choose. I’m not sure what makes me utter the baldest lie of all.
“Frog in my throat,” I say. “We should go get some water.”
Tucker’s expression doesn’t change. His eyes don’t move from my face.
“Sure,” he says. “Let’s go get some water.”