Chapter 29
Autumn
It’s harder than you might think to one, find a no-kill pest-control company in central Oregon and two, get them to come out to trap a ton of mice in the middle of the night.
By the time I find a company that meets both requirements, I’m sitting with my legs dangling over the side of the table, having internalized the reality that mice don’t jump.
Jane has convinced Summer that this is going to turn into one of the best memories from the wedding week, and the two of them have gone up to bed.
Haru, too, has disappeared. Hanna has prostrated herself apologizing to all my family members.
She’s been trying to catch as many wedding guests as possible, too, to apologize for the chaos and to ask them to please not post videos of the infestation.
Unfortunately, plenty of people left before she could catch them.
She’s sitting at the other end of the table, head down, scrolling Instagram and TikTok in despair.
“There’s no such thing as bad publicity,” Tucker tells her. He is unfazed by the critters that occasionally ford his shoes.
“I don’t think that applies when your wedding venue has mice,” Hanna says grimly.
“It’s a rule for a reason. All publicity is good publicity.”
“Every rule has an exception that proves it. Mice at your wedding venue is going to be the exception that proves this rule.”
“That’s such twisted logic,” Tucker says. But his voice and the expression on his face are both tender. I love how much he loves his sister. I love that he’ll do anything for her.
She scrolls and winces. “Shit. Chastity Cornwall wants to cancel their reservation.”
“She was driving you nuts anyway.”
“But we need the business. We can’t lose any more to Five Rivers.”
“We’re going to make this okay, Han,” he says. “We’re going to redo the prom and make a big deal about it. Maybe for their first anniversary. It matters more that we show that we fix things when they go wrong than that nothing ever goes wrong. People will know this wasn’t our fault.”
“I should have called the exterminator out for a routine visit,” she says.
“You don’t go from zero mice to a horde because you forgot to proactively mouse-proof,” he says. “Someone did this on purpose.”
He turns to me. “We’ll make up for this,” he says. “I know how much this meant to Summer.”
His eyes are soft on my face. He means, I know how much Summer’s happiness means to you.
Tucker’s caring is a force.
If I’d been engaged to him when I’d gone home to help Summer, he would have understood. He knows what family means.
He wouldn’t have left me.
He would have come with me.
The thought catches me off guard, a fantasy that has the ring of truth.
He’s still looking at me, that softness in his eyes. Affection. Maybe…maybe something more.
Maybe I want it to be something more.
“Thank you,” I whisper, but before I can say anything else, pest control arrives.
“You’re going to have to leave that table eventually,” Tucker tells me.
He surveys me, and the room. There are still a good number of panicked mice roaming as Hanna’s people deconstruct the decorations.
Before I can register what he’s doing, he scoops me off the table like I weigh absolutely nothing.
Being cradled against Tucker Hott’s tux-clad chest is a new life goal unlocked. One I didn’t know I had. I rest my head and breathe him in. He ferries me outside and sets me down.
“Hey,” he says. “Thanks for helping out in there.”
“You, too,” I say.
“We make a good team.”
He lowers his mouth to mine. We both make sounds. Hunger. Need. My hands clutch his back. His hands arrow into my hair. The next sound he makes is a groan. He steps back and stares at me.
I stare back.
“What are we doing?” he asks, quietly.
I don’t trust what I’m feeling, and I don’t want to put a foot wrong here. I say, cautiously, “Are you asking if this is still fake?”
Tucker nods again.
“Do you—want it to still be fake?”
He shakes his head.
Something sharp and longing pierces my heart. “Me neither,” I whisper.
His mouth comes down on mine again, fierce and needy.
I kiss him back like we’re running out of time—which maybe we are.
The wedding is two days away, and then I’ll go back to Baltimore.
We would have to agree to do this long distance.
Or one of us would have to move. That seems like a pretty big commitment for two people who only met a few days ago.
Somewhere on the path near us, gravel rustles.
“What’s that?” I ask, breaking the kiss.
“Probably just an animal, but…” He looks at me. “Fuck. Hang on—I need to get you somewhere safe.”
He scoops me up again. I could get used to this. He carries me back inside the barn and deposits me once again on a table. Then he’s gone.
In three minutes he’s back.
“Whatever, or whoever, it was, I’m not going to catch them now.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “If you didn’t have to take care of me—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he interrupts, and his voice is hard. Softer, he says, “Taking care of you is the whole point.” He looks down at me. “You ready for another ride?”
He doesn’t put me down when we get outside this time.
“Tucker,” I say quietly to him as we approach the lodge. “Do you think someone’s got it out for me?”
“I think it’s possible.”
“I thought my dad was overreacting.”
“Yeah, me, too. But the mice thing…that feels like too big a coincidence.”
“Agreed.” And then, “It’s a little freaky.”
“Hey.” His voice has that rough, unused timbre, the one I’ve come to know means big feeling. “You’re safe with me.”
I know he means he won’t let anyone hurt me.
And I don’t think I’m in danger. Mice and snarky posts are mischief, not murder.
But it still feels good to hear Tucker say that, and as I rest my head against his chest, I feel so much more than just physically safe with him.
I feel fundamentally, deeply, to-my-core right with him. Safe in my soul.
I can’t remember feeling this way since before my mom died. When my family felt whole and perfect and not like something that might fly apart into pieces at any moment.
I cling a little tighter to him, even though his grip on me suggests that there’s no chance he’ll ever let me go.
“You’re safe with me, too,” I say, and he doesn’t laugh or ask what I mean. He presses his lips to my hair and exhales something that sounds like relief.