Grace
The smile that’s only been seen in my dreams—that cast itself as the main star—for so many years flashes at me before fading, the owner clearly expecting someone else. It was only for a moment, but it was powerful enough to paralyze me from the inside out.
I’m at a complete loss. So many feelings are rushing forward, yet I feel entirely numb.
This exact moment has been the focal point of many sleepless nights spent contemplating when and where I’d see him again. And yet I never really thought about how it would make me feel.
My brain is completely overwhelmed, unable to decide where to focus my attention.
Do I stare at the small scar above his upper lip?
Or at his whiskey-brown eyes, or maybe the body that’s familiar and yet not, broader and more filled out than I recall?
Perhaps at the unfamiliar ink covering one arm?
Is it possible that he’s taller now than he was back then? Every visible part of him seems larger.
Meeting his eye feels too much too soon, so I settle on his lips. The scar isn’t nearly as prominent as it once was, almost unnoticeable to the unknowing. I remember the day he told me the story of how he got that scar like it was yesterday.
We were lying in the back of his dad’s truck out in one of the ranch’s paddocks, having just devoured the picnic that Tucker put together for my seventeenth birthday.
My head was resting on his chest and his arm lay across my waist, holding me to him.
As his thumb was stroking my side, I’d reached up and ran my fingertips across the scar.
“I’ve never asked you how you got this.”
“Bar fight.”
I’d let out a laugh and he’d joined in, his deep timbre echoing my light one. “Yeah, sure. And the truth?”
“Fell off a bull calf when I was seven, right onto a broken part of fence. Almost put Grandma in an early grave that day, but you bet your ass that I was back on that bastard a week later. Had to show ‘em who’s boss.”
I distinctly remember staring at him, completely dumbfounded by how carefree and crazy he must’ve been as a child—an absolute handful. I’d once again found myself laughing. “How on Earth did I end up with such a daredevil of a boyfriend?”
“Don’t worry, Gracie, I’m far more placid these days. I like to think you’ve tamed me,” he’d replied with a wink.
We’d been together almost three years at that point.
Considering he’d continued rodeoing for more than two of those years, I’d hardly say he’d been ‘tamed’.
But the acknowledgement that I could’ve had such an effect on him had a full body blush developing moments later.
I wanted to look away, embarrassed, but the way Tucker stared into my eyes, awestricken, kept me in place.
And then he’d leaned down, his hand tipping my chin up toward him, and kissed me—long and slow, like we had all the time in the world.
Lying there, it almost felt like we did.
It doesn’t matter that when I look at him, I see not only the boy I fell in love with, but also the man I always knew he’d become. It doesn’t matter that I see a scar I used to know by touch, or stubble that I was there to see appear for the first time.
“Gracie.”
The name exclusively used by him, falling from his lips after all this time, feels like a punch to the gut. It rips me out of the flashback and right back into reality.
“Tucker.” His name comes out hoarse, unfamiliar on my tongue after all these years—never unfamiliar in my mind, dreams, or nightmares, though.
I take a deep breath and kickstart my breathing, having held my breath since he appeared.
When the smell of sandalwood and sheer masculinity washes over me, there’s a sharp pang deep within my gut.
The Tucker I knew always smelt earthy and clean, like fresh linen in the rain.
But the man before me isn’t the Tucker I knew, not anymore.
He may look eerily reminiscent of him, but that’s where it ends—I don’t know this man any more than he knows the new version of me that stands before him.
“Wow,” is all he says, his voice low enough that I wonder if it was meant to be heard.
As ready as I’ll ever be, I allow my gaze to meet his.
The wonder in his eyes has a warmth seeping across my skin.
Despite the time apart, he’s still able to make me blush.
I try to steady my breathing so he can’t see the effect he’s having on me, but his gaze dips to my lips.
Busted. I can’t believe what an absolute traitor my body is being right now—we haven’t seen this man for the longest time, so why the hell are we allowing him to hold so much power over us after mere moments of seeing him again?
As though in response, I mirror Tucker and lower my gaze to his lips.
Absolute Traitor Joe.
An indiscernible amount of time passes, during which neither of us can look away. Tucker suddenly clears his throat, and I startle out of my daze. “What are you doing here, Gracie?”
There he goes with that damn nickname again. The way it squeezes my heart in a vice grip seems entirely too dramatic, as does the pressure it puts on my tear ducts.
“Grace,” I respond, unable to hear the nickname again in that deep timbre of his.
“It’s just Grace these days.” My tone comes out harsher than anticipated, apparent by the wince that flashes across Tucker’s face.
He opens his mouth to respond, but I don’t let him—I need this conversation to end.
“I’m just visiting—helping Dad out while he’s on the mend.
He broke his leg. But you probably already knew that—small town and all.
” I’m rambling, but I don’t know how to stop.
“I’m not staying.” The last three words are an afterthought, added with an unexpected haste.
I don’t know why I bothered; it’s not like Tucker Beaumont cares about my whereabouts.
I’m sure it’s been a hell of a long time since he bothered to think of me at all—I just wish I could say the same.
If the way he shifts his weight between his feet is any indication, I’ve done what I do best and made this weirdly uncomfortable. Thank God fourteen-year-old Grace can’t see me now. She’d be devastated to know how things turned out between her and her first—and only—love.
“Yeah I heard, but it slipped my mind when I came in.” Tucker scrubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Poor Randy won’t love bein’ stuck in that cast. It’s good that he’s got you to help him and Lorelai.”
Fuck me dead, has a staler conversation ever existed?
“Yeah,” is all I can think to respond with, now staring at the floor because it hurts too much to look at his beautiful face.
Fuck my life. Is this really what we are now?
Nothing more than awkward small talk from several feet apart?
We used to tell each other everything, from life-changing moments to the most mundane daily happenings, and now we can’t even hold a normal conversation for five minutes.
A ringtone sounds from Tucker’s jean pocket, saving us. Retrieving his phone, he takes one look at the incoming call and sighs. “I’ve gotta take this.”
“Oh yeah no, go for it.”
He turns to leave, but hesitates a second, glancing back at me. “It’s great to see you, Grace.”
The absence of the nickname shouldn’t hurt the way it does, yet here we are.
I don’t even have a leg to stand on, considering I all but demanded he call me Grace.
But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the heart and brain work in mysterious ways.
“You too, Tucker.” The smile he gives me is void of joy, more of a grimace really, but I return one anyway.
I blink and he’s gone, officially ending the world’s most awkward conversation.
But fuck if it wasn’t good to see him again after all these years.