Chapter 2
Maria
I just finish pulling the last of the muffins from the oven when I hear car doors slam outside, followed by the boys’ voices echoing up the street.
My hands are still dusted with flour, and a faint warmth from the oven heats my face.
Between work and my new college classes, I haven’t had much time with Mom—especially since she moved in with Grant—and I’ve been looking forward to tea and treats, a few stolen moments of calm.
Not that we’ll really get a lot of that. Once the boys come home…chaos.
I smooth my hair back and turn the burner on to boil my old-fashioned kettle just as footsteps start racing up the steps. Ever since escaping California and making a home here in Boston, we’ve lived above the café, thanks to Gina and Ash’s generosity.
They gave me a job and a place to live, and while this place is small, we’ve made it our home.
With Mom no longer living here, the boys finally have their own tiny rooms. Someday I’d like to move somewhere bigger, somewhere I can stretch out a little, but that day is still far on the horizon.
Especially now, with college classes eating up what little free time and money I have.
I glance at my books on the table. It feels surreal, honestly.
After all these years, I’m doing something just for me.
Beyond the boys, beyond Mom, beyond the café, no one, outside of my small family, even knows I’ve gone back to school.
I’m not sure why I’ve kept it a secret. I suppose part of me is embarrassed, going back in my thirties.
And part of me is scared I won’t be able to do it, that I won’t have what it takes to actually finish an undergraduate degree and get into law school.
The voices outside grow louder. I pause, trying to figure out if they’ve taken the long steps around the side of the building, or slipped in through the café.
The inside stairs make my morning commute down to the café easy—I don’t even have to step outside.
Right now it sounds like they’re using those inside stairs.
Probably so Josh can sneak one of tomorrow’s cinnamon rolls.
I’m onto him. My boys are always starving and I’m sure they’ll come barrelling in here looking for snacks even after stopping for burgers.
The door swings open, and I walk to the doorway, reaching for the ties on my apron. But my hands, and my heart, freeze when I see who’s here.
Tuck Delray.
Barely a step inside my place, filling the doorway with that broad, solid presence I’ve been struggling so hard to avoid.
I try to draw in air, but fail miserably as my lungs betray me.
His scent hits first. Warm, faintly woodsy, lingering in a way that makes my knees feel weak.
I remember that scent from that one night months ago, the way it had clung to my skin, the way I hadn’t wanted to wash it off in the morning.
And the memory that comes next…well, I shove it down, hard.
“Hi,” I manage, a tiny voice struggling against the thrum in my chest.
Lucas and Josh don’t even pause. “Hey, Mom,” they call as they blur past me. Lucas heads to his room, likely to call his girlfriend, Ari. Josh goes to the kitchen. I try to speak, to say something normal, something about homework, about muffins, anything, but the words crumble.
My gaze keeps flicking the length of Tuck’s tall hard body. It finally stops at his broad shoulders, and I take in the sexy way he casually leans against the doorway like he owns it. The way he owned me that night. The way his teasing grin made me melt…
Stop thinking about him, Maria.
I clear my throat, trying again. “Hi,” I repeat, firmer this time.
“Hey,” he says, and then we just stand there, heat arching between us, taking up space in the silence. My chest tightens despite myself, and—of course—my mind drifts. Back in time.
To that night.
After months of tension, it had all come to a peak one late night in the café.
By the next day, reality had hit us like ice water.
A mistake. One that can’t, won’t, ever happen again.
He knew it just as clearly as I did. We might have this undeniable pull, this crackling chemistry, but I’m a mother of two.
Random hook-ups are a luxury I can’t have.
Not when every choice I make ripples through my boys’ lives.
At least with Tuck, I quickly learned who he is, what he wants, and more importantly, what he doesn’t want. And that’s a ready-made family.
How do I know?
Sure, he’ll help when needed. Show up to family skate.
Give the boys a ride home. Maybe toss a puck or two their way.
But anything beyond that is out of the question.
I learned that the night after…well, you know…
when he strolled back into the kitchen the next day, confident, casual, probably expecting a repeat of the previous night.
And while I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t want it too, I had Josh’s high school hockey game to attend.
I invited him along, thinking he might enjoy it, considering he’s in the NHL and all.
His reaction was instantaneous—a sharp, fast “no”, and the pale flash across his face hit me like the cold slap I needed.
The word no was followed by, “I’m not looking for more… a family.”
It was the moment we both understood. What had barely begun was over. And it wasn’t just about desire—it was about boundaries, about the lives tangled in ours, about what I owed my children.
My life isn’t just mine anymore. Every decision is filtered through the lens of my sons’ well-being. Sure, I’d like to love again, maybe even marry. But it has to be with a man willing to take the boys under his wing, someone they can look up to and learn from.
Tuck isn’t that man.
He can only ever be temporary. A thrill. A lesson in what can’t work. Because I’ve been burned, duped by an unfaithful husband who wanted more on the side. Not chancing that again.
I glance past his shoulders, half-expecting to see Mom and Grant come up the stairs behind him. Wait, why is Tuck even here? “Where—”
“Your mom wasn’t feeling well,” he explains, voice low and measured. Heck, maybe he’s not as in control as he appears. “Grant took her home and asked if I could give the boys a lift.”
“Oh…is she okay?”
“She was pale, and she wanted me to tell you she was sorry she couldn’t make tea.” A beat passes, and he shifts from one foot to the other, just slightly…nervous. Then, “She told me to give you a hug from her.”
An unwanted wave of heat moves through me. “A…hug?”
He gives an awkward laugh. “I think she just meant to say hello.” His arms spread a little. “I mean, unless you want a hug.” His eyes go wide, like he’s suddenly questioning every word, every action, he’s uttered since stepping into my house.
“That’s grandma’s hug,” Josh calls out, reminding me he’s still in the kitchen, no doubt watching me salivate over Tuck.
“You have to take it.” He gives me a little nudge, and pushes me off balance.
I wobble and yelp, and fortunately—or unfortunately—Tuck is there in an instant, his big, strong arms catching me.
“There you go. Grandma will be happy,” Josh adds, like he’s oblivious to the tension crackling between us.
Or maybe he isn’t.
“You okay?” Dark eyes lock on mine.
“I…don’t know,” I answer honestly, feeling lightheaded.
Tuck pulls me in tighter. His head dips slightly, his lips brushing dangerously close to mine, and all at once my body remembers—the warmth, the scent, the way those lips had left me weak, trembling, aching. The memory of that night hits me like a spark across bare skin.
But no. This is Tuck. He’s not mine, and I’m not going to let myself forget that. We want different things. My boys—after everything, after their father’s selfish choices—need stability. And Tuck…he’s not that man.
Why do I have to keep reminding myself of that?
I push back gently from his embrace. “Thanks for the hug,” I say, trying to sound light but sure I’m failing. “I should give Mom a call and make sure she’s okay. Thanks for dropping the boys off.”
The kettle whistles, and Tuck looks like he’s about to leave as I hurry to the kitchen.
But my hands are shaky as I turn off the burner and reach for the handle.
Steam curls up and burns my palm. I yelp, jumping back, and of course, Tuck is there again, body so close that my heart is racing for reasons that have nothing to do with a burn.
“Are you okay?”
“I…yes,” I say, trying to steady my voice.
“No, you’re not. You have a steam burn.” Tenderness moves over his face. “Here, sit.”
“You okay?” Josh asks from the doorway, as he stuffs his face with a muffin.
Before I can answer, Tuck takes charge. “Josh,” he asks, switching into ‘Captain’ mode. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Yup.”
Josh disappears for a moment, returning with the small box in his hands. He sets it on the table and the smell of antiseptic makes me flinch, but I focus on not letting him see how flustered I am.
“I’m okay, really,” I protest weakly, fumbling for the words that don’t make me sound like a damsel in distress.
He kneels slightly, his hands expertly tending to my burn. I feel the heat of his fingers against my skin and try not to shiver. I’m just grateful the boys are home. For months I’ve made sure never to be in a room alone with the man I can’t seem to resist.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, eyes locking on mine with that impossible intensity. “Relax. I’ve got this.”
I swallow hard. I want to argue, to tell him I don’t need him hovering over me, but the truth is, part of me wants exactly that. The closeness, the care, the way he makes me feel wanted… alive.
But I have more than me to think about.
I take a shaky breath and pull back. “I really am fine. You don’t need to…do this.” I glance at my son. “It’s okay, Josh. Go get started on your homework.”
He shrugs and a moment later his bedroom door clicks shut. I turn back to Tuck, who’s examining my hand like it holds all the answers to the universe.