Chapter 3 #2
My chest lurches just a little, a pang of longing and wistfulness. “I think I’ve lost my appetite,” I tease, smirking at the way they look at each other.
They both laugh, and the sound warms the room, makes it feel like home. Home. Something I want but can never have.
“Oh please,” Rowyn says and gives me a little shove. “One of these days, Tuck.”
I just laugh it off and change the subject. “How’s the writing going?”
She gives me a sheepish look as she grabs big bowls from the cupboard. I take them from her and set them on the counter.
“Well,” she begins. “It’s going really good, actually.” She looks equal parts excited and nervous when she continues. “I joined a local writers group and I’ve actually submitted my work to an agent. Eek.”
“That’s fantastic, Rowyn.”
She laughs softly, then shifts her weight. “Do you…want to see it?” The words tumble out quickly. She shakes her head almost immediately. “I mean, you don’t have to. It’s just an illustrated children’s book. Probably not your thing.”
Not my thing.
My stomach tightens. My God, how many nights did I sit cross-legged on the floor with Ben tucked against my chest, reading that damn caterpillar book for the hundredth time?
He’d recite half of it from memory, giggling when I did the silly voices.
There were nights I rushed home like my life depended on it just to make bedtime.
Just to feel his small hands cup my cheeks and plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on my face like I was the most important person in his universe.
My chest aches, the memory both sweet and unbearable.
“Tuck?” Rowyn’s hand lands gently on my arm.
I blink, drag myself back to the warm kitchen, the smell of garlic and parmesan in the air. “Of course I want to see it,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I’d love to.”
She studies me for half a second, as if checking for sincerity. Then she nods. “Okay. Be right back.”
She disappears down the hall. A drawer slides open, then shut. I take a slow sip of my beer and start setting the table. Forks on the left, knives on the right. Something to do with my hands.
“You still making ornaments?” I ask Jaxon, watching him sprinkle more parmesan into the pan. Chef Ramsey would be proud.
“Hard at it all summer,” he says. “Trying to get ahead. Once the baby comes…”
“I can help with anything but a baby,” I joke, forcing a smirk. “I draw the line at diapers.”
That’s not entirely true. I know how to warm a bottle. I know how to rock a fussy kid until their breathing evens out. I know the exact pressure it takes to rub tiny circles on a back until sleep wins. But no one here knows that. No one needs to know that.
Jaxon laughs. “We’re hiring a nanny for when I’m on the road. Maeve knows a good agency.”
I nod. Rowyn will have the WAGs in her corner too. The built-in village. She won’t do this alone.
“Oh, how did you make out?” he asks casually.
“Make out?”
My brain betrays me instantly—Maria’s kitchen, our bodies close, hands touching, heat in her eyes.
“Tuck.”
I blink and find Jaxon staring at me, eyebrow raised.
“Sorry,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my jaw. “What?”
“How did you make out getting the boys home?” he asks, pulling a spoon from the drawer and dipping it into the sauce. He tastes, nods to himself. “Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“No problem,” I say, shrugging like it was nothing, and really it wasn’t. I’d do that for any of my friends. “They’re good kids. But Maria…” I exhale softly. “…she’s got her hands full.”
“Yeah.” He glances away, stirring the pan a little too hard, like he’s mixing more than just cheese into a sauce.
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”
There’s a pause. What is it he doesn’t want to put voice to?
“I was just thinking about Rowyn,” he says finally, but I get the sense he had something else on his mind.
“With the baby coming. And her book. She’s going to have so much on the go.
I’m guessing her writing’s going to end up on the back burner for a while.
” He huffs out a laugh. “Not that I’d be much help anyway.
I’m not creative. Hell, I can’t even draw a stick person with a ruler. ”
I snort. This coming from the guy who handcrafts hockey stick ornaments that kids line up for every Christmas. But I don’t call him on it. Because he’s not wrong about the rest.
The thought pulls me back to Maria. To the look on her face when I offered to help. I can still hear her laugh. Light. Disbelieving.
At first, it gutted me.
But it shouldn’t have.
If I’m being honest, I see what she sees.
A guy who keeps his distance. Who helps her boys on the ice because he’s the captain and it’s expected.
Who shows up for drills and team dinners—but nowhere else.
A guy who stiffened when she asked him to come to one of their games like she’d suggested I donate a kidney.
I practically choked on my own tongue.
Yeah. I remember.
From her perspective, I’m the last person who’d volunteer for carpool duty or homework help. But now she’s juggling everything—full-time job, two teenage boys, and classes on top of it. Trying to build something for herself. Trying to claw her way toward a future that’s bigger than survival mode.
Rowyn might need to pause her book when the baby comes. That makes sense. A newborn changes everything. But Maria is working hard to build a dream between work, and kids.
You should help her out, Tuck, even if she did balk at the idea.
Can I do that, though?
Can I keep my hands to myself and a measure of distance, emotionally?
“Here it is,” Rowyn announces, her smile tight, nervous, like she doesn’t show this to just anyone, and I don’t take that lightly. I slide onto the chair beside her. She flips open a sketch pad, and the moment I see the illustrations, I can’t help but lean closer.
“Rowyn…these are fantastic.”
She glances up at me, hesitant. “You really think so?”
“Of course he does,” Jaxon’s voice cuts in from the stove. “Babe, you’re amazing.”
“You have to say that.” She laughs and waves a dismissive hand. “You’re married to me.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not, and I don’t have to say it. But I am…because it’s true.” I gesture to the sketch pad. “Can I?”
Her eyes light up, and she nudges it toward me. I flip through the pages slowly, letting each animal illustration sink in. There’s a precision, a warmth to her strokes—a world she’s created one page at a time.
“These are incredible, Rowyn. You have so much talent.”
She lowers her gaze, a quiet blush on her cheeks. “Thank you…there’s this guy in our writers’ group. He’s published two children’s books. He thinks I have a real shot.” She grabs her phone, fingers skimming the screen before holding it toward me. “Here, these are his books on .”
I glance at the covers, then down at the author’s picture and bio. Declan Hayes. I read a section, and recite it. “He owns a bookstore, and teaches classes at the university. Impressive.”
“Yes, he is. His indie bookstore is right here in Boston, and he teaches at Boston college.” She taps the side of her phone, eyes glinting with mischief. “I was thinking…”
“Babe, you know how I feel about this,” Jaxon warns softly.
“I know, I know,” she says quickly, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “But let’s see what Tuck thinks.”
My interest spikes as she points to the picture of Declan. She continues, a spark of devilish delight in her eyes. “He’s really nice, and he loves kids. Doesn’t have any of his own. Was never married. I thought I might introduce him to Maria. I have a feeling they’d really hit it off.”
The room suddenly shrinks around me. I shift in my chair, trying to act casual, even as a hot, sour twist of jealousy coils in my chest. I try to respond, but my thoughts spin faster than I can steady them.
“I mean…is Maria…does she…want…”
Why the hell can’t I form a complete sentence?
“I know, I know,” she repeats, laughing softly.
“I shouldn’t meddle too much. I heard all about Grant’s ridiculous antics when he tried to play matchmaker for Ash and Gina.
But this…this feels different. Maria’s ready to get back out there.
And those two boys of hers could really use a father figure, or at least a male influence in their life, don’t you think? ”
“They have us,” Jaxon pipes in. “All of us married guys who have kids of our own, and even the single ones. Isn’t that right, Tuck?”
“Uh, yeah.” I swallow hard. My eyes flick to the man’s profile on her phone, and with each passing second, my irritation grows, irrational as it may be.
Maria deserves someone good. A man who loves kids.
Someone steady. Someone who hasn’t been shattered by the past…
someone who isn’t afraid of losing again.
“Tuck, don’t you think?” Rowyn asks, and her voice tugs me back, insistently bright, but the lump in my throat refuses to move.
No, I don’t fucking think…