Chapter 9
Tuck
Maria looks a little pale when she comes into the kitchen with Gina and Maeve. Not sick pale exactly. More like the color just drained from her face. I study her from across the counter, and when our eyes meet, she gives me a wobbly smile that does nothing to convince me she’s okay.
What the heck is going on?
Did she suddenly remember she has to hit the books? She has classes tomorrow night. Maybe she’s stressing about that. Still…something feels off.
As everyone immediately drops to the floor to fuss over Marbles, the tiny furball soaking up the attention, I take the opportunity to step closer to Maria. My fingers brush lightly against hers, barely a touch.
She jerks back so fast you’d think my skin burned her. And not in a good way.
My brows pull together. “What’s going on?” I ask quietly while everyone else is busy making kissy noises at the cat.
“Oh, nothing.” Her gaze flicks toward the others, and her teeth scrape over her bottom lip.
Yeah. I’m not buying that for a second.
“Hey.”
She turns back to me and pastes on a smile that doesn’t come anywhere close to reaching her eyes. “I’m just tired and need to hit the books.”
Uh-huh.
“Go,” I tell her gently. “I’ll entertain.”
Her shoulders lift in a small protest. “No, that’s not fair. Everyone is here because of Marbles, and Marbles is here because of my boys.”
She glances down at her watch, and that’s when the feeling hits me that this sudden unease has nothing to do with studying. Her eyes keep drifting toward the door. Like she’s waiting for something…or someone.
Did one of the women say something to upset her?
I’m not sure. But I make a silent promise to myself that I’m going to get to the bottom of matters later.
“Uncle Tuck, Marbles is very cute,” Stella announces from the floor, as she cradles the kitten. I brace myself. Any time Stella starts a sentence like that, it could go anywhere. “Do you think he can come skating on my backyard rink this winter?”
Okay. That…wasn’t painful. Or embarrassing. But I still don’t trust what might come out of her mouth next.
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” I say carefully. “I think Marbles is going to be an indoor cat.”
Stella considers this with great seriousness, her brows knitting together.
Josh’s head snaps toward her. “You have a backyard skating rink?” he asks, eyes wide with awe.
She nods proudly. “My dad makes it every winter.”
“That’s so cool,” Josh says immediately. “We don’t have a backyard.” Then he swivels toward me. “Tuck, do you have a backyard skating rink too?”
“No, bud. Sorry.” I rake a hand through my hair, and that’s when I notice Stella watching me with narrowed eyes.
Oh.
Jesus.
“You still got that wart?” she asks bluntly.
I nearly swallow my tongue.
Across the room, Maria bites down on her bottom lip, clearly trying not to laugh, and I can’t help but feel relieved to see some color coming back into her face.
“Stella,” Maeve says in a patient, loving tone as she places her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and gently turns her around. “We told you. He has calluses. They get them from playing hockey.”
Or handling wood.
Maria must have the exact same thought at the exact same moment I do, because her eyes flick back to mine. A slow, wicked little grin spreads across her face. And just like that, the tension between us loosens as we share a quiet, knowing glance across the kitchen.
Stella plants her hands on her hips and blows out an exaggerated breath, her tiny shoulders rising and falling in exasperation. “That’s what—”
“Who wants to play pinball?” I blurt out, cutting her off before whatever brutally honest explanation she’s about to give comes out of her mouth.
Josh jumps to his feet, Marbles now tucked carefully in his arms. “I do.”
“Me too,” little Grant pipes up, scrambling upright beside him.
Stella presses both hands dramatically to her chest like a tiny Disney princess who just heard her prince arrived. Honestly, I admire the kid. Tough as nails one-minute, full-blown princess the next. Not too many people can pull that off without looking ridiculous.
“I want to be Grant’s partner,” she declares with determination.
Of course she does.
Grant just shrugs, completely oblivious to the fact that if he’s now the object of her affection, his life is going to get very…interesting.
“Let’s go,” I say, clapping my hands once.
As the kids start toward the basement door, I glance back at Maria and raise a brow. In whispered words, I ask, “You want to head to the library?”
“No. I’ll have time to study after the boys go to bed.”
“Okay.”
We’re just about to head downstairs when the doorbell rings again.
I gesture with a nod. “You guys go ahead. I’ll get that.”
The kids stampede down the stairs in a burst of laughter and thundering footsteps while I make my way to the front door.
When I pull it open, I find Jaxon and Rowyn standing on the porch.
Rowyn has one hand braced on the small of her back and the other resting on her belly, slowly rubbing circles over the fabric of her sweater.
Something about the sight warms me straight through.
“Is this kitten famous or something?” I ask with a grin. “Is there something I should know?”
Rowyn laughs and reaches out to squeeze my arm. “No. You just don’t seem like a cat guy, so we had to see it to believe it.”
I chuckle and step aside, waving them in.
“Plus,” she adds as they walk into the house, “I’ve been cooped up and needed to get out for a bit.”
“Fair enough.” I shut the door behind them. “Everyone’s downstairs.”
Rowyn’s eyes light up. “Maria’s here, right?” I nod. “Good,” she says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to her. She’s just so busy all the time.”
A quiet ripple of unease moves through my chest. Because I know exactly what she wants to talk to Maria about. And I should be happy about it. But I’m not. Not even a little. God, I’m such a juvenile.
We all head down the stairs together, the noise of the games room enveloping as we descend. I grab a couple of beers for the guys and pour wine for the women—juice for Rowyn and the kids—setting the glasses on the small table beside the sofa.
The kids scatter everywhere—Lucas and Josh clacking pool balls around with zero strategy, Grant trying to reach the pinball buttons, Stella darting between them like she’s running the whole operation.
The machine lights flash and the sharp ding ding ding of the pinball mixes with bursts of laughter.
The guys and I take over the pool table, and for a while I just stand there, cue in hand, soaking it all in. The noise. The laughter. The warmth of the room.
For the briefest moment, I let myself think about Ben.
About how he would have loved this—kids running around, friends filling the house, the easy chaos of it all.
The thought settles in my chest for half a second.
Then, naturally, the conversation between Tanner and Ash drifts toward hockey, and I fall into it automatically.
Trade rumors. The last road trip. A brutal hit someone took last week. Normal stuff.
The women are stretched out on the sofa beside us, and that’s when I notice Rowyn leaning heavily into Maria, an excitement about her as she reaches for her phone.
No doubt to show her a picture of Mr. Right.
My stomach tightens. I want to stop it. I want to do…
something. Which is absolutely ridiculous.
Maria should date. She should find a nice guy.
A guy who isn’t gone half the year. A guy who doesn’t live on the road. A guy who won’t end up disappointing her boys.
A guy who won’t fail them.
So why do I suddenly hate everything about her dating someone else? Maybe if I keep telling myself it’s a good thing, I’ll eventually believe it.
Or not.
“Dude, wake up.” Ash waves his hand in front of my face. “Where’d you go there? It’s your turn.”
“Right.”
I step up to the table, but before I take the shot the conversation beside me catches my attention.
“Yeah, I was telling Tuck about him.”
The sound of my name pulls my focus. “Telling me about what?”
“About Declan Hayes,” Rowyn explains casually. “The writer friend I’d like to introduce Maria to.”
“Yeah,” I say evenly. “I remember.” I line up what should be an easy shot and miss it by a mile.
Tanner slowly lifts his head, eyeing me like I just forgot how the game works. He makes a soft tsking sound. “You’re off your game tonight.”
“Tired,” I mutter. “New kitten. Guests overnight.”
None of that makes any sense, and judging by Ash’s raised eyebrow, he knows it.
“Did you say Declan Hayes?” Lucas asks from the pinball machine. Rowyn nods. “I met him,” Lucas says excitedly. “He came to our school to give a talk. He was awesome.”
Lovely.
Lucas thinks he’s awesome.
That’s a good thing, Tuck.
Right.
“So anyway,” Rowyn continues, her fingers racing over her phone. “Here’s his picture.”
I try to act uninterested as I step back and chalk my cue, but my gaze keeps drifting toward Maria, watching for her reaction.
“Ohmigod, he’s so cute,” Maeve blurts out.
“Hey,” Tanner calls out in mock offense.
Maeve doesn’t miss a beat. “Not nearly as cute as you, my sweet husband.”
“That’s better.” He grins and sinks his next ball.
Rowyn angles the phone toward Maria. “What do you think? Cute, huh?”
“Very,” Maria says softly. Her eyes flick to mine for half a second. Then she looks away.
“He owns a bookstore,” Rowyn continues. “And he’s working on his second children’s book. He’s a great asset to our writers’ group. Honestly, I don’t know where he finds the time to do all that he does.”
“Single,” I add before I can stop myself.
Shut up, Tuck.
“Probably has lots of free time,” I add, not able to stop myself.
What am I doing?
“If he’s so cute,” I continue, digging the hole deeper, “Why doesn’t he have a partner? Talented, obviously. Successful, evidently. And great with kids. Something doesn’t add up.”
Ash laughs and bumps my shoulder. “You’re one to talk.”
“You think I’m cute, Ash?” I deadpan. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”
He rolls his eyes, but the women laugh.
“I’m single because I’m busy keeping you all in check,” I add.
Lame.
“Anyway,” Rowyn says loudly, shaking her head at me. “I told him all about you, Maria, and he’d love to meet you.”
Maria shifts on the sofa. “I don’t know,” she says hesitantly. I have to physically resist the urge to climb up to the roof and scream hallelujah. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gone on a date,” she adds quietly. “And I’m not sure about a blind date. I mean…my boys.”
“We could double date,” Maeve pipes in. “I would love that.”
Wow, looks like Maeve likes the idea of Maria and Douchebag…I mean Declan.
Maria glances at her boys. “I don’t know…” Her voice drops at the end, like she doesn’t want them to overhear.
Unfortunately, they do.
“Mom, you should do it,” Lucas says immediately. Every head in the room turns toward him. “He’s a really nice guy and he likes kids,” Lucas continues. “He even invited us all to his bookstore and said if anyone has questions about writing, we can email him. He gave us his email.”
“Isn’t that nice,” I say.
Every pair of eyes swings toward me.
Shit.
That came out way more sarcastic than I intended.
I try to soften it. “Did you have questions, Lucas?”
“Nah,” he says easily. “I don’t want to be a writer.” He grins. “I want to build houses. Mom talks about moving one day to a bigger place, and I want to build it.”
My heart tightens as he glances at his mom, and I catch the soft, loving way she returns it. It’s the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever seen—or heard. The way she looks at her boys, the care in every gesture, every small laugh. They’re so lucky to have her. And I can’t…won’t…fuck that up. Not ever.
“I want to be a hockey player,” Josh says, eyes shining with excitement.
“Me too,” Grant and Stella pipe in.
Zoe shakes her head decisively. “Not me. I want to be a nurse.” She beams up at her mom, who gave up nursing when she moved to Boston. My heart pinches tight. Something in the way these kids want to help their parents, emulate them, tugs at old, buried emotions.
Gina taps Zoe’s nose. “You would make an amazing nurse.”
I smile at the exchange before settling back into the game. I take a shot, and the clack of balls mingles with laughter and Rowyn’s animated voice as she plans a double date with Maria. But now I’m white knuckling my stick so hard, I fear I’m about to snap it.
After about half an hour, Tanner leans down to Stella and announces that it’s bedtime. Reluctantly, they all file out—the kids’ laughter lingering in the hallway. Soon enough, the boys are tucked in as well, Marbles on his bed in Josh’s room.
Maria heads to the library, books stacked around her.
I wanted to ask her what happened earlier, wanted to get the truth out of her, but I leave it.
She needs this time. She needs space. Not wanting to be in her way, I go up to my bedroom, and strip off.
I tug on a pair of sweats, climb into my bed, and flick on the TV, letting the mindless glow wash over me.
I think about the day, about the warmth and chaos of the house, and my eyelids grow heavy.
And then a noise downstairs cuts through the quiet.
I sit up with a jolt, my pulse spiking, before reminding myself I have houseguests. I freeze, listening. Footsteps. A scrape. The soft tinkle of something moving.
I push myself up from the bed and make my way quietly toward the source. The library is just as I left it—books sprawled across the desk—but then a sharp, unmistakable crash echoes from the kitchen. Did the kitten get loose, and break something?
I creep closer to the kitchen, careful not to scare anyone—or anything. And that’s when I see it, lit only by the glow of the light above the sink.
Jesus.
I said I wanted to get to the bottom of matters, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.
This is way better…