Chapter 22
Maria
I ease Tuck’s bedroom door open, careful not to let it creak, and slip out into the hallway on quiet feet.
The house is still wrapped in that early-morning hush, and I take a moment to bask in it.
The boys’ alarms haven’t gone off yet, so it’s the perfect time for me to slip out of Tuck’s room.
He offered to get up early, said he’d keep them busy, give me a break—but I shook my head.
They’re my responsibility. They always have been.
And yet…he’s been carrying so much of it lately.
Driving them where they need to go. Sitting at the table helping with homework. Showing up in ways I never asked him to—but that he gives anyway.
My chest tightens a little at the thought as I make my way down the stairs. My car should be ready any day now. Things will go back to normal. Too bad that’s not what I want anymore.
I’ve heard from Declan a few times—kind messages, easy conversation. He’s a good man. A safe one. The kind of man I should want. But I haven’t said yes to another date. Because no matter how I try to reason it out, being with Tuck while trying to build something with someone else feels wrong.
So I’ve left it where it is. For now.
At the bottom of the stairs, I slow, my gaze drifting over the walls. Still bare. Still waiting. I trail my fingers along them as I move toward the kitchen, my mind already filling in the blanks—photos, frames, bits of life. Pieces of him. Pieces of…us.
I’ve already started, quietly, carefully compiling things. I’d almost gotten caught a few days ago when he walked into the kitchen but I was able to hide my surprises in my laptop bag. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m overstepping.
He’s done so much for us. I want to give something back. Even if it’s something small. Even if it’s just…making this place feel like a home. If there’s one thing I know about Tuck, is that he loves his family, and misses home.
I slip a pod into the coffee maker, press the button, and then drift toward the big patio window. The world outside is muted in soft greys and browns. The wind moves through the trees, tugging the last stubborn leaves free, sending them skittering across the yard.
My breath catches when my eyes land on the stack of plywood, the boards, the tarps.
Everything they’d need for a backyard rink.
I wrap my arms around myself, holding in the sudden swell of something warm and aching all at once.
We’ve settled into this space so easily, so naturally. Like we belong here.
Like we belong…together.
Soon the house will be loud—footsteps pounding, voices calling, chaos in the best way.
And while I like these quiet moments, I love the loud ones too.
I’m just starting to sink into that feeling when I hear the faint sound of footsteps behind me.
I don’t even get the chance to turn before warmth presses in at my back.
“Tuck—”
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, his mouth just near my ear.
A shiver slips down my spine. “What are you doing up?” I ask softly.
One solid arm slides around me pulling me back against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Bed got cold,” he says, his voice low, teasing, but there’s something real tucked inside it. “Fast.”
His breath brushes over my ear and I can’t help the small tremor that runs through me. My hands come up, covering his where they rest on my stomach.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. Slow. Lingering.
“Come back to bed,” he murmurs.
For a second—just one—I let myself imagine it. Slipping back under the covers with him. Letting the morning wait.
I exhale softly. “You know I can’t. The boys will be up soon.” I hesitate. “And I think Josh might be starting to suspect something.”
“Right.”
It’s the way he says it that makes me turn. There’s something there—something quieter.
“What?” I search his face, catching the faint lines around his eyes as they narrow slightly, like he’s working through something.
“It’s just—”
A small, indignant meow cuts him off. We both glance down as a tiny blur appears at our feet.
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Marbles? How did you get out?” He crouches, scooping the kitten up with surprising ease. “We should’ve named you Houdini.”
Marbles immediately melts into him, and without thinking, Tuck snuggles the little guy in close, rubbing his thumb over soft fur. I just stand there, watching. This man—who didn’t want a cat. Who swore up and down he wouldn’t be the one cuddling it.
And yet here he is.
The same man who hesitated when I first asked him to come to one of the boys’ hockey games. Who looked like I’d asked him to go skydiving without a parachute. Now he shows up without being asked. Drives them. Helps them. Laughs with them.
Cares.
My heart stumbles in my chest. We’ve been playing house. That’s what this is supposed to be. Temporary. Convenient. Safe. But standing here, watching him with Marbles in his arms, in a house that’s starting to feel like something more…
A quiet, fragile thought takes shape.
What if it’s not just that?
What if he’s not just going through the motions?
What if…
My breath catches.
What if he’s changed his mind?
Do I dare believe it’s real?
Honestly, ever since the night of the accident, something in him has shifted.
He doesn’t hover at the edges anymore. Doesn’t keep that careful, invisible distance between himself and my boys like he used to.
It’s subtle—so subtle I almost missed it at first—but it’s there in the way he leans in instead of pulling back, in the way he listens when they talk, really listens, like what they say matters.
Like they matter.
I still don’t know what happened to him. What put that fear in his eyes in the first place. The past he keeps locked up tight, tucked somewhere I can’t reach. Maybe I never will. But maybe… he’s not running from us anymore. Maybe he’s learning how to stay.
The coffee machine beeps, breaking through my thoughts. I turn, pulling the mug free, the warmth seeping into my hands. Without thinking, I hold it out to him.
He shakes his head, pushing it gently back toward me. “No, you take that. I’ll make another. And I’ll get started on pancakes for the boys.”
“Tuck—”
“Go,” he says, softer now, but firm. “You’ve got a test tonight. Why don’t you take a few minutes for yourself before everything gets crazy?”
I hesitate, the instinct to argue right there on my tongue…but the truth is, I do want that time. Just a few quiet minutes to go over my notes, to breathe.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
His mouth curves. “Of course.”
Before I can say anything else, the quiet house explodes into motion. Feet pounding down the stairs. Voices overlapping.
“Mom, when are we getting the car back?” Lucas calls, skidding into the kitchen.
I can’t help but smile, a little incredulous at how natural this all feels now. Like we’ve been doing this forever. Mornings full of noise and chaos, breakfasts at the counter, backpacks and reminders and last-minute scrambles. Then school drop-offs, my shifts at the café, classes in the evenings.
And through it all…Tuck.
Steady. Present.
Here.
“Probably tomorrow,” I answer, leaning against the counter as I watch them move around the kitchen like it’s always been theirs.
“I’ll call and check,” Tuck offers easily, already reaching for his phone. His eyes flick to mine for just a second, a quiet I’ve got this, and something in my chest softens.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
He gives me a small nod, and I start to head out, coffee in hand, but Josh’s voice stops me just short of the doorway.
“I have a big game Friday night,” he says to Tuck, a hint of nerves threading through his usual confidence. “Panthers versus our rivals, the Sharks. Do you think you could come?”
I pause, just out of sight, my heart catching.
“I think I’m free Friday night,” Tuck replies.
“Are you and Ari still coming?” Josh calls to Lucas.
“Yeah, we’re coming.”
“Sweet.”
The excitement in his voice makes me grin. This game matters. Rival school. Big stakes. And Josh has been working so hard soaking up every bit of advice Tuck gives him like it’s gold.
And Tuck…he gives advice freely. Like he wants to be there.
I slip upstairs, holding onto that feeling.
After a quick shower, I dress in a hurry and head for the room I’ve quietly claimed as mine—though technically, it’s his.
Tuck’s library.
It’s still mostly untouched, his presence lingering in the shelves and the worn leather chair by the window, but he rarely comes in here. Not unless I’m already inside. Like he’s made space for me without saying the words.
I settle at the desk, opening my laptop, trying to focus as faint voices drift up from the kitchen below—laughter, the clatter of dishes, the low rumble of Tuck’s voice threading through it all.
Home.
The word sneaks in before I can stop it.
About twenty minutes later, there’s a soft knock and then he leans into the doorway, filling the frame.
“Ready?”
I close my laptop, slipping it into my bag. “I am.”
He crosses his arms, shoulder resting against the doorframe. “I called about the car. Looks like it’ll be ready by Thursday.”
Relief flickers through me. “That’s great news. I can finally drive myself to class again.”
His expression shifts, just slightly. “You know I don’t mind taking you. Picking you up.”
“I know,” I say gently, adjusting the strap of my bag. Honestly, I love when he takes me and especially when I leave class late, and find him waiting. I just don’t want to get too used to it. “And I appreciate it. I really do. But I can’t keep counting on you, Tuck.”
Something flickers in his eyes—gone almost as quickly as it appears—but I catch it. He straightens, pushing off the doorframe.
“Right,” he says, a little more clipped now. “Anyway, the boys are ready. We should get going.”
A small knot forms in my chest. I try again. “Tuck, I appreciate—”
“You ready for your test tonight?” he cuts in, already turning slightly toward the hall.
I let the moment go, even though it lingers between us. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say with a small, nervous laugh.
He glances back at me then, just for a second, his expression softening again.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “You’ve got this.”
As I smile, appreciating his faith in me, the boys fly down the hallway, their laughter echoing off the walls, and the closet door creaks open.
Marbles, ever the opportunist, appears in the doorway, meowing insistently, as if he refuses to be left behind.
I scoop him up, tucking him close as I set him on his bed, and grab my coat.
We pile into Tuck’s car. The boys chatter in the back, talking over each other as he maneuvers through the quiet streets.
Since my work is closest, he drops me off first. I hover for a moment, wanting to lean over and brush my lips against his, but with the boys in the back, it’s impossible.
I settle for a smile instead, gathering my things and opening my door.
“See you at five,” he says.
“Right,” I reply. Tonight, he’s picking me up after his practice and take me straight to class.
Seven o’clock, with a group meeting first where we’ll go over our notes.
Honestly, it still feels surreal—I’m back in school—but with Tuck helping me navigate everything, it’s not nearly as hard as I feared.
“Have a good practice this afternoon,” I call over my shoulder. “Boys, have a good day at school.” Levi will be driving them both home today, because the boys have a project they’re working on. It’s really so nice that we have so many people we can count on.
“Mom, can you bring home some cinnamon rolls?” Josh asks from the back, and the way he says home makes my chest tighten.
Home.
There’s that word again.
“He can’t sneak them now, not when we’re living at Tuck’s,” Lucas teases.
Living at Tuck’s.
We’re staying there temporarily—even though it doesn’t feel it—but Tuck needs to get moving if he wants to get the boys to school before first bell, so it’s not the right time to bring it up. And truthfully, I don’t want to bring it up.
Tuck winks at me, voice low and teasing. “I’d like something sweet tonight too.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You boys help Tuck with dinner tonight, okay?”
“Yes, Mom,” they answer in perfect unison. I slide out of the car, and Lucas jumps into the front seat beside Tuck, chattering away. I wave my boys off and watch until they disappear around the corner, laughter trailing behind them.
My boys.
Lucas.
Josh.
Tuck.
Even Marbles.
I’m surrounded by testosterone. That thought makes me laugh as I unlock the café and slip inside.
The morning rush hits almost immediately, and for the next three hours, it’s nonstop: orders shouted, coffee machines hissing, plates clattering.
By the time the crowd thins, leaving only an elderly couple savoring a slow bowl of chowder, I give Mia, one of our newer servers, a quick nod. “I’m taking a short break.”
I retreat to the kitchen, pulling out my laptop to go over my notes, and then it hits me—I forgot my textbook at home. I glance at the clock. Tuck is at practice. I don’t want to bother him anyway. Damn. I can’t wait to get my car back.
I consider my options when the bell above the diner door jingles, and Mom and Grant’s voices drift in. Perfect.
I hurry across the room, wrapping my arms around my mother first. “Grant, can I borrow your car? I forgot my textbook, and I need it for tonight’s class. You guys sit, have something to eat on me, and I’ll be quick.”
Without hesitation, Grant fishes the keys from his pocket and hands them over. “No rush at all,” he says, giving me that easy, reassuring smile I’ve always relied on.
Twenty minutes later, I pull up in front of Tuck’s place. My hands linger on the steering wheel, heart fluttering as I glance at the house. The upstairs bedroom window catches my eye. Did I just see movement?
I blink, shake my head. No. Old ghosts trying to poke at me again. My ex—Lucian—and his history of secret affairs flashes for a split second, but I push it away.
Tuck isn’t Lucian. He’s…Tuck.
And he isn’t supposed to be home yet. His car isn’t in the driveway. He’s at practice. I take a deep breath, forcing my heartbeat to settle. Silly. There’s no one here but us, the quiet house, and Marbles.
I slide the key in, turn the lock, and swing the door open. The familiar, warm scent of the house greets me, and soft paws skitter across the floor.
“Marbles?” I murmur, scooping him up. He nestles into my arms, purring, and that’s when I see it—movement from the corner of my eye. Something out of place.
I turn fully, and freeze.
A woman stands there. Beautiful, poised, and far too calm for the shock that pulses through me. I take a fast breath.
Dear God. Please don’t tell me history is repeating itself.
Then again…Tuck and I aren’t a couple. Not officially. Not yet. He has every right to be with someone else, and maybe just maybe, I’m the one out of place here…