Chapter 25
Tuck
As I help Noah with his fence, I check the time on my phone again.
Josh’s game doesn’t start for another two hours.
Plenty of time. More than enough to get this fence done and get there before puck drop.
It’s a big game, and he’s counting on me being there and I don’t plan to ever miss anything that matters.
Out past the trees, the sun is slipping lower, dragging streaks of orange and gold across the sky. It’s calm out here. Quiet. The kind of evening that makes you slow down. Beside us, Noah’s floodlight hums to life.
“Hold this here,” he says, setting a two-by-four on the table saw.
I grip the wood steady while the blade whines to life, chewing through it in a spray of sawdust. The sharp scent of fresh-cut pine fills the air. A bark explodes from inside the cottage, breaking the rhythm.
“Sorry,” Brighton calls. “She couldn’t stand being inside any longer.”
A second later, their Bernese Mountain dog Mabel barrels toward us. I barely have time to brace myself before she’s on me.
“Hey,” I laugh, bending just in time to take a full swipe of slobbery tongue across my face. “That’s a hell of a welcome.”
Her tail thumps against my leg as I rub behind her ears, her whole body vibrating with joy.
“You see what we’re doing here?” I murmur to her. “Fixing this fence so you don’t go wandering off again.”
“She’s in love with the neighbor’s cat,” Noah says, amused.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Thought dogs were supposed to hate cats. That’s what Elena basically said when I suggested Marbles live here at the cottage.”
“Not this girl. She loves cats and birds.”
“Then maybe I should’ve brought Marbles and introduced the two.” I say, scratching Mabel’s neck. “Though he’s an indoor cat and this big girl likely would have scared him off.”
“Mabel and Marbles,” Noah snorts, shaking his head as he fits the board into place. I grab the hammer, driving nails in one after another.
I test the board with a firm tug. “Good and sturdy.”
“Do you guys need anything? I’ve got iced tea,” Brighton calls.
“I’m good,” I answer, but my voice comes out quieter than I expect. Because I’m not. Not really. Something must show on my face, because when I glance up, Noah’s watching me differently now. Head tilted. Eyes sharper. Like he’s seeing past the surface.
“I’m a lucky guy,” he says.
I follow his gaze toward the house, toward the warm glow in the windows, the happiness inside it.
“You are,” I agree. “Great wife. Two amazing kids. A giant dog who thinks she’s a lapdog.” I force a smile. “And a captain who moonlights as a carpenter. What more could a guy ask for?”
“Sounds like something you’ve been thinking about.”
I shrug, reaching for another piece of lumber just to have something to do with my hands. “Just stating facts.”
“So…you and Maria.” His voice is casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at me. “Something happening there?”
Of course there is.
Everything is.
“She’s been staying at my place,” I say, even though everyone already knows that. Even though that doesn’t come close to answering what he’s really asking.
“Yeah,” he says. “Her and the boys. It seems to be going well. From what I hear the boys love it there, and you and Josh are building an outdoor hockey rink.”
I nod, focusing on lining up the cut. The saw roars again, filling the silence I don’t want to answer.
“I always thought that was a big house for just one guy,” he adds.
I let out a dry laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
“Couple years in there and still no pictures on the walls.”
“Been busy.” A ridiculous response and we both know it.
Noah leans back against the fence, folding his arms. “For what it’s worth,” he says, quieter now. “You guys are good together. All of you. Looks like a family, Tuck. Like you’re turning that house into a home and there’s nothing more a guy could ask for.”
Home.
I let out a breath, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah…I agree.”
His brows lift, happy surprise lighting his eyes. “You do?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“About damn time,” he mutters, pushing off the fence to clap a hand on my shoulder. “Was starting to think you’d never see what’s been right in front of you this whole time.”
“I just…” The words catch. He waits quietly and then I continue, “I never thought I was the right guy for her. For the boys.” I’d never admitted that before, at least not out loud, to someone else.
“She’s not going to do better than you,” Noah says simply.
I shake my head, wiping sweat from my forehead, though the air’s gone cooler. “I don’t know if she sees me that way.”
He studies me for a long second. “We all see the way she looks at you.”
“Sex is one thing,” I say, my words quieter now. “Love’s another.”
And love? Well, love means showing up. Every time. No excuses. That’s the guy I want to be, the guy I tried to be with Suzanna and Ben, but it wasn’t good enough.
“You love her, Tuck?”
This time I don’t want to deflect, don’t want to dance around it.
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.” I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. “I love the boys too. Hell, I even love the fucking cat.” A humorless laugh slips out, but it dies fast. “What if…what if she doesn’t want the same thing?”
Noah doesn’t interrupt. He just lets me continue.
“What if I’m just…temporary? Something easy. Something fun until she finds someone better. Someone steady. Someone who’s actually around all the time.”
My mind drags me back whether I want it to or not—Suzanna.
Ben. The moment everything I thought was solid, slipped right through my hands.
And then Maria…dressed up for that date with Declan.
Nice, stable Declan. The kind of guy who shows up.
The kind of guy who doesn’t miss things.
The kind of guy I couldn’t be for Suzanna or Ben.
Noah shifts, stepping closer, his voice quieter now.
“You think she doesn’t know exactly who you are?
” I don’t answer. Because I don’t know. I can’t forget she thought my sister was a puck bunny.
Would she think that if she really knew who I was, deep inside?
“Or is it that you’ve never actually told her how you feel? ” he adds.
“I…”
“Don’t you think it’s time that you two had a real conversation? Not the surface-level shit. The real stuff. Your past. Your fears.”
I stare down at my hands—calloused, scraped, still dusted with sawdust—and that’s when I realize everything he is saying is right.
When Noah and I first met we were instant friends, and long before he was with Brighton, when he was a single dad and struggling, we shared things.
Which means he knows about Suzanna. About Ben.
About how I learned the hard way what it feels like to not be enough.
Nicklas knows pieces.
But Maria?
She knows none of it.
And suddenly it clicks. How the hell is she supposed to believe I want forever when I’ve never said it? When I’ve never shown her all of me?
She told me about law school. About the life she’s building. What she wants. Where she’s going. All I’ve given her was the easy parts. The fun parts. Nothing that requires risk. Nothing that proves I’m staying.
“Yeah,” I say finally, quieter now. Honest. “I think I do.”
Noah nods like he expected that answer all along. He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Then you should go do something about it.”
Feet planted, I let out a breath and nod.
“Like right now,” he says and laughs. “Listen, thanks for the help. I appreciate it,” he adds waving for me to go. “But right now, I think you’ve got more important things to figure out than my fence.”
I huff out a small laugh, and reach for my phone again, checking the time. I’d planned to go to the game straight from here. But now I need a shower and a game plan.
“Thanks, Noah,” I say, already moving, already feeling the shift under my feet like something’s finally clicked into place.
As I walk toward my car, the sky has gone darker, the last of the light bleeding out behind the trees. I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I climb in, heart kicking up, something close to urgency building in my chest. I drive home, working hard not to speed, but my mind is racing.
By the time I pull into my driveway, the sky has gone fully dark. The house is quiet. Empty. Maria was going straight to the game from work. Kate’s meeting us there after seeing Violet.
Good.
I have time to think, to get my head straight, to finally figure out how to say everything I should’ve said weeks ago. I push open the front door and flick on the light. The house greets me with silence, but then tiny claws skitter against hardwood.
“Hey, buddy—”
I bend to scoop up Marbles, but my foot catches the edge of the entrance mat—probably kicked up from the boys rushing out earlier—and I lurch forward.
“Jesus—”
My hand slams into the wall, barely catching myself before I face plant. The sudden movement sends Marbles bolting. Straight out the open door.
“No—”
The word tears out of me too late. I spin, heart already racing as I fumble for the switch and flood the yard with light.
“Marbles,” My panicked voice cracks into the night. “Hey, come here, buddy…”
Headlights streak past at the end of the driveway. My stomach drops.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit—”
I yank my phone out, flick on the flashlight, and sweep it across the yard, the bushes, the shadows.
“Marbles, it’s okay,” I call, trying to steady my voice, even as my chest tightens. “Let’s go back inside. Come on—”
Another car passes. Too fast. Too close. I start down the driveway, scanning, searching. And then I see him sitting right at the edge of the street. The world narrows to that one small shape in the dark.
“Hey…” I drop to my knees immediately, lowering myself, making myself small. Safe. “Hey, buddy…it’s okay…”
He looks at me and for a second, I think I’ve got him.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Let’s go inside. I’ll get you a treat, yeah? Your favorite one—”
Headlights bloom in the distance. Too bright. Too fast again.
“Marbles,” I yell, unable to keep the fear from my voice.
He moves. Darts forward. Time fractures. A sharp, sickening whine cuts through the night and everything inside me just…drops.
“No, no, no, no.”
The car jerks to a stop. A door slams. Someone’s saying something—apologizing—but I can’t hear it over the roar in my ears as I run.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see him—”
“It’s not your fault,” I choke out, even as my voice breaks. “I scared him—he ran—this is on me—”
This is on me.
I drop to the ground. Marbles lies too still on the pavement, and my stomach turns so hard I think I might be sick.
“Hey…hey, little guy…” My voice is barely there now, shaking apart as I inch closer to him. “C’mon…you’re okay…”
His eyes blink open. Air rushes back into my lungs so fast it hurts.
“Yeah,” I breathe, hands trembling as I hover over him, afraid to touch, afraid not to. “Yeah, that’s it…”
I shine the light, searching—blood, broken bones, anything—but I can’t tell. I can’t tell anything except that he’s breathing. He starts to purr.
“You need to get him to a vet,” the driver says, his voice urgent. “Do you want me to take him?”
Right.
Yes.
Move.
“No, I’ll take him,” I say quickly. “I’ve got him.”
My hands are clumsy as I shrug out of my coat, laying it on the ground, trying to be gentle—so damn gentle—as I slide him onto it, wrapping him up carefully.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur. “I’ve got you, buddy…”
I carry him to the car like he’s the most important thing in the world. Because he is. Fifteen minutes later, I’m pushing through the vet’s doors, my heart still somewhere back on the road. Everything blurs—voices, questions, paperwork. I answer what I can. Miss half of it.
Then they take him. And just like that, I’m alone.
I sink into the waiting room chair, my hands still shaking, my pulse refusing to slow. My phone feels heavy in my grip when I pick it up.
Maria.
The game.
Josh.
The realization hits like a punch to the chest. I glance at the time. It’s starting soon.
“Fuck…” The word comes out hollow. I drag a hand down my face, staring at the screen. I should call her. I should explain. But what the hell do I even say?
Hey, I might not make it because I let the cat get hit by a car?
And if I tell her, if I throw her off, it could throw Josh off and this game matters. Christ, I said I wouldn’t miss anything that matters again. My chest tightens so hard it burns. Because now, now I have to choose.
Stay here.
Or go.
And either way…
I’m letting someone down.
“Jesus…” I whisper, dropping my head into my hands. There’s no version of this where I win. No version where I don’t fail somebody. Slowly, I pick up my phone again, my thumb hovering over her name. I can’t leave. I won’t leave him. But I can’t tell her why. Not now. Not like this.
So I do the only thing I can.
The worst thing.
I type the words before I can second-guess them.
I can’t make it.
I hit send.
And just like that…I’ve failed everyone.
.