Chapter 22
Tucker
I’m working in the back corner of my shop, finishing up a project I started earlier in the week, when a prickle of awareness crawls up my spine. I straighten from where I’ve been crouched for the past hour, spinning toward the door leading into my domain.
As I expected, Ruth is there, her eyes dragging around the space. They stop on me and I can’t help but smile. I haven’t seen her since she left to help Trevor. And while her absence made it easier for me to get certain things done, it’s also been strange not having her in my office.
I wanted to check on her. Make sure she was okay and that Trevor wasn’t being a dick. But it felt invasive and overbearing to track her down. Like I was stepping over an invisible line I didn’t put in place.
Seeing her now—and the smile on her face—eases the concern I’ve carried all day. It also brings a hefty amount of relief because it doesn’t look like I have to kick Trevor’s ass for upsetting her.
Moving away from the item I’m not quite ready for her to see, I quickly cross the distance between us, peeling off my work gloves as I go.
My eyes move over her as I close in, looking for any sign of upset or frustration.
But there’s not even a hint of tension in her expression or frame.
No agitation pinching her face and no annoyance tipping her lips into a frown.
If anything she looks… happy.
I come to a stop in front of her, positioning my body to block as much of the project from her sight as I can. “Hey.”
Ruth’s eyes move over me, skimming down my body in a slow pass that makes me stand up a little straighter. “Hey.”
I smirk when her cheeks flush the tiniest bit, because I’m pretty sure I know what she’s thinking about.
I’ve been thinking about it too. Spent most of the day trying to talk myself out of allowing it to happen again.
Before Ruth walked in, I’d almost decided I could keep my hands to myself.
It’s what I should do. Getting physical with Ruth will only complicate an already complicated situation.
She’s not a girl I can sleep with, send home in the morning, and never see again.
And I don’t want to.
I like having her around. I like Birdie’s little voice filling my house and Ruth rolling her eyes when I flirt with her. I like knowing they’ll be there when I wake up and knowing they’re safe while I sleep. I just like knowing she’s close. For safety purposes.
The chances my mother or anyone else in my family will see us right now are nil, but I still reach for her, sliding my hand into hers so I can use the hold to tug her closer. “How’s your day been?”
Ruth’s lips pull into a smile she tries unsuccessfully to flatten out. “Good.” Her eyes lift to my face. “I think your brother is about two bad days away from having a full-fledged meltdown.”
That has my brows lifting. “Trevor?”
Ruth angles a brow. “Which other brother would I be talking about?”
“Fair.” Ty and Toby are both the happiest they’ve ever been. Living their best lives with amazing women they probably don’t deserve. “Walker isn’t prone to meltdowns.”
Walker isn’t prone to any sort of strong reactions at all. He’s about as cool, calm, and collected as it gets. Almost to a fault. I might pay money to see something finally get him riled up. Just to see what happens.
“I think he’s overwhelmed.” She sighs, reaching up to brush a stray bit of sawdust off the shoulder of my shirt. “And scared to hire anyone to help because of what happened with the last guy.”
“Yeah. It was kinda crazy.” I don’t like thinking about dead Dan or what he attempted. Don’t like the way I struggle to breathe thinking about what could have happened.
Who I could have lost.
“Hey.” Ruth steps closer, eyes filled with concern as they move over my face. She rests one hand in the center of my chest, the warmth of her palm sinking through the cotton of my shirt. “It’s okay.”
I don’t know why, but the room starts to feel like it’s too small. Which is crazy because this place is huge. I know the walls aren’t closing in on me, but fuck it feels like they are.
“Come on.” Ruth grips my hand tight, tugging me along as I fight for air.
I barely register walking into my office, able to do little more than follow Ruth’s directions as she urges me to sit, my body sinking heavily into the sofa.
“Head between your knees.” She gently pushes me forward, one hand sliding up and down my back. “Deep breaths.”
“I can’t breathe.” I struggle between pants to get the words out.
“Yes, you can.” Ruth’s voice is steady and firm. “I promise.” Her touch is like an anchor as it continues smoothing a soothing path along my spine. “Everything is okay.” Her voice is soft in my ear, the scent of her filling my nose. “Everyone is okay.”
Everyone is okay. My family is safe.
For now.
After the explosion, I couldn’t sleep for weeks. Eventually, I managed to shove everything away, packing it up the same way I did after Kara died. But then Tobias and Walker were in that wreck. Hit by someone we still haven’t been able to identify, for reasons we still can’t explain.
And the nightmares started again. The dreams where everyone I love is taken from me.
I worked so hard to spare myself the kind of pain Titus suffered, completely ignoring all the other vulnerable spots I carry. I felt safe. In control. Confident I would never have to face a loss like Kara’s again.
I’m a fucking dumbass.
Because no matter what I do, I will face that loss. And as the baby of the family, I’ll likely face it over and over and over again.
“Tucker.” Ruth’s voice is so far away. It echoes through my brain like a chant. Soft and sweet.
“Tucker.” This time her voice isn’t soft. It isn’t sweet. It’s sharp and strong. Loud enough to surprise me into gasping a lungful of air into my chest as I’m shoved upright.
A soothing weight pushes down on my legs and warms my chest. It squeezes my shoulders and cradles my head. Gives me something to latch onto when everything else is trying to slip away.
I grip tight, afraid I’ll lose it too. Scared it will leave me on my own while all the things that haunt me are on the loose. It’s like I’m fourteen years old again, huddled on the bathroom floor, locked in a spiral of panic and fear I don’t know how to get out of.
Except this time, I’m not alone.
This time a sweet voice works its way through the haze, weaving through the clouds of despair. Calling to me like a siren.
Only this siren isn’t intent on my destruction. She’s offering salvation.
“It’s okay.” The reassurance is barely a whisper. “Just breathe.”
I squeeze tighter, holding on as I fight for the breath she told me to take, pulling in air that smells sweetly familiar. Floral and dusky. It’s so good, I drag it into my lungs again, hoping it can crowd out the demons I can’t seem to conquer.
“That’s it.” Something scrapes gently across my scalp, soothing me even more. “Good boy.”
The minutes pass. Me barely breathing as the world around me comes back into focus. The couch I’m sitting on. The office around me.
Ruth’s soft body straddling my lap as she cradles my head against her plush breasts, fingers in my hair, voice in my ear.
“Better?”
Working my eyes open, I lift them, not ready to face the woman who just got me through the worst panic attack I’ve suffered in years.
But Ruth isn’t asking any questions. She’s not looking at me with judgment for my inability to control my emotions. She just gives me a rare soft smile as her nails continue to gently scrape my scalp.
I loosen my grip on her, but don’t let go. “Better. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Her fingers slowly work their way from my hair, and I miss her touch the second it leaves. “Panic attacks can be hard to deal with.”
I can’t bring myself to completely take my hands off her, so I rest my palms on her hips, fingers barely sinking into the luxurious curve of her ample ass. “You don’t seem like the type to have panic attacks.”
Ruth is so reserved and calm. Even when that prick was on her doorstep, she didn’t react the way most people would have. Was she scared? Sure. But there was no uncontrollable panic dictating her words or actions. Just fear putting her on edge.
Ruth snorts. “Pretty sure there isn’t a type when it comes to panic attacks.
” She rocks back a little, pulling the temptation of her bountiful breasts farther from my face.
“I had them a lot after my mom died. I was trying to finish college and figure out how to navigate life on my own, and sometimes it got to me.”
I stare at her face, rubbing my lips together instead of putting them on hers the way I want to. Ruth and I are so different. Different in how we interact with others. The way we approach the world. How we carry ourselves and the words we choose to say. But there are similarities. Important ones.
The value we put on the people who matter to us. Our willingness to do anything for them. Our work ethics. A shared love of grilled cheese and tiramisu. The way we react to loss.
And to being alone.
I have my family—which does make it different—but in some ways I’m very much isolated. By design, but still. When it comes to navigating loss and all it entails, I’ve been on my own. I know how hard it is, and I don’t like thinking about Ruth facing the same sort of struggle.
That’s why, when I see the sadness on her pretty face, I do what she did for me. Reaching out, I curve a hand at the back of her head, gently pulling her closer. “Come here.”
She’s short enough it’s not difficult for me to adjust her positioning, moving both her legs to one side so she’s cradled against my chest, head tucked beneath my chin as I lean back on the couch.
Ruth doesn’t fight me. She comes willingly, curling close to relax in my arms. I almost feel like I’ve managed to coax a feral animal into allowing me to offer pets.
Convinced them I’m not a threat. That if they just give me the chance, I can make life better. Keep them safe.
Make them happy.
A big part of me wishes that could all be true. I know I could make Ruth’s life better. I’m confident I can keep her safer than anyone.
I could probably even make her happy.
Except she’s leaving. Taking Birdie and moving across the country. It’s what she’s planned. What she’s worked so hard for.
Do I like the thought of her being in a place I can’t help if she needs me? Fuck no. But it’s better for both of us if she goes. I’m not cut out for relationships. They require putting too much on the line.
And she deserves someone who can jump in with both feet. Love her without fear. Build a life without the shadow of uncertainty constantly blotting out the sun.
But for now, I can pretend I could be a man like that. I’ve got a week left to soak up a glimpse of what I will never have.
And I’m going to take it.
“Tell me something interesting about your mom.” I want to give Ruth the space to talk about the woman she so clearly adored, but I also want to learn more about her. About what her life has been like. What led her to me.
Ruth laughs softly. “What wasn’t interesting about my mom.
” She sighs, one hand lifting to toy with the front of my shirt.
“Everything about her was cool. She could play three different instruments. Spoke fluent French.” Her head rocks back, eyes lifting to my face.
“And made the best bananas foster bread in the history of the universe.”
“Bananas foster bread, huh?” I stretch my legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankle as I relax into a moment unlike anything I’ve ever had. “I’ve never heard of bananas foster bread, but I’m a big fan of banana bread.”
I’m a big fan of most food. I was kind of a scrawny kid up until my junior year of high school. Then I had a growth spurt. One that made it impossible to keep my stomach full, so I got in the habit of eating anything that crossed my path.
Pun intended.
Ruth pinches her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes drop to my mouth. “I could make it for you, if you want.”
“I’m never going to be a man who turns down a baked good, Ruthless.” My lips curve. “Or anything else you’re willing to let me have a taste of.”
I’m teasing her. Mostly. I just like the way she rolls her eyes when I blatantly flirt.
But today I get more than a roll of the eyes. Today I also get to watch her cheeks flush.
That’s a new development. One that is more encouragement than I need.
“Is there anything else you’re interested in offering up?” I run my hand along her thigh, moving in the direction of the part of her currently making my mouth water. “Because I skipped lunch.”
When Ruth’s eyes come to my face, her pupils are dilated and her lips parted. I’ve seen desire on a woman’s face more times than I can count, and that’s what I’m looking at now. Ruth wants me. She might not ever admit it, but that doesn’t make it less true.
And why shouldn’t I enjoy this short time with her? Would it really hurt anything if I give her what she wants?
Not the way I see it. She’s leaving, so there’s no way I’ll get attached. No way for me to be at risk.
Ruth wiggles around on my lap, the pink of her cheeks deepening enough I know she’s considering taking me up on my offer.
And I’m pretty sure she would have if Trevor didn’t choose this exact moment to come storming into my office. His eyes swing to where Ruth is perched on my lap, but he seems unfazed to find us cuddled up on my sofa.
He zeroes in on Ruth. “I just got a call from our insurance broker.” He winces a little. “I don’t think it went well.”
Ruth scoffs. “What did you do?”
“He was talking about how our rates were going to go up, and when he started giving me numbers, I got a little… irritated.” Trevor seems almost scared to give Ruth the last word.
Rightfully so, because she gives him the kind of look our mother dishes out when she’s disappointed in us. “Are you serious?”
“I didn’t mean to be an asshole.” Trevor sighs, eyes closing. “It just happened.”
Ruth lifts her brows. “Is this your way of asking me to call the insurance broker back and smooth things over?”
Trevor lifts his lids, jaw setting as he meets her gaze. “I’ll give you five thousand dollars.”
Ruth doesn’t hesitate. “Deal.”
Before I can blink, she’s off my lap. Any hope I had of finding my way between her thighs evaporates as she follows my brother out of my office, chastising him for being his normal self.
I’m going to have to chastise him for offering Ruth money to do his bidding. Because if anyone’s going to give her what she needs—money or otherwise—it’s going to be me.