A pause.Then, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Just like that?”
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious.“You’ve already had coffee and breakfast.Might as well collect dinner too.”
His gaze warms.Barely.But enough.“Lead the way,” he instructs and I do just that.
At home, Tucker follows me inside while I call for Quinn, who comes tearing out of the living room in mismatched socks and excitement.
“You came back!”
That makes both of us pause.Tucker glances at me once, then crouches slightly so he’s less towering when Quinn launches herself at him.He catches her by the shoulders before she can fully tackle him.
“Looks like I did.”
Quinn beams.I shake my head and head for the kitchen before I can stare too long.Dinner is spaghetti because it’s fast and cheap and I know Quinn will eat it without complaint.While I boil noodles and stir sauce, I can hear them in the living room.
Quinn asking endless questions.Tucker answering in that low, steady voice that somehow sounds softer around children.
At one point I peek around the doorway and catch him sitting cross-legged on my floor while Quinn shows him a coloring book.A huge man in a black T-shirt with scarred knuckles and a little girl explaining the difference between unicorn purple and regular purple.
My chest tightens.With what, I’m not entirely sure.
When dinner’s ready, Quinn chatters through the whole meal and Tucker actually listens like every detail about kindergarten social politics matters.
He doesn’t say much himself.
Mostly he asks questions.About Quinn’s favorite color.About school.About whether she likes living in Freedom Falls.
He listens to her the same way he listens to me—carefully, without rushing, without acting like her words are silly just because she’s small.
It does something dangerous to my defenses.
After dinner, he helps carry plates to the sink even though I tell him not to.Then, like he already knows the evening is shifting into bedtime, he steps back.
“I should go.”
Quinn pouts immediately.“Already?”
“Yeah, kid.”
She folds her arms.“That’s dumb.”
I bite back a smile.Tucker crouches again and taps the end of her nose.“Probably.”He straightens and looks at me.The look lasts half a second longer than it should.
“Night, Lucy.”
“Night.”
Then he’s gone.No big moment.No drama.
Just the front door closing behind him while I turn back toward my normal routine.
Bath.Pajamas.Story time.Quinn is still talking about Tucker while I brush her hair.
“Do you think he likes spaghetti?”
