And maybe that’s what this town has done for me.
It’s made me see that while I’m imperfect, I’m whole.
“I need to ask you something,” Lily says, and the worried look on her face has my body tensing. I nod, letting her continue. “Has Tucker said anything to you about his past and why he came to Bluestone Lakes?”
“No…why?”
“I was just wondering,” she says, averting her gaze from mine.
“Lily,” I warn.
“Really. I’m just curious. That’s all,” she says, placing a reassuring hand on my thigh. “He will tell you when the time is right. It’s his story to tell, not mine. And I’m not saying this to make you nervous. But just know that when he does, it means he cares a lot about you and wants you in his life. It means he has real feelings for you, too. I think the Barlow family are the only people in town who know what he’s been through.”
The oven timer dings, and just like that, the conversation is gone.
We settle into random conversations over dinner after that. I listen as they talk about a book they recently read or the shenanigans Nan has been up to.
But my mind is only stuck on Tucker and what he hasn’t told me yet.
It isn’t until I leave Lily’s house later that night that I realize whatever Tucker is hiding isn’t small.
This isn’t a story he’s avoiding.
It’s one he’s surviving.
CHAPTER 27
YOU’RE SAFE.
Tucker
After we wrapped up at the house for the day, I made my way to the bar for my evening shift the way I always do. But the weight of the day sat on my chest like a brick, and I couldn’t shake it. Griffin took one look at me when I walked in and told me to go home.
I tried to argue, but he fought back harder.
While he insisted over and over that he had it covered, I stood there staring at him, the same way I’m sitting here in my living room now, staring at a blank wall in silence.
This house is quiet in a way that presses into me instead of comforts me. There’s no music filtering through the house from the kitchen and my TV is off. The only noise is the low hum of the fridge in the other room and my own racing thoughts.
I look down at my hands clasped together in my lap.
I can’t stop replaying the day my world changed since watching Scottie dig up her own memories. I don’t have the luxury of digging up my memories. Every single one burned to the ground the same night my life did.
I squeeze my eyes shut, finally releasing my hands from oneanother to press my palms into my eyes. My throat tightens and I feel everything as if it only happened yesterday.
And that’s the thing about memories, they don’t care if you’re ready for them or not.
They show up without warning.
My eyes fly open, and smoke crawls across the ceiling faster than it should. It’s thick enough to make it hard to breathe, swallowing the light from the hallway.
“Mom?” I barely manage to get out before I start choking.
It’s a fire.
The house is on fire.
The air burns my lungs and every inhale scrapes my throat like glass. Then something crashes down the hall, like wood splitting or something giving way, and the sound punches through me.
