“You don’t have to believe it yet,” he continues. “But if you want something, and it’s safe, I’ll figure out how to make it happen. Seeing you disappointed over something like that?” His jaw tightens, and he looks away from me to the swing. His expression shifts to something I can’t make out. “Some things don’t get a second chance and not everything can be saved.” He exhales, looking back to me. “This wasn’t one of them.”
I move without restraint, wrapping my arms around his waist. He’s momentarily startled by the contact, but his body relaxes at the same time he wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me into him. My fingers curl tighter into his shirt and for a second, I’m painfully aware of how easily this could turn into something else.
Some things don’t get a second chance.
I feel the truth of it in the way his arms tighten and in the careful breath he takes like he’s holding more than just me.Whatever he’s lost, whatever he couldn’t save, it still lives in him and shapes the way he moves through life.
I can tell now, Tucker fixes things he can before it slips away.
“Thank you, Tucker,” I say into his chest. Pulling back, I look up at him, arms still around each other. “It—it means everything.”
My emotions are all over the place as a tear slips down my cheek. He catches it with the back of his finger. I feel the shift before I see it. For a heartbeat, I think he might close the distance and kiss me. The air is thick and charged with all the unspoken words we both want to say. Instead, he unwraps his arms and steps back.
“And look…I’m sorry,” he says quietly, voice rougher as he looks down at his hands. “About earlier…the sage green? I wasn’t trying to shoot you down.”
My throat tightens. “I know.”
“I’m not used to bright and colorful,” he admits. “Color, beautiful chaos, all that stuff. It wasn’t really something I grew up with.”
This is the first time Tucker has given me a piece of himself, a real one.
“I’m not used to…safe,” I say before I can swallow the truth back down. “And I’m not used to people having my back like this. I learned how to make things look fine long before they actually felt that way.”
His eyes flicker to me again. Something dark and understanding passes through them. Suddenly, we’re both standing here on a porch we built together, carrying wounds neither of us have confessed to.
It’s in this moment that something between us shifts.
He notices.
I notice.
Anyone with a pulse would notice.
“Scottie,” he whispers to the ground between his legs. “I’ve never wanted to kiss someone I shouldn’t so damn badly.”
My heartbeat launches into a sprint. “Tucker?—”
“I won’t do it.” He shakes his head. “I won’t cross the line, even though it’s been tempting me since driving you home from the bar that night. Hell, since you arrived here in Bluestone Lakes.”
The problem—the terrifying, exhilarating problem—is that I want him to cross the line now. I didn’t then because I wasn’t sure, but now, I’ve never been more sure. I know this isn’t the time and place, though. Not when emotions are so high over the incredible gesture from Tucker and cameras could come back outside at any minute.
“We should get back inside,” I settle on.
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he looks far into the distance, avoiding making any eye contact with me. It stings when I know I have no right to allow it to sting.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll have my crew bring in the new doors.” He finally faces me, a smirk forming—dangerous. “And then we can get to work painting them that sage green.”
I try my hardest not to smile, but fail miserably.
“I’m ready if you are, Tucker.”
He reaches out, circling his hand around my wrist to pull me closer to him. My eyes widen, but only for a second, because the smile on his face when he looks down at me is enough to melt me on the spot.
“Careful, Scottie. The way you say my name…like that? It’ll ruin me.”
I’m unraveling, piece by careful piece.
And the worst part?
