“Well, there’s a difference between getting hurt and dying.”
“Not to Tucker!”
“What?” Tucker calls out from a few trees down. His head peeks between the branches so all I see is a flash of pink, and River stares daggers at me when Tucker almost misses a rung on the ladder. God, everyone’s worried about me, but they should be worried about him.
“Nothing!” I shout back.
“You know,” Scott says in the way someone says something that’s going to alter the trajectory of your life forever. I pause in hanging the lights and peer over at him, giving him my full attention, which Scott flourishes under, if his smile is anything to go by. “Tucker is really special to all of us.”
“I don’t need a shovel talk. I love him.”
Scott grins broadly. “Really?”
“Mhmm.”
“Oh, well, in that case, stay that way. If you hurt him like that last asshole, a bunch of us will want to kill you.”
“Noted.”
“Also…” Scott trails off thoughtfully, as if weighing his words. “I think he loves you too, but he might take a while to say it. It’s hard for him to say what he feels, first because of his mother and then the situation with Anthony.”
“You know him really well.”
Scott shrugs and hangs one of the strands of lights I hand him. “We grew up together. I remember when he started at our school in first grade, how he’d jump at every loud noise, how he’d eat his food fast, like someone might take it.”
My heartachesat Scott’s words. God. Tucker says so much but so little at the same time. I want to make sure he never goes without for the rest of his life. I want to keep him safe, fed, and happy, until he either gets tired of me or we die together of old age. I just wanthim.
“He’s special,” I say quietly, in case someone else is listening.
Scott smiles, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I agree. But don’t be surprised if he runs when you finally tell him you love him. He’s a runner.”
“I’m aware,” I deadpan.
Scott hums and makes a thoughtful noise, clearly thinking over his next words carefully. “Just make sure he runs toward you, and you’ll be just fine.”
Well, shit.
Scott finishes hanging his strand, and we shimmy down our respective ladders. With a flip of the switch, the lights turn on. A few people clap from the lantern area, where everyone’s unpacking and putting together the lanterns for tomorrow’s festival. I look over to see Courtney, along with island locals—people who dropped everything for a lantern festival on a random small South Carolina island. To be loved is to be seen and heard. I slap Scott’s shoulder, then make my way over to River and Tucker. They’re both swearing up a storm, arguing with each other over God knows what.
“You’re missing an entire branch!” River screeches. He’swearing sunglasses still despite the sunset, but his eyes are undoubtedly angry behind the dark lenses. “Tucker!”
“Oh my God! I’m going to KILL you, River.”
“Hey,” I say quietly, knowing it’ll get Tucker’s attention.
Tucker pauses and looks down at me, his smile frustrated. “Hello. You’re done with your tree already?”
“Mhmm. Want help?”
“Yes, because all River does is say what I’m doing wrong but doesn’t tell me what to do to fix it.”
“River, why don’t you go help with the lanterns?”
River tosses his arms up in apparent frustration but goes without argument. Scott, who watched the entire interaction, happily comes over with one of our ladders tucked under his arm. I climb up the ladder with a smile and reach out for the strand of lights Tucker holds. We work in tandem for a bit until the tree is fully decorated. Once back on the ground, Tucker wraps his arms around my middle, hugging me tight against him, like being back on solid ground matters less than a hug from me does.
Someone whistles from near the lanterns, so we break apart, but I press a fleeting kiss to Tucker’s flushed cheek anyway. When we join everyone in pulling the lanterns from their plastic sleeves, and placing them in staged plastic bins, Courtney is chatting up a confused-looking Orson. Perhaps there is a match to be made here.
Tucker and I wiggle our eyebrows at each other before going over to take more lanterns out of the bins scattered around the picnic tables.
