I can feel my eyebrows furrow at the word choice. “He didn’t want to get married?”
“Mark is much like Tucker, but time and age have made him softer because he’s safe.” Brent knocks his elbow into my ribs with a teasing smile. “Like father, like son. Tucker is softer now too.”
“I love him.”
“I know you do.”
We finish up working on the car, and I eat dinner with Mark and Brent before heading home. Mark sends me home with a Tupperware container full of Tucker’s favorite pasta, and I hold it to my chest like it contains world peace. Tucker loves my cooking, but sometimes it’s nice to have something made for you with love by a parent. That’s something I’m starting to learn now.
The truck rumbles home underneath me. Stars dot the sky and the ocean waves slap the shore, an echo of Tucker when he’s not even here. Cupcake is needy for attention when I arrive home, so I happily give it to her, along with getting some of her old-lady energy out in the backyard. Sometimes I wonder if she misses Tucker more than I do with the way she pouts when we go back inside.
“He’ll be home tomorrow, old girl.”
Cupcake just licks her lips and curls up in the bed like I wasn’t her first father. I’ve never had a problem being single, or living on my own, but Tucker’s absence is notable throughout the entire house, not just the bedroom. I clean up the kitchen like I always do and prepare the coffee so that it can go off on the timer. But it’s never the same. Tucker does something different to the coffeethat I’ll never understand. It never tastes quite right without him. I smile to myself as I make my way back to the bedroom—as I get ready for bed too—and the smile gets a little bigger when I check my phone before bed to find a text from Tucker.
Tucker:Night, love. See you soon.
I holdthe phone to my chest, imagining Tucker beside me. Sometimes I still picture him with the pink buzz cut because that’s how my brain remembers him the most. But he’s got his curls again, and from the FaceTime the previous night, it’s a lovely shade of lavender now. I can’t wait to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in slowly—he’s my favorite scent of all time.
That’s how I fall asleep, wishing for the moment tomorrow that I’ll be able to breathe Tucker in and keep him for a little while.
“Charlie,”someone whispers into my hair, lips brushing over me.
“Hmmm.”
“Charlie, wake up. It’s almost sunrise. We have wishes to make.”
I groan tiredly and roll over, throwing my arm across my eyes.
“Nope. Come on, I made you coffee.”
I move my arm away and blink my eyes open, my brainslowly registering that Tucker is here already, in our bedroom, lips tipped up in a very teasing smile.
“Tuck?”
Tucker tugs at my shirt until I’m sitting up. “Let’s go. Sunrise,” he says pointedly, both eyebrows raised in expectation.
Man, I didn’t even get a kiss. I grumble as I slide out of bed, take a quick piss, then grab my favorite hoodie from the chair in the corner of the room. Tucker guides me toward the back door with his hands on my hips, whispering shit that goes in one ear and out the other because I’m still half asleep. He makes me slip my shoes on though, since my brain is only half working.
“When did you get in?” I ask as we make our way through the dunes.
“Oh, just an hour or so ago.”
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You let me keep sleeping?”
Tucker hums and swings our joined hands back and forth between us. “I had plans.”
“I could’ve been fucked already,” I murmur grumpily, but Tucker just rolls his eyes and busses a kiss across my cheek. The sun is still hanging below the horizon, the sky a deep dark blue, but I know any moment the orange will widen and take over. There’s a small blanket already situated at the shore, which catches my attention more than anything.
Tucker drags me toward the blanket and tugs me down until I settle between his legs. He curls his arms around me, settling his hand over my heart, and presses his face into the crook of my neck. I was kind of hoping our roles would be reversed, but I know I’ll get the same thing later, preferably when Tucker is inside me.
“I love you, Charlie,” Tucker murmurs softly, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”
“Which one of us does the laundry?”
My still half-asleep brain skids to a halt. “Huh?”
