My gaze slides to Tuck’s door. He said I could use his shower. Still…stepping into his room without him here feels different. More personal. Like I’m crossing into a space that’s entirely his, not the shared parts of the house I’ve already grown comfortable in.
I hover for a second longer, then I push the door open. The room is exactly what I should’ve expected. Clean. Neat. Almost too neat. I glance around, taking it in slowly, a smile tugging at my mouth.
From a bachelor, I would’ve expected a mess. My gaze drifts to the bed as I pass it, the gray striped comforter pulled tight, untouched. I imagine him naked in that bed and it brings on the memory from the kitchen—his hands, his mouth, the heat of him—and I swallow, forcing myself to keep moving.
The closet door is cracked open. I pause. Marbles could get in there. I step closer, reaching to shut it but my hand lingers on the edge of the door. I glance over my shoulder before tugging the closet open, like I might actually get caught. It’s ridiculous—he’s miles away.
Inside, everything is orderly, like the rest of his space. Shirts lined up on one side, pants on the other. Neat. Intentional. Very Tuck.
My fingers drift over the sleeve of one of his shirts before I can stop myself. I bring it to my nose, breathing in slowly, and there it is—that clean, subtle scent I’ve started to associate with him.
My chest tightens.
I miss him.
The realization scares me.
Oh boy.
I shut the closet a little too quickly, like that might shove the feeling back where it came from, and head straight for the bathroom. The shower clicks on, water sputtering, steam beginning to curl into the air.
I grab a towel from the cabinet, then pull open a drawer, searching for a brush since—of course—I forgot mine. Inside is a lineup of the essentials. Deodorant. Toothpaste. Floss. Q-tips. Everything in its place, like he’s got no room for chaos in here either.
I pick up the deodorant without thinking, popping the cap off. The scent hits instantly—sandalwood, warm and familiar—and for a second, I just stand there, breathing it in.
God.
I set it down quickly, like it burned me, and move to the next drawer. A comb. Not ideal, but it’ll do. The shower heats fast, and I step under it, letting the water wash away the lingering fog in my head. I don’t linger. By the time I’m dressed, hair combed as best as I can manage, I hesitate for half a second—then reach for his deodorant again.
“Bad idea,” I mutter under my breath.
And do it anyway.
The scent settles against my skin instantly, wrapping around me and squeezing tight. Yeah… this might be a special kind of torture.
Too late now.
The sound of thundering feet and a high-pitched laugh drifts up the stairs as I step out of his room, pulling the door shut behind me. By the time I reach the main level, the chaos is in full swing—two boys and one very fast kitten tearing through the house like a storm.
“Did you guys eat?” I call out, stepping into the kitchen.
A glance around tells me everything I need to know. Bright cereal boxes line the counter—far brighter and far sweeter than anything I’d ever normally allow. Apparently, while I was at school, Tuck took them shopping and let them go wild.
It’s temporary, so I’ll let them have this, for now.
“Yeah,” Lucas calls, already halfway to the stairs. “Gotta shower.”
He disappears in a blur, and a second later Josh walks in, Marbles tucked against his chest. My heart stutters, because the way he takes care of that cat makes me think he’ll be a good father someday, despite the absence of his own.
“Hey, hon,” I say easily. “Did you eat?”
“Not yet.”
“You want me to make you some scrambled eggs?”
Mischief lights up his whole face as he reaches for a box of Cocoa Balls, shaking it triumphantly. “Nope. I’m having these.”
He pours an absurd amount into a bowl, milk splashing over the top and spraying everywhere.
