“Then I lose the finger!” Tucker all but roared, and Marcy’s blonde ponytail whipped behind her as she snapped her head in his direction.
“And then where would that leave you, huh? With no finger to wear that ring!” she shot back.
I threw up my hands between them, stepping into the stall to force some literal distance between the two of them. I doubted anything would really happen, but they were squabbling more like siblings than boss and employee. Plus I hadn’t gotten to know Marcy well enough over the past week to determine if she was the kind of person to calm themselves or the type to never back down from a fight. Though, I might know well enough now.
“Okay! Okay,” I soothed. “Obviously emotions are high, so let’s all take a second to breathe, yeah?”
Marcy huffed again and crossed her arms over her chest,reminding me far too much of a Shetland pony with her small stature and snippy attitude. Tucker, for his part, turned around, clearly needing to collect himself. I could only imagine what was going through his head.
This was another part of Raleigh that he couldn’t bear to part with, and even the idea of taking that band off for a few days clearly felt like a hurdle he couldn’t cross. But Marcy’s concerns were real too. We’d all be kicking ourselves if something happened to him and it could’ve been prevented.
Once they both seemed to calm a little, I turned to Tucker and held my hand out toward him, palm up. “Let me see the hand.”
Almost immediately, he bristled, and I watched in real time as all the muscles in his back stiffened while he turned in my direction. “Why do you need to see my hand?”
“I want to see how bad it looks.”
“What for? You’re not a doctor, so you’re not going to be able to do anything more than Mars already did.”
I raised an eyebrow, holding firm in my request and keeping my hand out before him. Tucker’s whiskey eyes bore back into mine, and if we’d been alone with the air charged in a tension of the nonsexual variety, I might’ve been tempted to roll over and back down. Maybe even go ass up while I was down there.
But I could feel Marcy’s blue eyes bouncing between us as she waited for the victor of this stare down. It took a moment, but piece by piece, Tucker’s resolve fell away until he let out a weary sigh and dutifully dropped his hand into mine with low grumbles under his breath. That didn’t bother me, though, because my attention immediately focused on the damage.
Fuck. His hand looked bad.
The bruising encompassed a good portion of the back of it, spanning from the first joint of his ring and middle finger all the way down to almost where his wrist began. It was a deep purple, but the outer edges looked red and angry. The swelling almost completelyobscured the knuckles of his middle, ring, and pinky fingers. Even without a medical degree, I could tell this wasn’t something you could just pop a few painkillers for and sleep off.
Ugly tendrils of guilt slithered through me knowing the part I played in causing this, but something else swam in the murky waters of my own condemnation. Maybe it was fucked up to be looking at this blotchy mess on his hand and seeing something other than the injury it was, but all I saw was the physical embodiment of the budding connection Tucker and I shared. Before it all, in the moment of our descent, Tucker had moved to protect me. His body had instinctually cradled me against him and prevented my head from hitting the ground.
I hadn’t put a lot of thought into it till this moment, but this bruise was more proof that I wasn’t alone in my feelings, and fuck if that didn’t make some sick, twisted part of me happy—happy he’d used that split second to prioritize my wellbeing.
Chewing on my lower lip, the complicated emotions inside me made it hard to swallow. Sure, Marcy had said it didn’t look broken, but we couldn’t be sure. What if he’d seriously fucked up his hand? And I was over herehappyhe’d done it for me.
Tucker grunted, shifting on his feet a little and making me look up at him. I was met with honeyed hues, golden and rich, with a bit of spice mixed in, like cinnamon. They were warm and radiant like an early morning sunrise over a sleepy town, and all I wanted to do was lose myself in their inviting embrace.
“I’m okay. I promise.” His voice was low, meant only for the two of us, but his deep timbre slunk its way up my spine, sending ripples of shivers in its wake. Those damn eyes tracked over my face, lingering over every point of worry surely etched into it.
“It looks painful,” I said, trying to fight back all the warring emotions while not getting lost once again in Tucker Legare’s devastating looks.
He just shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not that bad when I’m notusing it. Making a fist doesn't feel too good, but otherwise it’s tolerable.”
Meaning he was in pain all the time, even at rest. I dropped my gaze back to his hand, letting out a slow sigh. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a dipshit who couldn’t keep his head on straight when around his boss, none of this would have happened.
My eyes lingered on the simple gold ring encompassing Tucker’s finger, a gleam casting off it from the overhead lights. It was a stark contrast set against the discoloration surrounding it, and the swelling was already starting to encroach on the band. Gently, I rubbed my thumb along the smooth metal.
“It would be horrible if they had to break this ring,” I commented, glancing back up to look Tucker in the eye.
“I wouldn’t let them,” he responded stubbornly, his jaw set, and I heard Marcy let out another frustrated huff behind me.
“Tucker,” I tried again, moving back into his line of sight when he sent a glare Marcy’s way. “We all know what this ring represents. I do, you do, and I damn sure know Marcy does. No one is taking lightly what it means.” Gingerly, I wrapped both my hands around his injured one. “But we also know the importance of these hands, too. They do valuable work on this farm, and they deserve to be protected just as much as the commitment you made.”
Tucker’s jaw jutted out more the longer I talked, and I worried for a moment that I’d pissed him off. But then he spoke, his words watery and dripping with the anguish of three years’ worth of bottled-up love he held inside him. “I can’t take it off.”
I let out a slow breath through my nose. “Taking the ring off doesn’t mean the commitment is over, Tucker. The love you have for Raleigh doesn’t just vanish into thin air because you’re not wearing your ring anymore. It stays with you. It lives in you. The ring is a symbol, not the material.”
My hands itched to pull Tucker against me because the small tremble of his lower lip as I continued to speak nearly did me in. But I was painfully aware we weren’t alone. Had it been just the two of us,I’d have already done it—tugged him to me and whispered all these words into his skin so he could have the privacy to fall apart if he needed to. I’d be his rock, his sanctuary, or his voice of reason whenever he needed. I could be it all for him, if he let me.
I held my breath as Tucker seemed to take in everything I was saying, but then he sniffed, trying to discretely wipe at his eyes with his good hand as he composed himself.
