by Emma Louise
“Pardon?”
“Which of my daughters are you here for?”
I was pretty sure he was going to murder me for even thinking about asking one of his girls out on a date, but I knew then, even as a stupid sixteen-year-old, that Brooke was worth the risk. After getting Duke’s permission, actually asking Brooke on a date was a walk in the park. I asked her out the day after she turned sixteen. I’d been waiting for that day ever since I heard one of the guys in the locker room saying he’d asked Bailey out, but they were not allowed to date until after their birthday. We were inseparable after that. There wasn’t a single day I didn’t get to see my Brooke.
Just over two years I had her. No matter how far I’ve come in life, no matter what dreams I’ve accomplished, those were still the best two years I’ve ever known.
The sound of tires crunching over the gravel parking lot snap me out of thoughts of the past. Standing, I find my feet walking toward her car without thought. My hand is on the door before the engine is even off. What would it be like to pull her out of that seat? To wrap her up in my arms and kiss the breath clean out of her?
Instead, I have to settle for watching as she climbs out of the Jeep. Her long, graceful legs carry her closer to where I stand. “Hi, I … uh … I got you a coffee.” I finally manage to stammer the words out, holding the cup toward her. “It’s probably cold now,” I babble on nervously. “I got it when I got here a while ago, sorry.” Seeing her, being this close to her has me thrown off kilter.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says so softly, not offering an explanation.
“You thought about not coming, right?” I can’t see her eyes that are hidden behind the dark lens of her sunglasses, but I do see a faint smile edge her lips.
“I definitely thought about it.” Her small sigh is tinged with faint laughter. Something about the honesty of the exchange breaks the tension of the moment, and both of us finally seem to relax a little.
“Walk with me?” I hold my hand out, indicating the beach in front of us.
“I love it here.” Brooke breaks the silence after a few minutes of us walking on the sand.
“It’s a beautiful view,” I say, never taking my eyes off her. I don’t miss how Brooke doesn’t look my way. She keeps her eyes trained on the waves that break against the sand in front of us.
“I need to say sorry to you.”
“I accept your apology, Tucker.” Her use of my full name is a reminder of how much of a dick I’ve been to her.
“You caught me off guard that night, at the benefit. The very last thing I expected to see was you standing there.”
“I never would have gone if I'd have known there was even a possibility you’d be there,” Brooke says softly.
“It was like the last ten years didn't happen. You stood there, and all I wanted to do was reach out and pull you into my arms,” I tell her the truth I’ve been struggling with over the last few weeks.
“Tucker—” Brooke’s pained whisper cuts through me.
“Tuck,” I interrupt her. “You only call me Tucker when you’re mad at me.”
“Well excuse me for being confused,” she snaps, and Jesus Christ, she even does the same hand on hip move she used to do whenever she was annoyed at me. “After what happened last week, I thought I was only permitted to call you Tucker these days.” I want to smile at my sweet Brooke, trying so damn hard to be sarcastic, but the severity of this moment stops me. She’s not your sweet Brooke anymore, my brain reminds me.
I could punch myself in the face at the reminder of that horrible night. “I know they’re just words but, Brooke, I promise you, I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you that night. I never should have grabbed you like that.”
She stares up at me for a beat, zero judgment in her eyes. I can see she’s battling with how to handle this conversation, and there’s not a part of me that blames her. She doesn’t say anything as her gaze slides back to the water in front of us.
“Can I get a do-over?” I push on, desperation for her to give me this fueling my words. “I want to pretend the last few weeks never happened. I’ll never forgive myself for how I treated you, but I want a chance to do it all over again.”
Brooke stares out at the water for the longest time. I’m sure she’s going to tell me to go fuck myself, and I can’t say I'd blame her. The things I’ve said to her, the things I’ve done. Why should she forgive and forget?
She stands and starts to walk away. My heart hits my stomach at the sight of her leaving. She stops a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly over herself. Part of me wishes I could freeze this moment. The soft breeze whips around us, lifting the ends of Brooke’s hair. I can see her face in profile, tilted back with her eyes closed. Her beauty floors me, and the longer I look at her, the surer I become that she’s the only one for me.
“What do you want from me, Tuck?”
You. I’ve only ever wanted you. The thought is immediate, but I know I can’t say it out loud. Not yet. She’ll run if I tell her all the things I really want from her.
“I just want the chance to get to know you again. I want my best friend back.”
It might be the biggest lie I’ve ever told, but it will be worth it to have her back in my life. I don’t want just my best friend back; I want the love of my life back. These last few weeks have been a nightmare, but they’ve taught me something. I was numb before. Living life and not feeling any of it. I might have been lost in pain and bad decisions since Brooke came back, but Zander’s words have been on a loop in my mind all day.
It’s time to start feeling again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BROOKE
I just want the chance to get to know you again.
Why do I feel a pang of disappointment at his words? Did I really think he was going to declare his undying love for me? Or for him to sweep me off my feet and kiss the hell out of me? Pushing down those thoughts, I remind myself of all the reasons I should be glad he isn’t asking for us to try again. Tucker has a whole new life now. A wildly successful life doing the one thing he always dreamed of doing. I only ever came second to that, and I already know what it’s like to be second best.
My own father loved me and my sister, but it wasn’t enough. We were not enough. My thoughts go back to that night, the night I pushed Tucker away. I didn't plan to make him choose, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The ultimatum was issued. The death warrant for our relationship signed and sealed.
I didn’t plan to run away after that night, but I felt like I didn’t have a choice. If I'd have stayed, Tucker would have apologized. I would have accepted. We both would have pretended that night didn't happen. But that’s all it would have been—pretend. The words would have always been there, a spectre over us. One of us would have grown resentful in the end. And the real reason I begged him not to go would have come out. I have to push that thought right out of my head. I’m not ready to pick at that wound. I probably won’t ever be ready.
Friends. The very last thing I want from Tucker Neal is friendship, but what’s the alternative? Going back to pretending he doesn’t exist? Now that he’s back in my life, I’m not sure I can do that.
“I’m not sure I can do this, Tuck,” I finally say my thoughts out loud when I feel him move to stand closer to my side.
“I’m sure enough for both of us.” His voice is pure steely determination that’s matched by the intensity of his stare.
“Friends it is then,” I finally say, and I don’t miss the way he falters slightly. Is it disappointment I see flit across his face? Or is it relief? Whatever it is, it’s gone before I can blink. Instead, there’s a smile that lights up his face. It makes him look younger, more like my Tucker. Not the bigger, harder version of him that he’s grown up to be.
This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten to look at him properly, but the other times I’ve been so caught off guard I haven't appreciated just how well he grew into himself. He was always tall, but h
e’s gained a few inches over the years. He towers over me now. His dark hair is still unruly, but the back and sides have been cropped closer, the top still long enough for him to run his hands through. His face is harder, though, the boyish features have morphed into cut edges and sharp lines. He's not the boy I loved at eighteen anymore, but that just means I want to get to know the man he’s become.
“I’m not surprised you followed through with becoming a therapist,” Tucker says, nudging his arm against my shoulder. The simple touch is enough to set off a cascade of goose bumps over the bare skin of my arms. We’ve spent the last hour mostly making small talk about our lives over the last few years, the conversation has stayed easy enough, never touching on us or what we used to be to each other. The conversation might have stayed light, but Tucker’s constant touches have been driving me crazy. It doesn’t matter if it’s a brush of his finger against the back of my hand as we walk, or a tug on the end of my hair; I’m in hell. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but I have the strangest feeling that he is doing it on purpose.
I keep catching myself leaning in closer to him. It’s muscle memory. My body must remember what it’s like to be near him because I can’t seem to pull myself back from trying to get as close as I can.
Swallowing down the desire to burrow under his arm like I would have ten years ago, I take a step away from his warmth. “Yeah, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else,” I finally answer. “And I love getting to work at The House. It’s such a simple but effective idea.”
Tucker nods, but he doesn’t answer. Is he thinking how different his life might have been if he’d had someone like Rylee and Corporate Cares to go to the many times he was put in foster care as a kid? My heart clenches at the thought of him as a little boy, not having anyone to turn to.
Sensing the mood has taken a turn, Tucker paints a fake smile on his face and keeps on walking. I want so badly to go to him, to give him some comfort. To pull him into my arms and kiss away the darkness that passed over his face.
It’s a stark reminder of who we are to each other when I realize that doing any of those things is not an option.
Not anymore.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TUCKER
“Looks like your boy is back.” I hear Becks give a hoot of laughter through my headset as I push the car faster and faster around the twists and turns of the track. Adrenaline fuels each movement, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm not stuck inside my own mind. My focus is on the car and the track laid out in front of me.
“Finally pulled his head of his ass then?” Colton joins in over the radio.
“I can hear you, assholes,” I mutter, not letting their ribbing pull my focus from the car.
“Good to have you back, Tuck.” Colton's voice is sincere, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to have him say that to me.
Thankfully, the rest of the test drive passes with no more wise-ass remarks from the crew. A few hours of meetings later, and I find myself with a long afternoon with nothing to do. I’m not hanging around the track and giving those jackasses any more opportunities to make me the butt of their jokes over the goofy grin I’ve had on my face since seeing Brooke last week.
It's been six days since I saw her last. Giving her space has been a killer for me, but I’m positive she needs it. If she’s still anything like the Brooke I knew all those years ago, she’ll be overwhelmed by me being back in her life. Hell, I’ve hardly had the best reaction myself. We can both probably benefit from taking a step back and assessing everything that’s happened.
After our walk on the beach, I was almost desperate to make plans to see her again. There she was, standing in front of me for the first time in forever, and it was almost like we’d never been apart. The familiarity, that pull I always had toward her was there and just as strong as it ever was. As much I wanted to grab ahold of her, I managed to control the impulse. For now, at least.
Pulling my phone out, I scroll through the few messages we’ve exchanged. Just a good morning or good night here and there, small talk that doesn’t leave room for me to inadvertently piss her off. It might not be anything groundbreaking, but it’s enough to spark a thread of excitement in me. I want to see her. Sporadic messages aren’t enough anymore.
It's time to put my get Brooke Nash back plan into action.
***
The bunch of flowers in my hands are surprisingly heavy and should probably be the first hint that I went a little overboard. They’re huge. It took a bit of persuasion, but I managed to get Rylee to tell me the times Brooke would be at The House this week, so I know she should be walking out of that door at any minute.
I’m leaning against the side of her Jeep when the front door opens less than five minutes later, and a gang of little legs are running in my direction.
“Tucker! You're here!” Jacob shouts when he’s the first to get to me.
“Are you here to play ball with us?” Calvin, one of the older boys, asks, trying to act cool but failing to hide the hint of anticipation that is showing all over his face.
“Not today. Sorry, boys.” There’s a round of disappointed groans.
“Pretty flowers.” My head snaps up at the sweet voice that floats above the boys’ protests. She’s leaning casually against the door frame, one long tanned leg crossed over the other. The dress she’s wearing has what looks like miles of toned flesh on display.
“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl,” I say, earning a chuckle from her at my cheesy line. There it is, that thump in my chest that steals a breath from me every time I see her smile. “Are you free this afternoon? I have something I’d like to show you,” I ask when I realize I’ve been standing here staring at her for a touch too long.
An adorable blush hits Brooke’s cheek as she looks from me to the boys, who are now watching our exchange quietly. It might not be my finest moment, but I’m not opposed to using the fact that we have an audience to my advantage. “Don’t leave me hanging here, babe.” I push when she doesn’t answer.
“Say yes, Ms. Brooke,” Calvin calls out, causing a round of little voices to shout their own agreements.
“I don’t know, guys.” She sighs, but I can hear the amusement in her voice. “I kind of have important plans with my Kindle later today.”
“No!”
“Don’t be a bore!”
“Go out with him!” Each of the boy’s clamor to be the loudest voice as they join in with her game.
“Okay!” She finally relents on a melodious giggle, holding her hands up in front of herself in mock defense. The smile that lights up Brooke’s face as the kids crowd around her is magnificent. She’s a vision. Long blonde hair that frames the stunning face I’ve spent years trying to get over. A face I never could.
“I can’t believe you ambushed me like that,” Brooke says on an amused chuckle when we’re safely in my truck a few minutes later. It took a little persuasion, but I managed to get her to agree to leaving her Jeep at The House. I told her it was because where we’re going is a surprise, but in reality, I just want to be near her.
“I’m not above using underhand tactics to get what I want, Brooke.”
“Hmm.” The soft murmur is her only response, but I can see the smile edging her lips, even though her gaze is trained out the passenger window.
“The flowers are beautiful too. I’m surprised you remembered.” Shifting in my seat, I want to tell her I’ve never forgotten a single thing about her. Not that Peonies are her favorite flowers. Not that she takes her coffee with way too many sugars. Not how her kisses taste like strawberries.
“I remember a lot of things.” Silence hangs thick between us after that. I’m terrified to say the wrong thing and have this tentative truce we’ve developed shatter. She doesn’t ask where we’re going, or how long it will take. She seems comfortable to be along for the ride.
“Have you gotten out much since you moved here?” I ask when we find ourselves stuck in the late af
ternoon traffic for the second time. I regret asking the question as soon as it’s out there. My mind flashes back to her and that guy she was out with. Had she been on a date? Just the thought of that has me white knuckling the steering wheel.
“Some. Chase hasn’t been in town much, but we’ve managed to get dinner a couple of times.”
"Your cousin?” I ask, kicking myself for forgetting her cousin is a wide receiver for the LA Sharks.
“Yeah. He was drafted by the Sharks right out of college,” she tells me, pride evident in her words. “He’s been living out here for two years now.
“I remember seeing that. He's doing great things there; they’re on fire this season. His parents must be proud.”
“Everyone is.” Brooke’s face lights up as she talks about her family. Twisting in her seat so she’s facing me, she tells me all about her siblings and cousins and all the things they’re doing now. I’d grown close to all of Brooke’s family when we dated in high school. Her parents and their group of friends were super close. Coming from a broken home like mine, it had taken me a while to get used to how they all were with each other, but they easily accepted me into the fold, and I got my first glimpse of how a real family should interact with each other.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m hit with a pang of homesickness. A burst of longing for how things used to be. Not just with Brooke, but with all of them. I regret so many things, losing her being the biggest, but losing the family comes a close second.
Brooke’s sweet voice fills the truck as we finally start moving again. The love she has for her family shines through each of her words, cementing my thoughts from last week. I want back in there. And I’m not sure how much longer I can go without leaning over and kissing her breathless.
“Where are we going?” Brooke finally asks when I pull the car into a space outside an isolated non-descript building a few miles out of town.
“You still hate surprises, huh?”
“Maybe,” she says, and I can practically hear the smile in her voice.
