And Then You Kiss

by Heather A Buchman

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Tucker—”

  “Get out of the truck Blythe.”

  He hated the look on her face. Hated it. But he hated the feelings warring inside him more. He told her he wanted to talk. He’d been ready then. Now he wasn’t. And the last thing he wanted to do was pretend the last half hour didn’t happen. He had no intention of going inside and playing the role of “boyfriend.”

  “Tucker, please.”

  “Blythe, if you don’t get out of the truck, you’re gonna end up going with me, and right now, I don’t know where I’m headed.”

  “Back to Spain?”

  He wanted to kiss that look right of her damn face. And he wouldn’t be gentle about it when he did it. She was playing with fire. He looked away from her, out the window.

  “Don’t leave this way.”

  Was she kidding? He’d given her every opportunity back at the inn. Every opportunity. It was too late in the game for this play. She needed to get the hell out of the truck.

  “I’m going to give you sixty seconds to get out of this truck, and if you’re not, I’m leaving with you in it.”

  “Tucker—”

  “Get out of the truck. Now.”

  She did. Thank God. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if she hadn’t. The door was barely closed before he threw the truck in reverse and peeled out of the driveway.

  He saw her, standing there, in the rear view mirror. The look on her face would haunt him, but he couldn’t let himself turn around. There had been another time the girl had gone with him. He learned his lesson. It was better to drive away.

  As soon as he got far enough from the house that he knew she wouldn’t be able to see him, he pulled the truck over. He wanted to pound his fist on something, maybe put it through the dashboard. He got out of the truck instead. He stopped himself the second before he slammed his fist into the side of the truck. That would be all he needed. Work was his only outlet. If he hurt his hand, he’d have nothing.

  What was he doing? He wished he knew. He wanted to talk to her about this thing between them. He wanted to tell her how long it had been since he felt this way about anyone. That he never thought he would again. She had no idea how hard it was for him to come that close to opening up to her.

  Why had she freaked out so much when he said it was time for him to go home? It was, there were things he needed to take care of. Had she listened, he would’ve told her that he’d be back, and when he was, he wanted to spend time with her. He’d even started to think about how they could be together all the time. He wasn’t sure if that meant she should come to Aspen, or if he would come to Monument.

  When she asked him about Thanksgiving, he almost felt as though he could tell her. If they’d talked about everything else, he may have. Now he didn’t know if he ever would.

  He wanted to drive home. That was his modus operandi after all. Pack. Leave. Repack. Leave again. Get as far away as he could. Only he’d never found a far away far enough.

  ***

  “Hi,” said Bree.

  Blythe jumped. She hadn’t seen her sister sitting on the front porch.

  “Hi.”

  “He left in an awful big hurry.”

  “Yeah. I guess I made him mad.”

  “You guess?”

  Blythe couldn’t tell if Bree was making a joke by stating the obvious, or asking her a question. She sat down next to her. When she leaned over and put her head on her sister’s shoulder, Bree leaned back and put her arm around Blythe’s shoulders.

  “I should be comforting you,” said Blythe.

  “You did plenty of that. My turn to take care of my little sister.”

  Blythe started to cry. It was the last thing she should be doing. She had a fight with Tucker, if you could call it that, but he was still alive. Bree’s husband wasn’t. She tried to wipe the tears away before Bree noticed.

  “It’s okay to cry. There isn’t a scorecard. I don’t have any more crying points than you do.”

  “I wish he hadn’t left.”

  “Tell him that, right now. Call him, text him, however you can reach him. Tell him.”

  Blythe wondered if something had gone on between Bree and Zack before he left. Maybe they had a fight; maybe there was something between them that had been left unsaid.

  “Okay,” Blythe whispered. She pulled out her phone and texted him.

  I’m sorry, she wrote. I wish you hadn’t left. She thought for a minute and added, please give me another chance.

  ***

  His phone pinged. Whoever it was, whatever they wanted, he didn’t care. He had nothing to give to anyone else right now. As hard as he tried not to look, he couldn’t help himself.

  Of course it was Blythe. She couldn’t let him leave. She wouldn’t let him disappear again. She had to reach out, didn’t she? Every time he closed his eyes he could see the look on her face when he drove away. And here he was; he hadn’t gotten further than two blocks away from her.

  Where are you?

  What could he say? Around the corner.

  Are you at the inn? I’ll come over. Have to see you Tucker. Please don’t leave me again.

  He stood and stared at the phone. He wasn’t sure he was breathing. It was one of those moments. He could be stubborn, and ignore her. But would that get him anywhere? Would it get him what he wanted? Did he even know what he wanted?

  He realized he wasn’t standing still any longer. He was walking toward her house. If he cut through the woods, he’d be there in less than two minutes.

  Meet me outside, he texted back.

  ***

  “What?” asked Bree.

  “He’s coming back.”

  Bree got up to go inside.

  “Wait, you don’t have to go.”

  “Do this Blythe. Talk to him. Don’t let him leave like this.”

  Blythe walked to the end of the driveway and watched for his truck to come back down the road. She was so focused on watching for him, she didn’t hear him walk up behind her.

  “Blythe,” he breathed into her hair.

  She spun around and he caught her as she threw her arms around him. “Oh Tucker,” she cried. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry Blythe. I don’t know what…”

  She didn’t let him finish. She reached up and brought his head down close enough that she could brush her lips across his. She opened her mouth to him, and he took it. They stood at the end of her driveway, bodies intertwined, mouths locked together, as though they were a couple of teenagers, with nowhere else to go.

  “Where’s your truck?” she asked finally.

  “I didn’t get very far. I was too pissed to drive, so I pulled over.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  He kissed her forehead. “Blythe, this isn’t easy for me. I want us to talk. There are things I want to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Let’s talk. Do you want to go back to the inn, or do you want to go somewhere else?”

  Tucker looked out over the valley in front of them. On the other side of the highway he could see what looked like a fire road going up the side of Mount Herman.

  “Ever been on that road?” he asked her.

  “Many times. My dad and I go up there and shoot.”

  “When’s the last time you were up there? Is the road open?”

  “I don’t know, maybe three weeks ago. We haven’t had much snow since then, I’m sure it’s open.”

  “Do you need to let anyone know you’re leaving again?”

  “Nobody saw me, except Bree. She won’t say anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she was the one who insisted I tell you I wished you hadn’t left.”

  Tucker nodded his head, as if he understood and took Blythe’s hand in his. “Let’s go.” They walked hand in hand back through the woods to where he’d left his truck.

  What would he say to her? He wa
nted to talk, but where did he start? He wanted more in his life, he wanted Blythe to wipe away the bad, and replace it with light, and love. But he wasn’t sure how to ask for it. He’d spent so many years believing he was incapable of loving or being loved by a woman. That was his damage, as Jace called it.

  His brother felt it, that’s how he knew what to name it. Tucker was damaged. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider it would be possible to repair his heart, or his soul. But since he’d met Blythe, he’d felt hope. Even in the light of tragedy that hit too close, he’d felt hope.

  She was quiet, sitting there in his truck, looking out the window as he made his way toward the remote mountain road. She’d practically begged him to come back to the house, to give her another chance. Now that he had, she was waiting for him to talk, to tell her what was so important that her unwillingness to hear him set him off, made him angry, made him leave.

  He was scared, that was the truth of it. What would happen when he talked about the one thing he vowed he never would? Allowing himself to would mean the wound would be ripped open. Would he be able to get through it without breaking down? He doubted it. And when he did, how would Blythe react? Particularly now. She hadn’t had any time to process through the grief of the last week. Would she take on his pain too, the way she had her sister’s?

  No matter what, he couldn’t start talking about it until he found a place to pull off the road. He couldn’t risk starting the conversation when it was more than likely his eyes would fill with tears, his body would react physically in other ways to the pain, and he would not be able to drive.

  “You turn here,” she said so softly he almost missed it. The paved portion of the road ended, replaced by rough, washboard-ridden dirt in its place. Snow was piled on either side, but the road itself was clear.

  When he rounded the bend, the last thing he expected was another car, coming from the opposite direction, driving down the center of the narrow road, as he was. When he tried to swerve to miss it, his truck hit a patch of ice and careened off into the woods. He frantically tried to turn into it, keep the truck from skidding further, but he couldn’t stop it. It hit a rock and he knew they were going to roll. He looked at Blythe. Her eyes were filled with terror, and looking straight into his.

  He knew that look; he’d seen it before. The nightmare was repeating itself.

  Chapter 11

  Tucker opened his eyes. Where was he? He tried to move, but his body wasn’t responding to the demands his brain was making on it. The truck was on an angle, the passenger side closest to the ground. Blythe’s back was to him. She was face down, as though she was still looking out the window. He couldn’t tell whether or not she was breathing.

  The last thing he remembered was the sob of anguish he released, right before the darkness engulfed him again.

  When he woke again, he was in a hospital bed. The sights and sounds were hauntingly familiar. He raised his head. Pain. Horrible pain. He felt as though his head was in a vice. He closed his eyes against it.

  Blythe. Oh God, what had happened to Blythe? He forced his eyes back open and saw Jace asleep in the chair next to the bed. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry, his throat closed up, he could only get out a hoarse sound.

  He cleared his throat and tried again. “Jace.” This time it was loud enough that his brother woke and stood, coming closer to the bed.

  “Hey man,” he said, his own voice clouded with sleep. “How’re you doin’?”

  “Blythe?”

  The flash of a wince on his brother’s face told him more than he wanted to know. He had to know the rest. “How bad is it?”

  “She’s in surgery.”

  “Answer me. How bad?”

  “It’s bad Tuck.”

  There came the darkness again. This time he welcomed it.

  ***

  Jace drove up the mountain road behind the tow truck. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but at the very least, he had to get his brother’s personal stuff out of the truck. He’d made arrangements with the insurance company to have the damage assessed. Damage. There was that word again.

  The tow truck stopped and Jace looked up the side of hill. There it was, on its side. The top of the cab was crushed in. Looking at it, Jace couldn’t believe his brother was still alive. Or Blythe. Fate had been kinder this time. Much kinder.

  Jace sat down on a rock. He wanted to stay out of the way of the guys trying to figure out how they’d get the truck off the side of the mountain and back down the hill.

  The view was beautiful from here. Beyond the trees that blanketed the Black Forest, the prairie opened up and spread all the way to Kansas. To the south, the city of Colorado Springs lay sleepily beyond the confines of the Air Force Academy, and to the north, the skyline of the city of Denver was barely visible. The sky was so blue, and the earth so green around him. Maybe if he sat here long enough, he could push the bad memories away.

  Tucker blamed himself, carried the guilt around with him day after day. Jace buried it, denied it, tried to force it out of his mind whenever it crept back in. His biggest fear was that one day Tucker would feel it, and realize it wasn’t his own guilt he was feeling, it was Jace’s.

  ***

  “What are you doing?” Jace asked Tucker two days later.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “I know they said you were being released today, but has the doctor been in yet?”

  Jace brought Tucker clothes the night before, anticipating he’d go home today. Jace came in early enough that he’d be able to see the doctor too, and find out what aftercare instructions there might be. Tucker’s injuries were minimal, which was surprising given the state the truck was in. He’d suffered a concussion, and that was the biggest of Jace’s concerns.

  When he found Tucker ready to leave, he was surprised. He’d expected it would be noon, at least, before he was released.

  “Tucker, what did the doctor say?”

  Tucker didn’t answer.

  “I’m not taking you home until we talk to him Tuck. Don’t be an asshole. Mom and Dad are on their way too.”

  Tucker sat down on the side of the bed. A few more hours. He only had to last a few more hours, maybe as long as a day or two, then he could escape.

  He didn’t know where he’d go yet. Maybe Mexico. That was his only plan for now. And when the got there, he’d leave Tucker Rice behind. He had no intention of taking his past with him, and that included his name.

  Yesterday his parents told him Blythe was going to be okay. Her appendix ruptured in the accident, and that was why she’d been in surgery. She broke her right arm and right leg, both in several places. There would be surgeries to fix them, when she was strong enough.

  She was alive, but he still had to leave. He didn’t have a choice. He got the message. For a brief moment, he believed he could love again. And then, minutes after he’d allowed himself to hope, it was stripped away. Blythe lived, but he heard the warning loud and clear.

  ***

  The bones in Blythe’s right arm and right leg were shattered—multiple breaks and fractures in both of them. Her face was covered in cuts and abrasions from the truck window that shattered in much the same way her bones had.

  She woke once and saw someone sitting by her bed. At first she thought it was Tucker, but realized it was Jace.

  Her father told her that Tucker was okay. He’d suffered a concussion and was expected to be released in a day or two. At least she thought that’s what he said. Everything was fuzzy; she couldn’t remember whether he’d actually said it or she dreamt it.

  When she woke again, Jace was gone, and Bree was in the chair he’d been in.

  “Hey,” Bree said, when she noticed Blythe’s eyes were open. “How are you feeling Sleeping Beauty?”

  How did she feel? As though she’d been rolled over by a truck. But from what they told her, she’d been inside the truck when it rolled. Sleep was the only relief she could get from the pain.

  “Where�
��s Tucker?” she asked, without answering her sister’s question.

  “He was released today sweetie.”

  Released. Maybe he’d come to see her later, or tomorrow. She let herself drift back into sleep. She’d see if someone could call him and ask, after she slept a little bit longer.

  ***

  Brooke and her husband came to the hospital to say goodbye before they went back to Germany. Brooke started lecturing her about how none of this would have happened if she hadn’t been with Tucker in the first place.

  Blythe’s response was simple. “Get out,” she turned her head and closed her eyes. She wasn’t interested in hearing anything her sister had to say.

  The only thing she wanted to know, and no one seemed to be able to tell her, was where Tucker was.

  ***

  “How’s she doing?”

  Blythe pretended to be asleep when she heard Jace’s voice. He was talking to Bree.

  “She’s getting there. She stopped asking about him.”

  “We don’t know where he is,” Jace whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He left the day after he got out of the hospital. It isn’t unlike him, but…”

  “Finish your sentence,” Bree insisted.

  “He usually checks in by now, and he hasn’t. My parents are worried sick. So am I to be honest.”

  “Why would he leave? Doesn’t he care how Blythe is? For Christ’s sake, it’s his fault she’s here at all.”

  Blythe winced at that. It had been an accident. It wasn’t Tucker’s fault. She almost interjected her opinion, but wanted to hear what Jace had to say, if he continued.

  “That’s why he’s gone. It’s the second time this has happened.”

  “Come with me,” said Bree, in her authoritative tone. Blythe wanted to stop them, so she could hear the rest, but something told her it was a story she didn’t want to hear. Instead she closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.

  ***

  Blythe was going home in a couple of days. She’d be back in a week for surgery on her arm. Not long after, they’d operate on her leg. It had been explained to her more than once, but she was too groggy from the pain meds to understand much of what they were telling her.