Words I Couldn't Say (Promise in Prose #1)

by Tessa Teevan

  But that’s not what I got.

  He cleared his throat again. “You should go. I’m sure your family’s waiting,” he said.

  It was the last thing I wanted to do—leave him with this uneasiness between us. But I wasn’t going to push him if he wasn’t ready. I’d bide my time until he was. So I nodded then, with regret, opened the door and slid out of his truck.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I mumbled after grabbing my luggage. I started off towards my home, not allowing myself to look at him for fear he’d see the tears welling in my eyes—this time for him, not the nostalgia of the city. That was it. Our big moment. And I’d been too cowardly to tell him what I’d wanted to say for far too long.

  “Hey, Ava?” Tucker called, his soft voice stopping me in his tracks.

  When I snuck a peek back at him, he was out of his truck and watching me with an intensity I couldn’t quite read. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he hesitated. Then, with three quick strides, he crossed the yard until he was standing so close I could hardly breathe. A rough hand rose to cup my cheek. I wanted to turn towards his touch, close my eyes, and revel in his nearness. Instead, I stood motionless as his eyes darted back and forth between mine, almost as if he were unsure of himself.

  “I just wanted to say… I’m glad you’re home.”

  My heart flip-flopped, my stomach joining it. I blinked twice, unsure of what to say. The emotional rollercoaster I’d been on since I’d stepped off the plane had sent my heart into a tailspin, but those four words from Tucker set it right back on course.

  “I’m glad, too,” I admitted, because it was the truth. And knowing he was happy to have me here? That meant so much more than he would ever know. It was a step in the right direction, even if it was just a baby one. “Umm, so like I said earlier, I’ll be in town filming for a while. My schedule is going to be pretty intense, but maybe in my downtime, we can spend some time together?”

  His lips curved up, forming a magnificently beautiful smile. The first genuine Tucker Manning smile I’d seen in far too long. I was pleased to see that, even though his physique had changed, his adorable dimples were still there, making him look more like the cute boy I’d fallen for.

  “I’d like that,” he responded, using one of his thumbs to caress my cheek. “I’d like that a lot.”

  Something in his voice had me closing my eyes, rising on my tiptoes, and going in for a kiss, but then the heavens above, in the form of my father, opened up and decided to rain on my parade.

  “Ava Victoria Banks, get your pretty little butt over here and give your old man a hug!”

  “Yeah, Ava! We’ve been waiting all day for you to get here!” That was my littlest brother, who was probably more excited about my suitcase full of presents than actually having his big sister back in the house.

  I groaned in contrast to my dad’s jovial laughter and dropped back down to my feet, the moment having been ruined. “So much for him having a late showing,” I mused, wondering if my dad had set this whole thing up. Knowing my dad, he probably had set this whole thing up.

  “You’d better go,” Tucker murmured, his hand dropping from my face.

  I nodded but made no move away from him.

  “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  Impulsively, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. His arms instinctively enveloped me in a way that made it seemed like we’d spent no time apart. Sure, I’d been back in Cincinnati for nearly an hour, but now, with him holding me, I finally felt like I was home.

  “If I come, will the door be open?” I asked softly so only he could hear.

  He dipped his head, pressing his lips to my ear. The sensation of his hot breath on my skin sent instant shivers down my spine.

  “My door never closed, Little Bird.”

  If I hadn’t been firmly planted on the ground, I would’ve tumbled over. Even still, I was rocked to the core when he called me his old, teasing nickname. I was hit with an onslaught of realization, and I wondered how I hadn’t seen it until now. The reason Abigail and Trevor’s story seemed so familiar, and how it had resonated so profoundly with me.

  I pulled back, my eyes searching his. “You?”

  He hesitated then slowly nodded, his smile contemplative—and maybe, just maybe, a bit playful. “Hasn’t it always been me?”

  Before I could respond, he gave my cheek one last brush with his knuckles and then walked towards his house, not looking back, not elaborating, and leaving me there to wonder what all of this could possibly mean.

  AS MUCH AS I LOVE Jeremy Banks—and I love the guy a lot because he’s like my second dad—I could have killed him for ruining that moment between Ava and me. She’d been so close to kissing me before he interrupted.

  It’d knocked me off-balance, so I’d let Little Bird slip. The moment I had, her eyes had cleared of tears and rounded in sudden recognition. That’s when I knew that Ava had read Trevor and Abigail’s story. Or at least the screenplay. That’s when she realized I was the man behind the pen name.

  The awestruck look in her eyes let me know I’d done the right thing. Initially, I hadn’t wanted her to know. I hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Sure, it’d been labeled fiction, but that didn’t change the fact that I’d laid myself bare in front of the entire world when I’d written that book. Through endless nights, thousands of cups of coffee, and—I’m man enough to admit—a few tears along the way, I’d sat at my kitchen table, pouring my heart, my soul, and every piece of myself into that book.

  It had all been for her. And she knew it now. I just had to wait—and wonder—to see what she’d do about it.

  Sometimes, I wished I could go back and change everything. I wished I could’ve been just like her dad. Been the man she’d needed me to be and gone on to California. But, for all my wishing, I knew I had done the right thing by staying. I had no doubt Jeremy and Sierra would’ve taken Tanner in, but I couldn’t leave him. Not after we’d already lost our parents. We were all the other had, so I knew, without question, I would stay in Cincinnati until he was out of school.

  Still, so many nights in the last five years, I’d wondered what would have happened if I had gone to California with Ava as I’d planned.

  You see, Ava was only three days older than I was. Our parents had been neighbors—and friends—so when we had been born in the same week, our moms had thought it was fate. I would later come to believe the same. We were inseparable. Two peas in a pod that would never be shelled. She was the Bonnie to my Clyde, except in our case, she was usually the troublemaker and I was the one always along for the ride. To put it plainly, Ava secured a place in my heart from an early age, and as time passed and she blossomed into a young woman as beautiful and enchanting as her personality, it was inevitable. I was a goner for her.

  Throughout high school, however, Ava never gave any indication that she wanted anything more than a friendship. Sure, she didn’t act like she was my sister, and there were times I swear I caught her watching closely out of the corner of her eye, but I was cautious. Cowardly, I guess, but the last thing I wanted to do was ruin our friendship if my love was unrequited.

  Turned out I had nothing to worry about.

  As long as I lived, I’d never forget the way my heart hammered when Ava hunched up her dress and stomped across the gym towards me. She was breathtaking in her formal dress, and I’d been mentally berating myself all night for not having had the guts to ask her to be my date to our senior prom. Sure, she was there with Ian, who was in the closet, but it wasn’t any consolation for the fact that she wasn’t on my arm. In my arms.

  But the determined look on her face as she headed towards me had my mouth watering and my heart soaring with hope. I’d always remember the way Jeremy’s gaze darted back and forth between us before he slapped me on the shoulder.

  “Should’ve known my girl would be the first to pull the trigger.”

  He stepped out of the way just in time for Ava to grip my tie, yank
my head down to hers, and kiss me with everything she had.

  At first, I was too stunned, too amazed to return the favor, but when her tongue slipped into my mouth, I was blown away. Hesitancy shifted to passion, and if we stayed in that gym, I was going to embarrass myself. And possibly get beaten up by her dad.

  More than her kisses, I wanted her words. They say actions speak louder than words, and it’s true. Ava’s actions were absolutely speaking to me, but after years of yearning for her, I wanted to know what exactly that kiss meant.

  Somehow, I found the strength to tear my lips away from hers. It was no small feat. My mouth was rubber cement to her paper lips—prying them off was the worst hardship.

  Jeremy and Sierra called after us, but I didn’t care. I had to get Ava out of that gym.

  My heart was jack-hammering in my chest as I led her outside, not stopping until we were at the back of my truck. Her mouth opened but promptly shut when my hands gripped her tiny waist and I lifted her up to sit on the tailgate. I set my palms on both sides of her, effectively boxing her. The soft expression in her eyes told me she wasn’t going anywhere. Not that I’d have allowed it.

  Instead, I leaned in close and brushed her lips with mine.

  I could recall the night with vivid clarity. Ava’s admitting she was in love with me. The soaring in my heart when she gave me those words. The elation on her face when I returned them.

  That night was the kick-off to an incredible summer. From that first kiss to our very last, Ava and I were more than inseparable. We were connected in almost every way possible, and I was so close to getting that final connection when we found out the tragic news.

  One kiss had changed everything.

  And then one night turned our worlds upside down.

  What Ava didn’t know, though, was that, by her returning, our world was shifting back into its rightful place, and I would do anything in my power to ensure I tilted our axis until we were spinning freely again.

  Most people would probably think I was crazy. How can you love someone who broke your heart and left it shattered into tiny shards that pierced your soul and caused you to bleed for the five years she was away?

  The truth is…when you love someone to the point that you would rather bleed than put yourself back together again, there is no question. You love her. You continue to love her. And you pray like hell that she’ll one day love you enough to return.

  Because I was, straight to the core, a one-woman man. From the moment I watched her car, all packed up and prepared to drive across the country, I knew that it was true. I vowed then and there: I’d see Tanner through high school. I’d see him through the grief and the growing pains and the girls and the homework, seeing to it he knew the business and graduated with honors in order to get into a good school. Then the first thing I would do was go after Ava.

  And that’s exactly what I did, even if it was in an unconventional way.

  My gamble had paid off. Ava had come back to me.

  So, no, I wasn’t going to walk away. I wasn’t going to make her regret having left me. I was going to work my ass off, make her remember how good we were together. I was going to show her how no man would ever love her as wholly, as ultimately, as unconditionally, and as passionately as I could. As I still did.

  Because Ava Banks had been and would always be the one true love of my life. No one else would ever compare. I wouldn’t even begin to let them try.

  My life would be lived either with Ava by my side or completely alone.

  I hoped beyond hope the latter wasn’t the outcome.

  EVEN THOUGH MY DAD AND my brother continued to chant my name, all I could do was watch Tucker’s retreating form. Long after he’d walked inside, I stared after him. Wishing he’d come back outside to explain himself. More than half tempted to follow him and pick up right where we’d left off in that tree house all those years ago.

  “Ava and Tucker, sittin’ in a tree…”

  Now, all three of my brothers were outside and the Banks men were doing their best to embarrass me.

  I took one last longing look at the Manning home before turning away. Still stunned at his revelation, I slowly made my way to where my parents were standing on the front porch, their eyebrows raised in either suspicion or curiosity. My brothers were running around the yard, continuing to sing. My littlest brother, Pacey, had only been two when I’d moved to California, but even he’d been coached to make fun of Tucker and me.

  The unruly Banks family welcome was enough to make me snap out of my daze. Oh yeah, I was definitely home again.

  “Sorry to interrupt your reunion, honey, but I’ve missed my baby girl,” my dad said, bringing me in for a tight hug as soon as I was close.

  The scent of his familiar aftershave brought tears to my eyes as I hugged him back. God, I’d missed my family more than I’d allowed myself to let on. I’d always been a daddy’s girl, which made it even more ridiculous that I’d thought I’d never want a man like him or a love like his and my mom’s. What a fool I’d been.

  Mom came in for a hug, and after promising never to stay away for so long again, I spent the next few minutes greeting my anxious brothers. Pacey, of course, asked what I’d brought him from California.

  Aunt Lexi, Uncle Jace, and their brood were also in the living room, waiting for me. I shouldn’t have been surprised that they’d made their way up from Tennessee to visit me. I couldn’t get over how old my cousins were. Maya was almost eighteen, entering her senior year of college, and she was the spitting image of her mom, but she had her father’s vibrant, blue eyes. Many people thought we could pass for sisters, and it was true.

  Jackson, Maya’s younger brother by three years but still half a foot taller than she was, had obviously gone through a growth spurt since the last time I’d seen him. As much as Maya looked like her mom, Jackson was all his father’s son. His shining, ocean-sky-colored eyes were brilliant, paired with his messy, midnight-black hair.

  “You’ve nearly grown a foot since I last you,” I laughed as I struggled to wrap my arms around his neck for a hug. “What have you been eating, Jackson?”

  He squeezed me tight then pulled back. In true fourteen-year-old-boy fashion, he puffed his chest up. “Everyone calls me Jax now.”

  Oh boy. I knew exactly how that was going to go over.

  Aunt Lexi quickly shut it down. “I did not go through thirty-two hours of labor, seventy-five pages of baby name books, and thirteen arguments with your father before we settled on Jackson for you to turn around and call yourself Jax. No son of mine will ever be a Jax! Not in my household.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes then gave his mother a goofy smile. “That’s okay, Mama. We’re in Aunt Sierra’s,” he reminded her. Then he shot my mom an innocent smile.

  Having full knowledge of this dispute thanks to years of listening to my mom complain about how Kurt Sutter had ruined Jax Teller, I knew which side Mom was going to take.

  She folded her arms and shook her head. “Sorry, Jackson, but I’m with your mom on this.” She paused and looked over to Aunt Lexi. “How could he?”

  Just like that, our moms had yet another commiserating meltdown over how some ancient motorcycle club show had ended some twenty years ago. You’d think they’d have gotten over it, but nope.

  Our moms were drama queens when they liked to be. I never had to wonder where I’d gotten it from.

  Dad snuck off to the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey before handing one to Uncle Jace. Not that they weren’t used to the way their wives were when it came to their favorite television shows. Uncle Jace crossed the room and brought me in for a quick hug.

  I loved my Uncle Jace. He and Aunt Lexi had gotten married when I was five years old. One of my favorite memories was being the flower girl at their wedding, and just like every other time the whole family was together, photo albums were dug out and old home movies were streaming on the television. All thoughts of Tucker and his revelation evaporated during the next few
hours, which were spent both reminiscing and catching up on everyone’s lives since we’d all been together in Tennessee last Christmas.

  It wasn’t until later that evening, while sitting on the back porch, that I had time to wrap my mind around it what he’d revealed.

  Little Bird. How had I missed it? I had known that something was familiar, but I hadn’t put it together. How had I pushed that memory from my mind?

  God, it was all so surreal. Tucker Manning, my best friend and first—and only—love, was T.A. Bankman, the man behind the pen.

  He’d written Those Three Words.

  It was mind-blowing. His words, Tucker’s words, had touched the lives of so many people across the globe. Heck, they’d touched me. Not only that, but his words had been deemed incredible enough to be brought to life on the big screen.

  And, somehow, I was considered fit to portray Abigail, the character he’d created, whose fierce loyalty and love were nothing that mirrored my own.

  Ever since my first reading of the book, I’d identified with Trevor. As much as it had hurt to do so, I was the one who’d caused our separation. But who was I to Tucker? Trevor or Abigail? I was pretty sure which one, which led me to my next question. What did all of it mean?

  “Care for some company?”

  I turned and saw my mom carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine. “I would never say no to wine time with my mom,” I said, gratefully accepting a glass and taking a refreshing sip. “After a long day spent in the airport, this is exactly what I need.”

  “We’re happy you’re home, honey,” she told me.

  “It’s good to be home,” I answered honestly. Then I cast a glimpse to Tucker’s house, wondering if he still occupied the same room or if he’d moved into the master suite.

  “For what it’s worth, he’s missed you.” My mother was always perceptive, and she could read me like an open book any day of the week.

  “I’ve missed him, too.” My voice was a whisper, barely audible in the cool night air.