Here's to Yesterday

by Teagan Hunter

  I can feel the heat radiating off him as Tucker steps up closely behind me. He bends down to my ear. “Thanks, Ms. Doughers. I’m so glad my manager was here to handle that one for me.”

  He brushes my arm as he walks around me and toward the door, expecting me to follow him.

  I glance over at Perry, who’s giving me a concerned look. What? he mouths. I shake my head, because I don’t know what, and follow Tucker outside.

  When I reach his car, he’s waiting at the passenger door, pacing back and forth.

  And this, my friends, is a not-so-calm-and-collected Tucker Bentley.

  “I take it you’re mad,” I say.

  He shakes his head once and continues to pace. Back and forth, back and forth.

  Then he suddenly stops and spins to face me, practically stalking toward me. I back up as he walks closer and closer, because I’ve never seen him like this before.

  He reaches out to stop me, grabbing both my shoulders and bending so that we’re face-to-face.

  I have no idea what is happening, but I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a little frightened. I’m frightened because he’s not mad or upset. He appears…confused.

  “Thank you,” he says firmly, holding my stare. Suddenly he jerks me toward him, wrapping those beautifully tatted up arms around me, hugging me fiercely.

  I lightly pat his back, and he squeezes me harder.

  “I’m not letting you go until you give me a real damn hug,” he says next to my ear.

  So I comply and put my arms around him.

  And I’ll be damned if I don’t melt into his warmth. This embrace—the one I’m sharing so intimately with someone who isn’t my boyfriend—feels ten times better than any other hug I’ve ever received. Because it doesn’t feel like just a hug. It feels like an understanding of sorts. Like Tucker and I took off our masks and showed each other who we truly are.

  Letting out a deep breath, I allow myself to mold into him, and he does the same. I have no idea who is holding up whom at this point, because it feels like we’re both letting one another do all the work.

  I needed this hug. Being held like this feels good. Being appreciated—though I’m not sure what for—feels good. Like an amateur archer finally hitting their mark or a seasoned photographer capturing that elusive, perfect shot for the first time. That kind of good.

  Appreciated. It’s such a foreign word to me because I hardly ever feel it. My parents certainly never make me feel it. Sure, I feel appreciated by Rae and Perry, but they’re my best friends; they have to appreciate me. It’s part of the Bestie Code or whatever.

  Tucker finally lets up and steps away from me, pulling his mask back on and clearing his throat. He’s looking down at his feet now. No doubt he’s embarrassed by holding on to me for so long.

  “Why am I being thanked?” I dare to ask.

  He peeks up, and I can see it. It’s for a brief moment, but he is going to let me in.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he finally says.

  “Do what?”

  “Take a business card.”

  Now I’m confused because I don’t get why that’s such a huge deal. So I ask him, “But why is that so hard?”

  “Because then I’ll want to call them. Then I’ll want to have hope. And hope doesn’t get along with me. Not anymore, at least.”

  That was not what I was expecting. Hope doesn’t get along with me. What’s that supposed to mean? He stands there staring at me. I huff.

  “You’re not gonna elaborate, huh?”

  “Nope,” he answers as he turns around and opens up my door for me.

  “Right,” I say, sliding past him and climbing into his car.

  He walks casually around the front and gets in beside me. He doesn’t immediately start the car. I can feel him staring at me, but I refuse to glance over at him.

  “Maura,” he says quietly. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. It’s that I don’t want to tell you yet. Besides, it’s not just my story to tell.”

  I don’t respond as he puts the key in the ignition and cranks the car. Once it’s on, I flip the stereo to my favorite station and turn the volume up to drown him out, even though he’s not speaking either.

  It’s not just his story? Well, then who in the hell else does it belong to?

  “You don’t need to walk me to the door,” I tell Tucker as he opens my door for me in my aunt’s driveway.

  “Are you kidding me? I bet your aunt is watching out the window. She’ll probably have my balls for breakfast if I don’t walk you to the door. Plus, I’m a total gentleman.”

  I snort at this.

  “Super hot, Maura,” he mutters.

  This time I roll my eyes. “We’re here. We safely made it twenty feet from the car. Congrats, you’re a gentleman,” I tell him as we reach the front porch.

  “Your sweet words move my soul,” Tucker says, clutching his chest.

  “Why are you grabbing your chest? Your soul is you, not your heart.”

  “That was beautiful,” he says, disbelief crossing his face.

  “I know.”

  He ignores me and takes a step closer. “Did you have a nice time tonight?”

  I shrug and feign indifference. “It was okay. I heard a mediocre guitar player butcher one of my all-time favorite songs.”

  “Wonderwall is one of your all-time favorites?” he asks. “Noted.”

  He smiles sheepishly, causing the dimple in his right cheek to stand out, and continues to stand there. Okay, then.

  “Well, thanks for tonight. I guess.”

  Tucker laughs lightly. “You’re welcome. I guess.” I turn around to unlock the front door. “Goodnight, Maura.”

  I pause at the shy sweetness I suddenly hear in his voice and lean my head against the doorframe. “Goodnight, Tucker,” I tell him just as quietly.

  We stand there silently, me against the door and him waiting on the steps. We don’t say anything. We soak in the silence.

  After several moments, I hear his footsteps as he retreats to his car, and I unlock the door.

  I don’t bother taking off my clothes when I get to my room. Crawling straight into bed, I pull my blankets up over me, needing a moment to decompress, to gather myself.

  I need a second to fix my cracks because there were a lot of them tonight.

  I’ll never admit it out loud, but Tucker scares me. He always has. That’s why I purposely avoided getting close to him and flung myself into Tanner’s arms. The second our eyes met, I had a feeling about him. I knew he could see through me, would be able to get behind my façade.

  The first (unspoken) rule of being a Doughers: Never let anyone witness you take off your mask.

  And Tucker was capable of taking mine off.

  But Tanner was a safe bet from the beginning. Knowing he’d accept the Maura who coveted being the ideal daughter, I clung to him.

  Did I think he’d help me relax as much as I did? Nah. Did I think I’d lust after him so hard? No, not at all. Am I glad we got together? Absolutely, because those first few weeks with him mean more to me than I’ll ever admit. We had fun. I let loose in a way I haven’t before, but I still want to be more around him. I still feel the need to be perfect around him, afraid to make mistakes.

  Plus, he’s the first guy I took home to my parents. I admit I did because I wanted to show him off, prove to them I could do right in their eyes. I knew they’d approve of him based on his service alone, because if there’s one thing the Doughers honorably do, it’s support the troops. But part of it was because, at the time, I was into him. I thought what I was feeling was the beginning of true love.

  I was wrong. It wasn’t close to that. It was lust. Sure, I wanted Tanner, craved his companionship and body way too much, which is what lust meant to me. But I didn’t love him. I didn’t trust him with everything I had, didn’t want to build a life with him, wasn’t ready to make sacrifices for him. It wasn’t my version of love.


  So, yeah, it was only lots and lots of lust…which eventually faded. I don’t want that with Tanner, because I know now that if I stay with him, we’ll fall into a cycle. We’ll talk about the same things each day. We’ll do all the things couples are supposed to do. We’ll scratch the surface of our real feelings and sweep everything else under the rug.

  But that’s not what I want.

  I want someone who is going to challenge me, want to peel back all my layers. Tanner won’t.

  Because I think Tanner is a lot like me—full of layers. He doesn’t know that I see through the pigheaded asshole card he plays around his friends or the life-of-the-party guy he is to the rest of the world.

  That’s where we won’t work, because I don’t want that.

  I need someone who can see through me like I see through Tanner, push me to finally stick up to my asshole parents and force me to cross my carefully crafted line of perfection. And as much as it pains me to admit, Tanner isn’t the one to do any of those things. He’s too comfortable where he is.

  So, I absolutely need to break it off with him. Because for each right we have going for us, we have an equally strong wrong pushing back.

  It’s one battle I’m tired of fighting.

  I wake to find a voicemail and three missed texts from Tanner.

  My heart squeezes at this because I fell asleep not missing him or realizing I hadn’t spoken to him at all yesterday.

  The first two were sent back-to-back.

  Tanner: Babe? I tried calling…

  Tanner: Maybe it didn’t come through on your end

  And the third came thirty minutes later.

  Tanner: Guess you’re sleeping or out with Rae. I love you, babe. Goodnight.

  I text him back, not wanting to call him.

  Me: Both? Tuck played last night and we all went to watch. I fell asleep when I got home. Talk to you tonight. I promise to answer this time.

  He responds immediately.

  Tanner: Did you have fun? How’s the asshole brother of mine?

  Me wanting to come to Tucker’s defense whenever Tanner rags on him is nothing new. He’s always calling him an asshole, fuckhead, dickwad, you name it. I get that people call each other names in jest. I get that friends often call each other asshole only to mean it in the best way possible. But there’s something different in the way Tanner means it.

  Tanner and Tucker are far from the ideal brothers. They’re constantly at one another’s throats and never agree about anything. Tanner hates that Tucker hasn’t—and I’m fully quoting him here—“done anything with his life.” But Tucker never—and I mean never—rags on his brother behind his back like Tanner does. Hell, apparently each time Tanner has come home on leave, Tucker has opened his apartment up to him, and Tanner takes advantage of it.

  I think Tucker resents Tanner for joining the military, but I have no idea what Tanner’s problem with Tucker is. Either way, it’s a shit-cycle of douchebaggery between the two, and the situation irritates me to no end because although I don’t have siblings, I have Rae and Perry. And I would never treat them that way. Ever.

  I text him back, deciding to ignore his last comment.

  Me: It was a blast. I definitely needed a night out.

  Tanner: That’s good. Gotta run, babe. I’ll call later.

  After finally stripping off my clothes from last night and getting a shower, I walk into the kitchen to find Kassi packing her lunch for her shift at the hospital.

  “Hey, kiddo. How was last night?”

  “It was…good.”

  “Yeah? You don’t seem too sure about that,” she observes.

  “No, really, it was.” I briefly consider not telling her about how bizarre Tucker was about the suit but decide to do so anyway. “Hey, Kas?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you think it’s unusual for a person to be insanely talented and push away all the offers they get to take that talent and share it with the world?” I ask.

  She observes me thoughtfully, clearly thinking hard about it. Then she shakes her head and says, “No.”

  My shoulders deflate a bit because I was hoping for more. “Care to elaborate?”

  She sets her lunch box down and leans against the counter, giving me her full attention now.

  “People don’t always have to have fame to know they’re good.”

  True. “But what if they want fame?”

  Because I think Tucker may. Well, not necessarily fame, but I think he does want to be doing this every day.

  “Sometimes people want things so much that they push them away because they’re afraid of failure. Do you think that’s the case with this particular person?” she questions.

  Is it? “I think so. Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that I want to help him. I want him to realize how incredible he is. I want the world to appreciate how incredible he is. He says he can’t right now, but I honestly don’t understand why. Everything in his life seems so simple and straightforward.”

  Kassi doesn’t say anything as she smashes her sandwich together and loads up her lunch box or as she fills her coffee cup. She doesn’t even say anything as she hoists her bags on her shoulders and grabs her car keys off the counter.

  Then, finally, she turns and pins me with her dark blue stare. “Things aren’t always what they appear to be, Maura. You know that better than anyone.”

  “What time do you get off tonight?”

  I jump at the sound of Tucker’s voice and spin around to get a look at him. He’s in his usual attire of jeans and a t-shirt with an open flannel over it, so I know him being here can’t be for a special occasion.

  I squint at him. “Why?”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Kinda wanted to show you something.”

  Show me something? “Like?”

  “Part of the reason I don’t ever take those business cards.”

  “I thought it wasn’t your story,” I say suspiciously.

  “It’s not. But this is only one part of it. It’s a two-parter. Only one is up for grabs tonight,” he tells me, rocking back on his heels once. Then a small smile forms. “Plus, you’re apparently my manager, so I figured you had the right to know.”

  I laugh at this. “Do you have a manager?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah. Never needed one. But feel free to keep pretending. You’re a natural.”

  “Are you gonna pay me if I do?”

  “Not a chance,” he says on a chuckle. “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Is it a date? Tonight after work?”

  My heart rate picks up at the mention of a ‘date,’ and I’m not sure why.

  Either way, it shouldn’t.

  “Not a ‘date,’ but yes. I get off at eleven. Is that cool?” I ask.

  He gives me a full smile now. “Yep.”

  I turn around and start clearing off the table, assuming our conversation is over. But I assume incorrectly.

  “You okay with me staying here? Or is that too stalkerish?”

  I want to laugh at his not-so-subtle reminder of my bitch attack the other day, but I don’t. Because having him stay here for the next two hours makes me nervous as hell.

  And again, it shouldn’t.

  But I find myself nodding an affirmative anyway.

  “Cool. I’ll be over there.”

  I turn to see where he heads off to and quickly move toward him, placing my hand on his arm. He turns at my touch, coming mere inches from bumping into me. He looks down to where I’m touching him and then back up at me. I notice how different his eyes are. Darker, deeper, and somehow more beautiful.

  Removing my hand, I take a step back.

  “Um, you don’t want to sit over there. Clarissa’s working tonight,” I tell him quietly.

  Clarissa is…well, she’s a bitch. For no reason. She’s mean and spiteful. And she’s a huge flirt. Like going home with a different guy each night and sometimes not making it out of the parking lot. Okay, so she’s m
ore than a flirt, but I’m not into talking trash about people.

  Last year when I met Tanner, Tucker, and the gang, Clarissa would not shut the hell up about them. She would constantly go on and on about how hot they all were and how they all wanted to “fuck her so bad” each chance she got. She’d occasionally include Hudson in this little spiel of hers when she knew Rae was into him. But she didn’t care. Each time the guys came in we’d have to secretly divert her attention so she wouldn’t end up with their table since there aren’t sections here at Clyde’s. It’s all first come, first serve. And that’s crap news when you work with a horndog like Clarissa.

  Tucker visibly shudders because I’ve more than once heard her “offer” herself to him. And I’ve heard him refuse her each time. Can’t say that it didn’t make me happy.

  “Ick. Thanks for the warning. Can I take the table you’re clearing off, then?”

  Odd, because he could sit at the bar, but I don’t see him offering up that option.

  “Sure. Let me grab the last few things and wipe it down. Go ahead and claim it, but don’t touch anything yet.”

  I speed walk past him to the bar, grabbing a dish tub to dump the dirty ones in and a rag to wipe down the filthy table.

  When I get back, Perry is sitting with Tucker.

  “Per Bear,” I say happily.

  “Hey, Maurie. Hope you don’t mind if I sit here with Tuck.”

  “Me mind you, Perry? Never,” I tell him, throwing a grin his way.

  I feel Tucker’s eyes on me, and I grab the few remaining dishes and clean up the mess made by the table’s previous occupants.

  Perry’s already scoping the place out for potential “friends” as he calls them.

  “What can I get you boys?” I ask.

  “I’ll have a Coke.”

  “Put Jack in mine,” Perry answers.

  I want to frown at this because as happy as I am to see Perry, I think he’s starting to develop a bit of a problem. With drinking. And his friends. And partying. It’s annoying and disconcerting all in one.

  Lately he’s been visiting Clyde’s more and more. That part is okay though. Perry is the last person who needs to be all wrapped up in himself all the time. He has a not-so-pretty history with depression.