She glances at me, something softer in her expression now, but still edged with that protective awareness. “I know so,” she says simply. Her gaze drifts back to the doors, then returns to me, more serious this time. “But don’t make him guess, Maria.”
I swallow. “About what?” I ask, even though I already know.
“About where he stands with you.” A pause. “He’s spent a lot of his life trying to earn his place.” Her voice lowers slightly, and I sense there’s a warning in her words, something unspoken from his past. I consider all the things I don’t know, all the things he’s never told me. “He shouldn’t have to do that with you too.”
My throat tightens. Because she’s not accusing me. She’s trusting me. “I’m not going to hurt him,” I say quietly.
Kate studies me for a long moment, then she nods. “I believe you,” she says. Another beat. “But make sure he knows that.”
The arena doors swing open and the crowd surges forward.
And I look at Kate, and let her words sink in. Honestly, I never did tell him what I wanted after winning that game of pool. Maybe instead of words, I’ll show him. As a plan begins to form, a little bubble of excitement wells up inside of me because I think I know just what to do to make sure Tuck knows where I stand. But despite my excitement, a hint of worry creeps in around the edges because there’s always a chance it could backfire.
25
Tuck
As I help Noah with his fence, I check the time on my phone again. Josh’s game doesn’t start for another two hours. Plenty of time. More than enough to get this fence done and get there before puck drop. It’s a big game, and he’s counting on me being there and I don’t plan to ever miss anything that matters.
Out past the trees, the sun is slipping lower, dragging streaks of orange and gold across the sky. It’s calm out here. Quiet. The kind of evening that makes you slow down. Beside us, Noah’s floodlight hums to life.
“Hold this here,” he says, setting a two-by-four on the table saw.
I grip the wood steady while the blade whines to life, chewing through it in a spray of sawdust. The sharp scent of fresh-cut pine fills the air. A bark explodes from inside the cottage, breaking the rhythm.
“Sorry,” Brighton calls. “She couldn’t stand being inside any longer.”
A second later, their Bernese Mountain dog Mabel barrels toward us. I barely have time to brace myself before she’s on me.
“Hey,” I laugh, bending just in time to take a full swipe of slobbery tongue across my face. “That’s a hell of a welcome.”
Her tail thumps against my leg as I rub behind her ears, her whole body vibrating with joy.
“You see what we’re doing here?” I murmur to her. “Fixing this fence so you don’t go wandering off again.”
“She’s in love with the neighbor’s cat,” Noah says, amused.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Thought dogs were supposed to hate cats. That’s what Elena basically said when I suggested Marbles live here at the cottage.”
“Not this girl. She loves cats and birds.”
“Then maybe I should’ve brought Marbles and introduced the two.” I say, scratching Mabel’s neck. “Though he’s an indoor cat and this big girl likely would have scared him off.”
“Mabel and Marbles,” Noah snorts, shaking his head as he fits the board into place. I grab the hammer, driving nails in one after another.
I test the board with a firm tug. “Good and sturdy.”
“Do you guys need anything? I’ve got iced tea,” Brighton calls.
“I’m good,” I answer, but my voice comes out quieter than I expect. Because I’m not. Not really. Something must show on my face, because when I glance up, Noah’s watching me differently now. Head tilted. Eyes sharper. Like he’s seeing past the surface.
“I’m a lucky guy,” he says.
I follow his gaze toward the house, toward the warm glow in the windows, the happiness inside it.
“You are,” I agree. “Great wife. Two amazing kids. A giant dog who thinks she’s a lapdog.” I force a smile. “And a captain who moonlights as a carpenter. What more could a guy ask for?”
“Sounds like something you’ve been thinking about.”
