“Well, I can’t wait to meet Marbles. I think having a pet will be good for you.”
“It’s sort of…not really my pet,” I mumble.
“Uh…who’s pet is it then?”
Shit. Why did I say that?
“It’s just…remember that woman I was telling you about?” I lower my voice. “The one who wants to be a lawyer?”
“Right…your friend. Does this friend have a name?”
“My friend’s name is Maria. Anyway, her place is small, and her two boys need me to shelter Marbles until they get a bigger place.”
“She has two boys?” There’s a hint of worry in her voice and I get it. She knows pain, knows heartache, knows what I’ve been through, what I vowed never to go through again.
“Teenagers,” I clarify.
“That’s very generous of you,” she says softly, and I hear the worry in her voice through the phone.
“It’s only temporary,” I add quickly.
Just like everything else with Maria.
There’s silence on the line. I can feel her waiting, reading between my words. So I blurt it out, “I…uh…know what I’m getting into.”
Do I, though? Do I really?
14
Maria
I peel my eyes open slowly, warm light spilling across the room as the morning sun slips through the curtains in long, golden stripes. For a second, I forget where I am—until the faint scent of laundry soap and something distinctly Tuck settles around me.
A soft smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it. I can’t believe we stayed again. The thought lingers as last night plays back in flashes—the game on his massive TV, the boys sprawled out, shouting at bad calls. The easy comfort of it. The way it felt…normal. Like something I could get used to far too quickly.
Heat curls low in my stomach as I stretch, my muscles protesting just enough to remind me why they’re sore. My grin widens. God…the things I’ve done with Tuck.
The things I want to do again.
A quiet murmur drifts through the wall, pulling me back. I tilt my head, listening. Whispered voices, soft, careful. Josh, I’d bet anything, talking to Marbles like the kitten understands every word. They’ve been taking turns with him, completely devoted. One night with Josh, one with Lucas.
It does something to my chest I don’t quite want to name. I kick off the covers and push myself upright, padding over to the window. When I pull the curtains wide, the backyard stretches out in front of me. Huge, open, empty. Too empty. The kind of space that feels like it’s waiting for something. Or someone.
A strange ache presses against my ribs. Why doesn’t Tuck have a family of his own? Why buy a house this big if you’re not planning to fill it with…life? But that is not my business so I shove it away.
I turn from the window and pull open the dresser, grabbing a fresh pair of pants, a shirt, and the rest of what I need. Living out of a bag makes me twitchy, so I’ve already started claiming space, just a drawer, nothing more. Temporary.
Everything about this is temporary.
My gaze catches on the childhood photo of Tuck again, and I pause. I pick it up before I can stop myself, glancing over my shoulder even though I know he’s not here. He’s on the road. Hours away.
Still…this feels like crossing a line. My thumb brushes lightly over the edge of the picture anyway. There’s something about seeing him little like this, before life turned him into the man I know now.
Across the hall, a door creaks open. I jump slightly and set the picture back, but not before a spark of an idea flashes through my mind. Footsteps thunder down the stairs, breaking the quiet, and I step out into the hallway. The sound of the shower running drifts from the bathroom, steam curling under the door. Josh. Of course. He doesn’t do anything before showering in the morning.
I hesitate, shifting the clothes in my arms, debating whether to wait, but Josh’s showers are legendary. If I wait too long, the boys will be late. I’ll be late.
Which leaves one option.
