At least with Tuck, I quickly learned who he is, what he wants, and more importantly, what he doesn’t want. And that’s a ready-made family.
How do I know?
Sure, he’ll help when needed. Show up to family skate. Give the boys a ride home. Maybe toss a puck or two their way. But anything beyond that is out of the question. I learned that the night after…well, you know…when he strolled back into the kitchen the next day, confident, casual, probably expecting a repeat of the previous night.
And while I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t want it too, I had Josh’s high school hockey game to attend. I invited him along, thinking he might enjoy it, considering he’s in the NHL and all. His reaction was instantaneous—a sharp, fast “no”, and the pale flash across his face hit me like the cold slap I needed. The word no was followed by, “I’m not looking for more…a family.”
It was the moment we both understood. What had barely begun was over. And it wasn’t just about desire—it was about boundaries, about the lives tangled in ours, about what I owed my children.
My life isn’t just mine anymore. Every decision is filtered through the lens of my sons’ well-being. Sure, I’d like to love again, maybe even marry. But it has to be with a man willing to take the boys under his wing, someone they can look up to and learn from.
Tuck isn’t that man.
He can only ever be temporary. A thrill. A lesson in what can’t work. Because I’ve been burned, duped by an unfaithful husband who wanted more on the side. Not chancing that again.
I glance past his shoulders, half-expecting to see Mom and Grant come up the stairs behind him. Wait, why is Tuck even here? “Where?—”
“Your mom wasn’t feeling well,” he explains, voice low and measured. Heck, maybe he’s not as in control as he appears. “Grant took her home and asked if I could give the boys a lift.”
“Oh…is she okay?”
“She was pale, and she wanted me to tell you she was sorry she couldn’t make tea.” A beat passes, and he shifts from one foot to the other, just slightly…nervous. Then, “She told me to give you a hug from her.”
An unwanted wave of heat moves through me. “A…hug?”
He gives an awkward laugh. “I think she just meant to say hello.” His arms spread a little. “I mean, unless you want a hug.” His eyes go wide, like he’s suddenly questioning every word, every action, he’s uttered since stepping into my house.
“That’s grandma’s hug,” Josh calls out, reminding me he’s still in the kitchen, no doubt watching me salivate over Tuck. “You have to take it.” He gives me a little nudge, and pushes me off balance. I wobble and yelp, and fortunately—or unfortunately—Tuck is there in an instant, his big, strong arms catching me.
“There you go. Grandma will be happy,” Josh adds, like he’s oblivious to the tension crackling between us.
Or maybe he isn’t.
“You okay?” Dark eyes lock on mine.
“I…don’t know,” I answer honestly, feeling lightheaded.
Tuck pulls me in tighter. His head dips slightly, his lips brushing dangerously close to mine, and all at once my body remembers—the warmth, the scent, the way those lips had left me weak, trembling, aching. The memory of that night hits me like a spark across bare skin.
But no. This is Tuck. He’s not mine, and I’m not going to let myself forget that. We want different things. My boys—after everything, after their father’s selfish choices—need stability. And Tuck…he’s not that man.
Why do I have to keep reminding myself of that?
I push back gently from his embrace. “Thanks for the hug,” I say, trying to sound light but sure I’m failing. “I should give Mom a call and make sure she’s okay. Thanks for dropping the boys off.”
The kettle whistles, and Tuck looks like he’s about to leave as I hurry to the kitchen. But my hands are shaky as I turn off the burner and reach for the handle. Steam curls up and burns my palm. I yelp, jumping back, and of course, Tuck is there again, body so close that my heart is racing for reasons that have nothing to do with a burn.
“Are you okay?”
“I…yes,” I say, trying to steady my voice.
“No, you’re not. You have a steam burn.” Tenderness moves over his face. “Here, sit.”
“You okay?” Josh asks from the doorway, as he stuffs his face with a muffin.
Before I can answer, Tuck takes charge. “Josh,” he asks, switching into ‘Captain’ mode. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Yup.”
