22
Maria
I ease Tuck’s bedroom door open, careful not to let it creak, and slip out into the hallway on quiet feet. The house is still wrapped in that early-morning hush, and I take a moment to bask in it. The boys’ alarms haven’t gone off yet, so it’s the perfect time for me to slip out of Tuck’s room. He offered to get up early, said he’d keep them busy, give me a break—but I shook my head. They’re my responsibility. They always have been.
And yet…he’s been carrying so much of it lately.
Driving them where they need to go. Sitting at the table helping with homework. Showing up in ways I never asked him to—but that he gives anyway.
My chest tightens a little at the thought as I make my way down the stairs. My car should be ready any day now. Things will go back to normal. Too bad that’s not what I want anymore.
I’ve heard from Declan a few times—kind messages, easy conversation. He’s a good man. A safe one. The kind of man I should want. But I haven’t said yes to another date. Because no matter how I try to reason it out, being with Tuck while trying to build something with someone else feels wrong.
So I’ve left it where it is. For now.
At the bottom of the stairs, I slow, my gaze drifting over the walls. Still bare. Still waiting. I trail my fingers along them as I move toward the kitchen, my mind already filling in the blanks—photos, frames, bits of life. Pieces of him. Pieces of…us.
I’ve already started, quietly, carefully compiling things. I’d almost gotten caught a few days ago when he walked into the kitchen but I was able to hide my surprises in my laptop bag. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m overstepping.
He’s done so much for us. I want to give something back. Even if it’s something small. Even if it’s just…making this place feel like a home. If there’s one thing I know about Tuck, is that he loves his family, and misses home.
I slip a pod into the coffee maker, press the button, and then drift toward the big patio window. The world outside is muted in soft greys and browns. The wind moves through the trees, tugging the last stubborn leaves free, sending them skittering across the yard.
My breath catches when my eyes land on the stack of plywood, the boards, the tarps. Everything they’d need for a backyard rink. I wrap my arms around myself, holding in the sudden swell of something warm and aching all at once. We’ve settled into this space so easily, so naturally. Like we belong here.
Like we belong…together.
Soon the house will be loud—footsteps pounding, voices calling, chaos in the best way. And while I like these quiet moments, I love the loud ones too. I’m just starting to sink into that feeling when I hear the faint sound of footsteps behind me. I don’t even get the chance to turn before warmth presses in at my back.
“Tuck—”
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, his mouth just near my ear.
A shiver slips down my spine. “What are you doing up?” I ask softly.
One solid arm slides around me pulling me back against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Bed got cold,” he says, his voice low, teasing, but there’s something real tucked inside it. “Fast.”
His breath brushes over my ear and I can’t help the small tremor that runs through me. My hands come up, covering his where they rest on my stomach.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. Slow. Lingering.
“Come back to bed,” he murmurs.
For a second—just one—I let myself imagine it. Slipping back under the covers with him. Letting the morning wait.
I exhale softly. “You know I can’t. The boys will be up soon.” I hesitate. “And I think Josh might be starting to suspect something.”
“Right.”
It’s the way he says it that makes me turn. There’s something there—something quieter.
“What?” I search his face, catching the faint lines around his eyes as they narrow slightly, like he’s working through something.
“It’s just?—”
A small, indignant meow cuts him off. We both glance down as a tiny blur appears at our feet.
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Marbles? How did you get out?” He crouches, scooping the kitten up with surprising ease. “We should’ve named you Houdini.”
