Page 95 of Playing With Love

It was Tucker’s turn to go solid.

“What’s just you?”

“He doesn’t talk to my mom like that. He loves her.”

“That’s jacked.”

“Maybe, but that’s the way it is.”

“No, Lizzy, that’s fucked up. No maybe about it.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, it was fucked up, as was their whole relationship.

“It’s strange because sometimes he openly loves her, he’s attentive, they go on trips and date nights, and he parades her around to work events and such. He does nice things for her.” As I was speaking something hit me, something so obvious I couldn’t believe I’d never seen it before. “But it’s all on his schedule. As long as showing her love and attention doesn’t interfere with work or a trip he wants to take without her. He shows up to the parties they’re invited to but only the ones he wants to. He likes her to get dressed up and to take her to a fancy dinner but only to places where he knows they’ll be seen by people who matter to him. It’s always about him. His time. His conditions. His needs. I always thought it was me, I was the burden. The drain on his time he couldn’t be bothered with. But now I’m thinking it’s anyone and anything that doesn’t fit his agenda is the problem. Everything revolves around him with no consideration to anyone else.”

Tucker shifted, taking me with him so I was on my back and he was balanced above me. And there in the darkened room, in the mountains of Tennessee, he gave me something that was more beautiful than all the other beautiful gestures he’d gifted me.

“It’s not about you. It was never about you. It’s human nature to want it to be about us even if it’s ugly and harmful. We want to matter, and if the neglect isn’t our fault where does that leave us? So we lean into that and make it about us. Something is better than nothing, something means we’re not meaningless. It’s about him being selfish and not caring about anyone but himself. That doesn’t make you unworthy or unlovable, that makes him incapable of giving those things. And mark this, baby, what is insignificant to him, is my everything. You’re everything. You’re important, relevant, loved. You’re beautiful and smart and kind. He didn’t make you those things. He didn’t guide and teach you. You’re just you and became that on your own. That’s not strong, baby, that’s miraculous.

“Now you see him for who he is. You said it yourself, it’s all about him and his schedule. So the last thing I want to point out is love isn’t something you clock in and out of. You’re in or you’re out. And, Lizzy, your dad never checked in, not with you and not with your mom. That’s not love, at least not a love that’s healthy.”

“I know it’s not.”

“Good. So you need to know I’m checked in. I wasn’t taught what love is by watching my parents. I got no guidance from them. But you sure as hell taught me and⁠—”

“I taught you?”

How was that possible? Tucker was right; no one showed me how to love, not by example and not by word.

Tucker lowered himself down, giving me more of his weight. That small signal of trapping me under him brought back my guilt. He was worried I’d try to escape.

“Tucker—”

“I need you to listen to me, Lizzy.”

Oh yeah, he thought I was retreating.

“I will, but please roll off.”

The tightness in his frame made my shame intensify.

“Please trust me,” I whispered.

Slowly, Tucker rolled back to our earlier position. As soon as his back hit the sheets I scrambled on top of him and planted my knees on either side of his hips. It might’ve been silly but I needed him to know whatever he had to say would likely scare the pants off me but I wasn’t going to physically run away. I wasn’t going to retreat into my head and lock him out.

He’d never lied to me—I’d lied to him.

He’d never broken my trust—I’d broken his.

He’d given me too much—and I hadn’t given enough.

So it was silly, but I didn’t want him pinning me down, using his big body like a shield to protect me from something that was terrifying.

“Now you can tell me,” I prompted.

I felt Tucker relax. I really wished there was more than just the moonlight filtering in through the sheer curtains because while I couldn’t see it, I suspected his features went soft, and seeing Tucker’s eyes gentle on me was one of my most favorite looks—second only to when his gaze turned heated and hungry. The first, I’d seen a lot over the years, the second, regrettably only a handful.

“You know how jacked up my parents’ marriage is,” he started and I nodded. “So you know living in that, I wasn’t shown much beyond dysfunction and how to abuse someone’s love for you. I wanted no part of having a relationship with a woman. I didn’t want commitment. I didn’t want love. I didn’t want anything I could turn toxic like he did.