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Tillie looks around before bringing her gaze back to me. “Ryder, we're attracting attention,” she chastises.
“Good. They can hear you answer me.”
“Answer you? What are you talking about?”
“Do you or do you not want a future with me?”
She jerks in reaction. “What?”
“I asked if you wanted a future with me and I expect you to answer.”
“Is this really the place to be talking about this Ryder?” she huffs.
“You’re sitting there questioning me, so yeah, Tillie, I think it’s the perfect place.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“I do.”
My head jerks over to see Dakota and Billy Simpson—a guy we all went to school with, standing by the entrance. It wasn’t them talking, however. That would be Tucker who is with them but standing closer just a few feet away from mine and Tillie’s table.
“Tucker,” Tillie whispers and I see the regret and pain on her face, and it tears at me.Son of a bitch, does she have feelings for my brother?
“Answer Ryder’s question, Tillie,” he says softly.
My body tenses. I don’t want to let it all play out here like this, but I can’t stop it. I need to know how she truly feels. Fuck, I need my brother to know, too. It’s not fair to Tillie, but this is what we have, and it needs to be said.
“Tucker, not here.”
“Here’s where we are, Tillie. I like you. You know that.”
“I like you, too,” she responds, and I growl under my breath.
She doesn’t miss the sound and she closes her eyes.
“It’s still him, isn’t it?” Tucker asks, but I can see the look on his face. It’s over. It will be awkward between us for a bit, but it will be okay.It will have to be.
Tillie’s eyes open and there are tears shining in them. “Even if Ryder and I don’t work out, it couldn’t be you, Tucker. You’re his brother.”
“Buttons, you need to think about what you say next because I’m about to make your ass pink right here, right now.”
“Ryder—”
“Weareworking out. You got shit in your head and I understand why you feel that way, I do.”
“Ryder—”
“It needs to stop. I’m tired of getting two steps into our future and you going back one.”
“I’m not going back,” she argues. “Unless you count that I’d like to hit you over the head with a coffee pot.”
“Here you go, Tillie,” Brenda says, the manager of the diner. She steps up to reach out an old metal coffee pot like the waitresses use to refill customer’s cups. Well, fuck, it appears Brenda is not my number one fan.
“Uh… No thanks.”
“You sure, honey? Men need their heads adjusted sometimes. Lord knows, my Frank needs it from time to time.”
“Uh, yeah, Brenda, I’m sure. I kind of like him when he’s not being an idiot. I don’t want to take a chance of damaging the few brain cells he has working.”
