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All the while, Tuck’s distance, his refusal to talk, fans the embers of my hurt into a full-blown fire of anger. I’m lonely. I’m scared. I want to give Tuck time to process everything that happened that night, but Katie and I need him. It’s not fair for him to check out like this.
By the second week of no talking, no sex, and no sense of any connection between Tuck and me at all, I snap.
We used to go to bed together at the same time every night. But lately, Tuck begs off by saying he wants to hit the gym to work off stress. I end up falling asleep alone. I wake up alone too. I’d wonder if Tuck even sleeps in our bed anymore if the sheets weren’t rumpled on his side of the mattress in the morning.
I’m grabbing a glass of water in the kitchen when Tuck comes upstairs from putting Katie down.
“Hey,” I say.
He glances at me and scratches the back of his head. “Hey. She went down fine.”
“She should be tired. We had a long day.”
I wait for him to ask about it. He doesn’t. Instead, he pops a cinnamon Altoid in his mouth, cracking it between his teeth as he starts going through the stack of mail on the counter.
“She pooped her pants. Twice.”
“Really?” He doesn’t look up from the envelope he’s opening.
I want to scream. At the same time, I want to mount him like a tree. For the first few months of dating, we didn’t go a single day without having sex, and now it’s been weeks. I’m horny as hell, and Tuck lookssogood.
He’s just in grey joggers and a matching tee, but he fills them out to perfection. His shirt is like a second skin, the fabric molded to the muscles in his shoulders and chest. His delicious ass is on full display, as is the shape of his dick. He’s also let his beard grow out a little bit, giving him a burly vibe I am very much here for.
I miss him so much it hurts.
I can’t stand it. I have to touch him.
Crossing the kitchen, I put my hand on his stomach. His muscles tense, forming a literal wall between us. He immediately goes still, eyes flicking to meet mine.
“I really wish you’d talk to me, Superman.”
He blinks. “Are you not feeling well?”
“I’m feeling fine. Great, actually. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”
He sighs. “It’s late. You’re tired. Why don’t you go to bed?—”
“I’m not going to bed. As a matter of fact, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He glances back down at the mail.
“Look me in the eye and say that.”
Silence.
I duck my head so I can meet his gaze. “You’ve gone radio silent since we left the hospital. I want you to tell me why. Right now, Tuck.”
He sighs again, dropping the mail. He runs a hand down his face. “Can we have this conversation in the morning? I’m beat.”
“No.”
Our eyes meet. The naked fear that suddenly appears in his makes alarm bells go off inside my head.
“Maren,” he says, then stops.
Keeping my hand on his stomach, I say, “Tell me. I miss you. I can’t stand not being with you.”
“You’re with me all the time.”
