“What about Logan? Still nothing between you two?”
I laugh. “No. Still just friends.”
“Friends to lovers maybe?” There’s hope in her eyes.
“We’ve been there. It didn’t quite work out. It’s the reason why I didn’t move in with him when he offered. We just would never make it work. It’s way too awkward. We are way better off as friends.”
Sadie’s brow pinches together. “Why did he ask you to move in with him?”
Oh shit. Did I say that? It just slipped out.
“Uh.” I cringe. “When I was evicted from my place with Adalyn.”
“You were evicted? Oh my God, why?”
Crap, this was not the conversation I wanted to have right now but knowing I won’t be able to get out of this, I go for it.
“Our landlord wasn’t paying the mortgage. The bank foreclosed on the property and gave us five days to pack up and find another place to live.”
“Oh my gosh. Where are you living now? Are you back in Whitney Point?”
Our hometown, where we grew up, where we have the most memories, and the most heartache. It’s about a half hour away from campus, an inconvenient commute especially for me with my schedule. Plus, I love my parents, but living with them again, no thank you. I would end up being forced into playing pinochle with them every Friday night with Roseanne Joanne—my mom’s hairdresser—as my partner. And I refuse to have RJ as a partner again; she thinks passing nines is funny.
“No, I’m not in Whitney Point. I’m actually,” I swallow hard and stare down at my coffee, “living with Tucker.”
Inwardly I cringe, unable to make eye contact with Sadie.
“Tucker? Tucker Jameson?”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod.
“Oh, how did that happen?”
I glance up at Sadie and take her in. She doesn’t seem mad, so I say, “I was at a bar with Logan and Adalyn, drinking my sorrows away about not being able to find a place when I saw Tucker. He was by himself so I went over to see how he was doing. We got to talking, well, Adalyn actually let her big mouth flap and mentioned my homelessness, which spurred Tucker into offering me a room in his house. It wasn’t my first option, it was my only option.” I quickly add, “I’m sorry if—”
“Why are you sorry? You needed a place to stay.”
“I don’t know.” Maybe because almost every waking minute of my days are spent daydreaming about your ex-boyfriend’s lips on mine. “Just seems a little weird since you and Tucker were together for so long.”
“Yeah, but there is nothing between us anymore. And we were all friends before Tucker and I became an item. I’m just glad you’re rooming with someone you know rather than a random stranger.”
“But . . .” I pause. “It’s in the house he bought for you.”
Sadie stares down at her coffee. “Yes, but that house was never my home, Em. It was a beautiful gesture, and maybe if I never miscarried, we would have made a lovely home out of it but that’s not how our future rolled out. I can’t think of the what-ifs with Tucker. But you know what, I can be grateful that he has a friend like you to lean on, someone to keep him company in that house.” As if she’s reaching into my soul, Sadie asks, “How’s he doing?”
How is Tucker doing? How do I even answer that question? He has his good days and bad days. He doesn’t seem to be fully over Sadie, but then again, there are moments of clarity and calm in his eyes that make me think the demons of his relationship with Sadie might be dissipating. How can he touch me, kiss me, hold me so fully if he’s still invested in Sadie? Is that possible? It’s so confusing.
I shrug, not really sure how to answer. “He seems to be doing okay.” He likes to kiss me a lot, and I want to climb him like a tree and meet his nine inches. Oh, and he looks really good in nothing but a pair of briefs, but that’s neither here nor there.
Sadie sighs and leans back in her seat. “I worry about him. Last time I spoke to him was when he showed me the house. He tried to give us one more chance but I had already moved on by then, my heart had already fallen for Andrew.” Sadie shakes her head. “All I want is for him to find peace, Em. Do you think he has?”
Peace? Ha, not even close. There is no peace in that man, only anguish, maybe a little bit of playfulness, and a whole bunch of pent-up frustration.
I can’t help but wonder what he would be like full of peace. Full of happiness. How different would he be? I feel I’ve seen glimpses. When he’s completely focused on me and waiting for my reaction, especially when he teases me. It’s hard to imagine, and yet, I want to be the girl who helps him find peace, who helps ease the heartache from his soul, the girl who helps turn his house into a home.
And that realization hits me hard, right in the heart. I want him to meet me at the side door with that smile on his face. The one that stole my breath as if my arrival home was the best thing that had happened in his day.
“Uh, I don’t think so,” I answer honestly. “But I’m trying to help.”
“Glad you’re there, Em. He needs a friend to pull him out of the darkness.”
A friend; why does that word feel like acid on my ears?
Maybe because I don’t want to be his friend.
Maybe because I want to fuck him in every room of his house.
Maybe because I want breakfasts, weekends, and happiness . . . with him.
Maybe because I want so much more.
Chapter Sixteen
TUCKER
“Come on, man. It’s the one Sunday I have off,” Racer complains into the phone. “I don’t get many days off and when I do, I want to get wasted with my friends while watching hockey and eating fucking Little Debbie oatmeal patties by the box. Is that too much to ask?”
I button up my jeans and feel them hang off my hips but not enough that require a belt. Shirtless, I bend at the waste and lace up my brown boots.
“Sorry, Racer. I have plans with Emma.” I really have no idea if she’s available, but I planned a day for us and I’m hoping she’ll put the books down for a day and join me. I’m not ashamed to use my body as a weapon against her, hence the reason I’m waiting to put my shirt on. I think asking her shirtless will better my chances. Is it wrong? Yes, on all levels, but am I desperate to get out of this house with her and spend some time together? More than anything.
“Of course you have plans with Emma. When did you two start dating?” His tone is snide. I don’t blame him. He really doesn’t get many days off, and we’ve often spent them together, so I can understand his frustration. But there is always Smalls.
“We’re not dating. We’re just . . .” What are we? On the verge of sexual combustion? Pretty much. At times I wonder why I’m holding back. I just, whenever I go near her bedroom, I can’t help but look at the room opposite hers and think about what I lost. And I really don’t want to bring Emma into my bedroom when I still have Sadie on my mind; it wouldn’t be fair to her, but hasn’t prevented me from touching and kissing her every chance I get. But is that fair?