Chapter Twenty
A week later, Tucker was suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms. He hadn’t seen or heard from Della. She hadn’t come into Jack’s. His phone had recorded no calls from her, and their text stream had stopped.
He knew it was for the best, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like crap over their argument in the parking lot and that Della thought she was some dirty secret to him. Sure, they’d kept their relationship on the down low, not because he’d been ashamed of being with her but because their secrecy gave them a level of freedom. Time alone without scrutiny to play and explore, and yes, that included Arlo’s scrutiny.
Time without the constant whispers and speculation around town pressuring them to be something Della wasn’t after and the absence of pitying looks and well-meaning comments when they’d called it quits.
Which she’d wanted, too.
Secondary to that crappiness was more crappiness over matchmaking Della and Bo. The thought of them together was like ants marching under his skin, and he wanted to peel the flesh from his bones to stop the torture. The only thing keeping him from utter despair was knowing Della was better off with someone like Bo.
Sure, it was just a date. But if things developed further and she decided she did want more, then she’d be hard-pressed to find someone better. The younger guy was an absolute go-getter with a bright career and big plans. She could travel all around the country with him and have the life she’d probably never dreamed possible three years ago. And Della had obviously been comfortable with him, laughing and chatting like she’d known him forever.
Most importantly, there’d been none of that manwhore, a-new-woman-in-every-town professional bull rider crap about him. Tucker could sniff that shit out in a blink. So could Arlo.
Nope…Bo Forbes seemed like a really good guy.
And Tucker really, really hated him.
But it didn’t matter how Tucker felt. Nor did it matter that he loved her. He’d been in love with Della for a long time, and it hadn’t killed him yet. There were a lot of things he’d wanted in life that he couldn’t have—that Tony Hawk skateboard being one—and that was just the way it worked.
And sometimes, love meant sacrifice. It meant putting someone else’s interests, their happiness, their future, ahead of your own.
He hadn’t realized how hard it was going to be to stay away from her, though. How entrenched visiting her every night had become. How much he enjoyed skulking down the streets from Jack’s to her place. How he counted down the hours and minutes, even looking forward to his nightly visits to Mrs. Doyle’s house to drop off her hush money—or hush pie, as was often the case.
And how antsy he became if anything delayed his departure from Jack’s. Because putting his hands on Della again after a day apart was the best feeling in the world.
And it wasn’t about sex. Sure, the sex was amazing—even more so since he’d taken his foot off the brakes and handed over the wheel to her—but his visits were about more than that.
They were about a deeper connection.
About the way her face lit up when he came through the door. The way they talked—in and out of bed—about the simple, everyday things in life, like the bees in her garden and his pickup needing new tires. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching. Her joy in her house and the way she loved Jolene and adored Betty.
Put simply, seeing her every night was like refilling his well. Della filled his well.
Which meant he’d been a prize idiot to not realize he was in love with her a long time ago, because the truth was, she’d been refilling his well for a long time. Since those early days, sitting at his bar. He’d looked forward to her coming every night, to the fragile connection they’d forged through brief, stilted conversations and piña coladas.
And now here they were. Ex-lovers.
When he’d pictured how this would end—and there’d never been any doubt in his mind it would—he’d seen a kind of mutual agreement. A happy parting of ways where they both acknowledged it was time to move on and slipped back into their friendship. Maybe they’d shake hands. Or make love one last time.
Yes. Make love, damn it.
That hadn’t happened. Instead, he’d said a bunch of stuff he hadn’t meant, because otherwise he’d have told her he loved her, and that wasn’t the way to sever things…
She was going on a date with Bo, which he’d engineered. That was a good thing.
But it meant they couldn’t be a couple any longer—not even a secret couple—so there was no point taking a step backward by trying to hold on. They were over.
And yes, she’d been ticked about it because she thought she wasn’t ready and she wanted to be the one to decide. But he wouldn’t be doing her any favors by becoming another crutch to her. So he’d pushed. And if that had made her mad enough to remember why they’d started this thing in the first place, then good.
“You keep playing like this and that pile of quarters ain’t going to last long.”
Tucker glanced over the top of his cards to eye Arlo. Sitting around from him at the table was Drew. It was a rare Saturday night they could get together, but Drew had informed Tucker that he needed not to be at Jack’s—or home alone—tonight, and frankly he’d been too damn morose to care.
Drew had arranged for Bryce to take over the bar and harassed Arlo about truly taking a night off by handing his pager over to his deputy and hosting a poker game. A proper one with six-pack beer and crap frozen pizza cooked in the oven. Arlo used to host a regular poker night, but then Della had come to stay and it had stopped.
Drew had suggested his place, initially, then changed his mind. Apparently, Tucker was funereal enough without playing poker next to a room full of coffins.
Ultimately, the location didn’t matter as long as it wasn’t Jack’s. Drew was right—he couldn’t have stood on the other side of the bar and watched Bo make goo-goo eyes at Della all night. Or vice versa. So being anywhere but Jack’s was a smart move.
Didn’t stop him from playing shit poker, though.
“Maybe if the dealer wasn’t so god-awful,” Tucker growled as he tossed his nine-high collection of crap into the discard pile, “I’d get a decent hand.”
“Nothing wrong with my hands,” Arlo said calmly.
Tucker snorted. “How convenient.”
Arlo had always been a card shark. He knew all those fancy shuffling tricks and had played a lot of very serious poker during the year he’d been mad as hell and convalescing from his injury. At one point, Arlo had announced his intention to move to Vegas, until Tucker had persuaded him to come home to Credence instead.
Tucker should have let him go to wallow in his misery and lose all his money. It would have saved him this ass-kicking.
Arlo glanced at Drew. “Did he just accuse the chief of po-lice of cheating at poker?” he asked mildly.
Drew, who was sucking on a toothpick, responded just as mildly. “I believe he did.”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “What? You going to throw me in jail for telling the truth?”
“Nah. I’m thinking…” He quirked an eyebrow at Drew. “Shoving his head down the john?”
“It’d sure help him get it out of his ass,” Drew drawled.
Arlo and Drew laughed. Tucker flipped them the bird. “Fuck you both.”
“What bug crawled up your butt tonight?” Arlo asked when he finally stopped laughing.
“I’m fine. Jesus. Can I just have five fucking cards, please?”
The evening didn’t really get any better. Arlo and Drew delighted in Tucker’s losses as they slowly sent him bankrupt. Not that he cared much or that his mind was even on the game. His thoughts kept drifting to Della and Bo’s date. Had she enjoyed it? Was it a success? Was it over yet, or were they going to party on at Jack’s until close? Had she taken him back to her place for some coffee? Would she?
Would he try and kiss her? Hell, why wouldn’t he try and kiss her? And who was he fucking kidding? She’d probably made the first move. He wasn’t messing around when he said she was an A-plus student. Della had gotten bold.
That thought made him burn his finger on the tray of garlic bread he’d just removed from the oven, and he dropped it. The bread landed butter side down—of course. “Shit.” He kicked the nearest cupboard door out of pure frustration and watched in dismay as it fell off, landing on the floor on top of the garlic-bread mess.
God fucking damn it.
Arlo and Drew swaggered unhurriedly into the kitchen with their bottles of Bud. Leaning their asses against the closest countertop, they surveyed the damage. “What’d the door ever do to you?” Arlo inquired.
Tucker didn’t bother to answer. He just picked it up, set it against the nearest cupboard, and scooped the bread off the floor, dumping it on the plate he’d already put out on the counter.
“Thirty-second rule,” he said, shoving it at Drew’s chest.
Next he grabbed the oven tray off the floor, cursing as it burned him again, automatically tossing it in the direction of the sink, where it landed with a metallic clang. “Christ, does everything in your kitchen want to kill me?” Tucker demanded, glaring at Arlo as he shoved his burnt finger in his mouth.
Arlo side-eyed Drew, then took a long pull of his beer. “Okay…” He folded his arms. “How about you tell me what the fuck is going on with you?”
“I said I’m fine, damn it.”
“Mmm.” Arlo nodded. “Clearly.”
Tucker ignored both the comment and the sarcasm in it as he strode to the sink and turned on the faucet, shoving his finger beneath the stream of cool water. Relief was instant. It was only a tiny area, less than a pea, but it hurt like a bitch. Nobody said anything while the water ran, and Tucker was tempted to keep it under the stream all damn night, but eventually he flicked the faucet off and reached for a paper towel.
“At the risk of having my head bit off,” Arlo said after Tucker had finished drying up, “is it possible you might need to get laid?”
Drew made a strangled kind of noise in the back of his throat, and Tucker glared at him. Jesus, the last thing he needed was Arlo asking these kinds of questions.
“It’s been a while, by my calculations,” Arlo added.
The fact Arlo could calculate how long it had been for Tucker was clearly a sad indictment of his sex life. Except Arlo didn’t know he and Della had been taking care of the sex thing more than adequately. Nor was he going to. He and Della were over—they’d gotten away with it, as she’d so crudely pointed out. There was no need for Arlo to know.
“No,” he growled.
“Then what?” Arlo asked, clearly exasperated. “Are you having financial problems with the bar? Are you in some kind of legal trouble? Are you sick? Do you…I don’t know…have cancer?”
“What?” Tucker’s brows drew together. “Jesus, no. I told you I’m fine.”
“Yeah. Except—” Arlo put his beer down on the counter behind him with an ominously quiet tink. There was a hard note in his voice now, indicating the implacable chief of police had taken the con. “You’re not. Obviously. And now all my cop senses are pinging like crazy.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Tucker muttered under his breath.
“Dude, you know you can tell me, right?” Arlo straightened. “If you’re in any kind of trouble…if you’ve made some kind of mistake. We’ve been friends since I was three. Let me help you.”
A heavy sigh escaped Tucker’s mouth. He couldn’t believe where this was going. He opened his mouth to assure Arlo again, but it was Drew who spoke. “Enough now, Tucker,” he said, giving him a hard stare.
Tucker shook his head at the obvious message in Drew’s eyes. “No.”
“Dude, he thinks you’ve robbed a bank or have cancer.”
Arlo frowned, flicking his attention between Drew and Tucker before settling on Drew. “Okay? What’s going on here?”
Tucker held Drew’s gaze. “No.”
“Drew?” Arlo pushed, his frown deepening.
“It’s time,” Drew insisted.
Tucker regarded Drew for long moments, hating it when he was right. He loved Della, and while he couldn’t shout that to the world, he could at least be honest with his best friend. If it had been anybody else he’d fallen for, Arlo would have known since the beginning. Tucker wasn’t ashamed of what they’d done. She wasn’t his dirty secret, damn it.
And Arlo could fuck right off with his disapproving bullshit if that’s the way it played out. Taking a swallow of his beer, he turned to his best friend. “I’m in love with your sister. I’m not asking for your approval or your permission. I’m just stating the facts.”
Arlo’s swift intake of breath was loud as a hurricane, and Tucker’s gut dropped to his knees. Drew broke into a broad grin. “Attaboy. Doesn’t it feel better to get it off your chest? You’ll thank me for it one day.”
Tucker sincerely fucking doubted it right now. Arlo had gone very still, which was not good. Like a venomous snake poised to strike. His jaw clenched, the angle blanching a terrible, bloodless white.
“By in love do you mean a courtly kind of thing where you pick her flowers and write poems about her hair and if there happens to be a dragon around you’ll slay it for her, but otherwise it’s all very platonic and sweet and absolutely nothing at all whatsoever to do with getting naked together?”
Tucker shook his head. “No.” It may have been courtly to start with, but it was definitely the latter now, and goddamn it, this was his moment of truth.
“So…you’re sleeping with her?”
“Well, not anymore, no. It was more of a short-term arrangement. But…yes. I was.”
The knuckles on both of Arlo’s hands, which were gripping the counter, went white now, too. “You were sleeping with my sister.”
“Yes.”
“My sister, who has been through the psychological wringer and who I trusted you with?”
“Oh, quit being so fucking melodramatic,” Drew said. “Della’s a grown woman with her own agency who doesn’t need anyone’s protection anymore, and you know it.”
Arlo turned his laser focus on Drew. “And you’ve known about this for how long, exactly?”
Tucker, relieved to be out of Arlo’s crosshairs for a moment, sniggered at Drew, sending him a suck shit look.
Drew shrugged. “A few weeks.”
“And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning to me?”
“No. Because it’s none of your goddamn business who Della sleeps with, even if it is with this bozo.”
Arlo’s puffed up chest seemed to deflate at Drew’s home truth. “So when I asked you that day you were whistling whether you were getting laid or not, you lied to me?”
“No.” Tucker shook his head. “Technically we weren’t…we hadn’t—”
“Oh God.” Arlo slashed his hand through the air to halt Tucker. “Thanks. I get the picture.” He sucked in a breath. “When did this all happen?” he asked. “No, wait…how did this happen?”
“Well, when a boy and a girl like each other,” Drew explained with exaggerated patience, “sometimes they share a special hug.”
“Drew!” Arlo snapped. “Not the time.”
“It started with the whole…teaching her how to drive/wingman thing and kinda escalated from there. Like I said, it was just a temporary thing, to help her get her groove back. But—” Tucker paused for a moment, wondering if he should tell all. Tell the truth and get it all out. He and Arlo had been through a lot together, but could he handle this? He took a steadying breath. “Truth is, I’ve had feelings for Della for a very long time.”
Arlo shoved a hand through his hair. “How long?”
“This past year for sure. Probably longer than that, in reality. I don’t know if there was any one moment because I didn’t…let myself go there. It’s only been recently I’ve realized how much a part of my life she’s become. She’s the last person I think about when I go to sleep and the first person I think about when I wake up. I can’t remember a time when I’ve thought about myself not in relation to her.”
Tucker breathed slowly out. He wasn’t sure any of that had made sense. It sounded as jumbled coming out as it did swirling around in his brain.
“I love her, Arlo, and I’m sorry I snuck around behind your back, but I’m not sorry for being in love with your sister.”
“Well…fuck.”
“Yeah.” Tucker nodded. He couldn’t have put it better.
“Has she told Selena about you?” Arlo asked.
“Yes.”
“Really?” His face registered surprised before he continued. “Has she told anybody else?”
For a crazy moment, Tucker was wondering if Arlo was trying to ascertain a potential pool of witnesses who may testify against Arlo should Tucker mysteriously disappear. He seemed a little too calm. Drew had said that Arlo would be reasonable once he got over the shock, but this seemed too easy.
“She hasn’t told anyone else, no, but Rosemary Forbes knows something is going on. So do Molly and Marley and Ruth from her work. And Winona.”
Arlo grimaced. “Of course she does.”
Drew laughed at the long-suffering note in Arlo’s voice, but Tucker continued. “Also, Mrs. Doyle, who lives across the road from Della, definitely knows.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s been blackmailing me for weeks. There’s a couple dozen diner boxes and really expensive birdseed packets in her recycling to prove it.”
That surprised a laugh out of Arlo. “Good,” he said with a little too much satisfaction.
Tucker smiled, but it didn’t last long.
An odd kind of silence fell over the kitchen for long, drawn-out moments before Drew lightened the mood. “See? There you go,” he said, crossing the kitchen to give Tucker a slap on the back. “I told you you’d feel better.”
Better? A huge weight might have been lifted from his shoulders, but Tucker wasn’t sure he felt better. If anything, he felt worse, his gut tied in knots. Della was still out with Bo, and now Arlo knew he and Della had been sneaking around.
This night has been crappy enough without that particular revelation.
“Screw you, Drew,” Tucker said. “I’m going to make sure my next of kin know that when I die they’re supposed to get my coffin from Costco and use that budget funeral chain from Denver.”
Drew slapped him on the back again. “Good luck fitting into one of those things, buddy,” he said with a laugh before glancing across at Arlo. “So…I take it if you were going to shoot him, you’d have done it by now.”
Arlo grunted. “Yep.”
“Right, then, so can we agree that Tucker should at least tell your sister how he feels and see if she might feel the same?”
Tucker frowned. What? “No. We’ve gone our separate ways, as per our original agreement. She’s out on a date with Bo Forbes, who’s a really good guy who likes her. I’m not going to mess that up.”
“That’s bullshit,” Arlo said. “Bo Forbes may well be a good guy, but he’s not better than you. You’re the best goddamn guy I know.”
“Hey,” Drew protested.
“One of the best goddamn guys I know,” Arlo corrected.
“Thank you.” Drew nodded.
“And Della deserves the best.”
Tucker blinked, humbled by his friend’s praise, and for a beat or two he let himself believe that he and Della were a possibility.
“Arlo. She’s missed out on a bunch of stuff because of her circumstances, and she wants to make up for lost time. I’m not messing with that,” he repeated.
“Sure, I get that. But what if what she wants is to make up lost time with you? Don’t you think Della has the right to make that decision on her own? Not have you make it for her?”
Drew cocked an eyebrow at Arlo. “Welcome to the new century, dude. We were wondering when you were going to join us.”
Arlo smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. When she first came to Credence, I was so desperately afraid for her. She was so…fragile. But she’s grown and changed. She’s independent now. So, it’s up to her. Bo, you, or somebody else—or nobody else—but it should be her choice.”
Tucker nodded. He agreed with that—wholeheartedly. But he didn’t know if he was even on her radar like that. Yeah, she’d admitted to having a crush on him, and they’d had a good time together, and she clearly hadn’t been happy about him pushing Bo at her, but…did she love him? He couldn’t just be her guy for now. Or one of many in her field. That would destroy him. He needed all or he wanted nothing. There weren’t any half measures for him.
“Look, dude.” Arlo folded his arms. “Do you want to be with her?”
Tucker nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you’d treat her right? You’d love and cherish and protect and all that jazz? You’d put her first and support her in all the things she still wants to do with her life?”
“Of course.”
“And have you told her that?”
“No.” God, no.
“Then tell her. And let her decide.”
Tucker’s pulse washed loudly through his ears. Could he put himself on the line like that? What if she rejected him? Tucker had been guarding his heart around her so long it had become his default position. Loving her secretly seemed far less fraught than saying it out loud and maybe losing. “I think it’s too late. I screwed up. She’s probably decided I’m not worth the hassle.”
Hell, she was probably sticking pins in a voodoo doll made in his image.
“Yeah, but…what if she decides you are?”
“Hey,” Drew said. “I saw her panties in that glass on the bar last week. I have a feeling she just might be into you, too.”
“Drew. Jesus.” Arlo’s face scrunched up. “I don’t want to know shit like that.”
Drew shrugged. “He washed it.”
Arlo grimaced again but turned his gaze on Tucker. “Well?” he prompted. “Are you in or not?”
A surge of adrenaline hit Tucker’s system. This was it—fight or flight. In or out. Yes or no. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this petrified, when something had meant this much. But Arlo and Drew were right. He had to at least be honest with Della and let the cards fall where they may. If it was a no, then he’d bow out graciously and do his damnedest to make sure they got back to being friends. Even if it killed him.
“In.”
Drew whooped and pumped his fist as he grabbed Tucker around the shoulder for a quick guy hug. “Yes!”
Arlo stepped forward and shook Tucker’s hand, which was oddly formal, considering how long they’d known each other, but also oddly right. “Okay then. No time like the present.”
Drew agreed wholeheartedly. “Call her. Tell her you want to see her.”
Tucker checked his watch. It wasn’t even eight thirty. “She’s probably still on her date with Bo.”
“No time to waste, then.”
“I can’t interrupt her date. I won’t.” He refused to be a douche and make an enjoyable evening for her all about him and his needs and demands. Even if the thought of her and Bo getting friendly was like an ax in the back of his head.
“Text her or leave a voice message,” Arlo suggested.
“No—you know what you need?” Drew said. “A grand gesture. That’s what Winona always talks about. Something big and showy to declare your love. Like a blimp. Or a flash mob.”
Tucker gaped at Drew. “Where am I going to get a flash mob in Credence?” He liked the idea of going big, and blimps were the kind of phallic a man could appreciate, but they weren’t exactly flush with them around here, either.
“Maybe we could get the old folks from the home involved? They love Della, and I know the ones who do the yoga class are pretty limber?”
“Bob Downey in spandex?” Arlo shudder. “Nobody needs to see that.”
“Okay, what about…getting Annie to bake an I love you message into one of her pies? Or writing a love letter and tying it around Betty’s neck. Or spreading rose petals from the front door of her house all the way to the bedroom and spelling I love you on the bedspread?”
Tucker and Arlo stared at Drew. “I’d have to sling his ass in jail for being a creepy fuck.”
“Yeah, good point.” Drew grimaced. “Then I think we should call Winona. I bet she’d have some ideas.”
“We’re not getting Winona in on this,” Arlo said, his voice brooking no argument.
Drew shot a doleful look in Arlo’s direction. “Fine, then,” he said. “Where are all your ideas?”
Arlo scowled, pressing his lips together as he obviously scoured his brain. Suddenly, his face brightened. “This whole thing…it started with Tinder, right?”
Tucker nodded. “Yeah.” Della sitting at his bar choosing a profile pic had been the catalyst for everything that had followed.
“So…let’s go back to the beginning.”
…
Della kicked off her shoes the next afternoon after work and sank onto the couch. Betty leaped up, being her usual enthusiastically affectionate self, and Della hugged her tight, trying not to think about her date with Bo last night being a total bust. It had been pleasant enough. She’d enjoyed his company, but her heart just hadn’t been in it. It hadn’t been in anything since last Saturday, when Tucker had stomped all over it with his casual dismissal of their relationship.
She’d been barely putting one foot in front of the other ever since. And she’d cried. A lot. But she’d been determined to go through with the date, to prove to Tucker that she was just fine.
Except, he hadn’t been at the bar, and she’d realized as soon as they’d stepped inside The Lumberjack that going ahead with a date she didn’t really want to be on to rub another man’s nose in her love life wasn’t being fair to Bo. And he’d been a total gentleman and completely understanding when she’d told him she hadn’t been honest, that there was someone else.
He’d have been well within his rights to be pissed, but he’d simply smiled, said “Lucky guy,” and dropped her off at home.
And now here she was at four o’clock in the afternoon, with just her dog for company and no prospect of Tucker coming around later and her heart bleeding all over the floor, and she wanted nothing more than to get into her bed and pull the covers over her head.
But she wouldn’t do that ever again.
Getting a grip of herself, she sat, displacing a dozing Betty. Enough tears. She wouldn’t mope or fall into some kind of depression. She’d spent too many years inside her head, and she wouldn’t go there again. Not when she had all the tools she needed to stop that kind of slide, and especially not when she’d been through worse and survived.
She’d get through her first true broken heart, too.
First thing Monday, she would make an extra appointment to see Selena, and in the meantime, she would not sit around feeling sorry for herself.
As if the universe knew she needed a friend, her phone rang. It was Ruth. “Hey,” Della greeted.
“Just ringing to make sure you’re not lying around in a puddle over there?”
Della had caught Ruth up with the ins and outs of her love life—such as it was—at work today, which had included an outburst of tears, so it was very sweet of her to check in. “I’m fine. I’ve decided no more tears.”
“Good. Really good. Now…time to get back on that horse.”
Della laughed. “I might need more than a week.”
“Nope. Absolutely not. The best way to get over a guy is to find another one to have a good time with, and there’s no time like the present. Get back on Tinder. You never know.”
“Tinder? Ugh.” Della had been more than pleased to not have anything to do with the dating app while she and Tucker had been fooling around. Did she really want to go back?
“Yes.”
“I don’t know, Ruth.”
“Look…just see what’s out there. If nothing else, you can get a laugh out of the bios, right? I can come over later and help. I’ll bring wine.”
It was on the tip of Della’s tongue to say no, but she’d just resolved not to feel sorry for herself, and it wasn’t like anybody else was likely to drop by. Not anymore. “Okay, yeah. I’d like that.”
“Yaaas!” The genuine enthusiasm in Ruth’s voice made Della laugh. “I’ll see you about seven?”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
Della ended the call, feeling better. Before she could talk herself out of it, she reactivated the Tinder app, thankful that she’d listened to Tucker that night and not deleted it from her phone altogether. The man had been good for something, at least.
She blinked as about a hundred notifications flashed up and then settled into the couch. They would keep her busy for a while, and that suited her just fine. Except one of the first notifications she came across was from Tucker.
So…he’d also reactivated his account. Ack! She really wished she didn’t know that. Della stared at his face for the longest time, ignoring how much it hurt to do so. She hadn’t seen him all week, and she missed him despite everything. Missed his big lumberjack head and those prickly whiskers of his and the way he smiled like that, with those dimples on display.
Betty whined as she shoved her nose at the screen and licked Tucker’s face. “Yeah, Betty Boop.” Della petted the dog’s head. “I miss the jackass, too.”
Her hand hovered over the screen, trembling a little as she debated about whether to open it or not, but, putting on her big girl panties, she took a deep breath and tapped on the notification.
It took her a second or two to realize his bio had changed—dramatically. It was very different to the short one-sentence bio from the past. And what she read there just about stopped her heart in her chest.
Tears streamed down Della’s face. He loved her? He loved her. He’d told Arlo about them! That had to be love, right? He wanted to take her to Disneyland. Her heart, which had been a broken-down, crumbled mess, barely beating enough to keep her alive, kicked to life.
He loved her. But…
Tucker overcoming his stuff didn’t miraculously mean she could overcome hers. He’d told her he’d hang the sun in the room for her if she needed, but really, how practical was that? It might be fine for a night or two. A short fling—sure. But forever? That was a lot of nights in the land of the midnight sun.
She’d come up with this Della 2.0 plan with no permanent commitment in mind. With the fervent belief that she would always be just a little bit too damaged to take that step into commitment with someone, and she’d been fine with that. She wasn’t looking for gold. Silver was enough. Hell, bronze would be fine. She was better off alone, and she understood that asking a guy to sacrifice anything for her was too much to ask.
And then Tucker had offered her the sun. And she’d fallen in love with him. As he had—apparently—with her.
God knew she wanted that. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and just let go for once. But this wasn’t a wild gamble on an outside horse or an all-in bet in Vegas. This was forever.
Could she get past her hang-ups? She wanted to. God…she wanted to.
She picked up her phone, feeling the bravest she’d ever felt in her life, which included talking to strangers she didn’t know about the assaults she’d suffered. Maybe this wouldn’t work out. Maybe she and Tuck were a pipe dream that would never actually work in reality.
A better in her fantasies than reality type of thing.
But she had to try. She had to find out. She’d never be able to move on with the rest of her life if she didn’t show some courage here. She’d been brave before in much more dire circumstances.
She could do it again.
He picked up on the second ring. “Della?”
God, he sounded so good. “Tucker.”
“Are you okay?”
The concern in his voice was palpable. “I’m fine. I’ve just seen your Tinder profile.”
A few seconds’ pause on his end felt like a minute. “Already? I figured it might take a few days.”
The thought that she might never have seen it if it wasn’t for Ruth hit her. “And what was your plan if I didn’t see it at all?”
“We were just strategizing that. Drew likes the idea of putting it on the billboard coming into town.”
Della laughed, surprising herself. Definitely not his dirty little secret, then. Which made her ridiculously happy, considering there was so much they had to talk about. “I think we should talk. Are you at work?”
“Bryce started early. He can take over. I’ll come to you. Be there in five.”
The phone went dead in her ear, and Della blinked at it, her heart pounding, her blood whooshing as fast and frantic as river rapids through all her pulse points. One way or another, the question of her and Tucker would be sorted today.
She wondered absently if she should change. Have a quick shower, put on some makeup, and slip into something more comfortable. But realistically, she didn’t have the time, and all she was really capable of was sitting on the couch, petting Betty, and praying.
Betty barked the second she heard the low rumble of his pickup pulling into the curb, and by the time Della had crossed to the door, Tucker was on the other side. Her heart leaped at the sight of him when she pulled it open. He was standing there in his usual jeans and T-shirt, his hair a little messy, like he might have been shoving his fingers through it—a lot.
It felt like she hadn’t laid eyes on him for a whole year as every cell in her body went into paroxysms of joy. Betty barked and leaped up on his legs, vying for his attention, and Della couldn’t blame her one little bit.
“You told Arlo,” she said on a half whisper, ignoring Betty’s yips, her hand still around the doorknob.
He nodded, leaning into the doorframe, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he knew there were things to talk about before he could touch her. “I did.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, I’m in love with your sister.”
Della grinned even though she knew she shouldn’t. There was more than this to overcome, but just hearing those words kicked her pulse up a notch. “You’re still here and remarkably unscathed, so I’m assuming it went better than you thought.”
He gave a half laugh. “Yeah. But it wouldn’t have mattered if it hadn’t. It needed to be said. You’re not my dirty little secret, Della. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. Sorry for everything. For pushing you away, for acting like I knew better. I only ever wanted the best for you. I just…never thought it could be me.”
“You were an idiot of the first order.”
He nodded gravely. “Yes.”
“So was I. I know you didn’t think I was your dirty secret. I was just…angry. And I’m sorry that I was a brat who constantly pushed you and pushed you. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I didn’t appreciate that enough.”
“You weren’t a brat. And I’m pleased you pushed me.”
He held his hand up palm down between them. It trembled slightly. “God…look at me. I’m shaking.”
Della smiled and held out her hand to show him her tremor. They smiled at each other as they dropped their hands. “You love me?” she asked softly.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I do. I’ve loved you for a long time. Since before the whole wingman thing. I was just in denial and then too chickenshit to admit it in case you didn’t reciprocate.”
“I’m not an easy person to love. I have issues…baggage. I honestly understand why and frankly couldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to take that on.”
“The lights?”
She nodded. “I don’t know if that will ever get any better. I mean, I’ve come a long way on lots of fronts, but that… I just don’t know. It’s not conducive to a harmonious life, and I’ve mostly come to terms with it.”
“Is that why you’ve set out this course where you stay footloose and fancy free? Because you’re afraid no one can accept you as you are?”
“It’s a big ask. They shouldn’t have to.”
“Della.” His voice was almost a croon when he reached for her cheek and cupped it. She rubbed her cheek into his palm because she couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d tried. “People make all kinds of allowances for the people they love. Would you reject me if I needed the same considerations?”
She shook her head. “Of course not.” Of course she wouldn’t.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Right.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes.
“I love you, Della. All of you. Your past and your present. I’m sorry that I’m not guy number twenty or whatever the magical number might be, and I understand if you want to keep going until you meet him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate number twenty with the fire of a thousand suns, but I understand. I love you enough to let you go. But I needed to let you know how I felt first. I know it might not be smooth sailing, but I don’t care. I’m in. I’m all the way in.”
Della’s heart swelled. “You love me.”
“Yeah.”
“I love you, too.”
His face lit up, slowly at first, but by the time his dimples were on full flash it was like a beam of sunlight had him in its shaft. “Yeah? You love me, too?”
“Yeah,” Della whispered, her pulse tripping. “You didn’t know?”
He shrugged. “I—didn’t dare hope.”
She looked at him for the longest time. “I don’t need number twenty. And I definitely can’t promise you smooth sailing. But there’s no one I’d rather have by my side. In stormy waters and in calm. I’m in, too. All the way in.”
Della wasn’t foolish enough to think it would all be sunshine and unicorns. But they had each other and people who loved them and wanted them to be happy. And psychotherapy. She’d been strong enough to get through the emotional wringer of the last three years, so why wouldn’t she be strong enough to look beyond those three years, to look to her future and be brave enough to let someone love her?
Truly love her.
“Well, that is…” He smiled, his eyes dancing with delight. “Good news. Hell, it’s great news.”
Della slid her hand to the front of his shirt, curled her fingers into it, and pulled him inside, pushing the door shut behind them. There was a gleam in his eyes she very much liked the look of, and he was big and broad and solid beneath her hand, and his hair was ruffled and sexy as hell.
She wound her arms around his neck, rising up on her tiptoes. “We’ve been idiots.”
“Yes, we have.”
“Let’s not do that again.”
“Let’s not,” he agreed readily, his hands sliding around her waist, bringing her against the hard length of his body—right where she wanted to be. “Let’s promise we’ll tell each other everything, always. For the rest of our lives.”
“The rest of our lives?” Della pressed herself against the burgeoning ridge of his erection, loving the change in his eyes as delight turned to desire. “I like the sound of that.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, lowering his head, his gaze fixed on her mouth. “Me too.”
A sudden knock at the door had them both freezing. “Who could that be?” Della whispered.
Tucker shrugged as he untwined himself reluctantly and strode to the door. Della followed, standing just behind him and to the left. It was Mrs. Doyle standing on the doorstep, her arms folded, her foot tapping impatiently.
“Tucker,” she greeted briskly as she nodded at Della.
“Mrs. Doyle,” he acknowledged.
“I thought that was you, but you appear to have arrived empty-handed. You haven’t been around for a while, which means I’m running real low on birdseed, and I thought we had an…” She flicked a gaze at Della. “Understanding.”
Della might have been pretty damn happy in love right now, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t annoyed both at Mrs. Doyle’s gall and timing and completely astounded by the woman’s giant cojones.
She wasn’t that happy in love.
“Tell everyone, Mrs. Doyle,” she said, pushing in front of Tucker. “Tell all of Credence, tell the entire state of Colorado. Hell, tell the whole damn country if you want. Tucker Daniels and I are in love. Shout it from the rooftops.”
Della went to shut the door, but Tucker stopped it momentarily. “I’ll bring a bag for Cheech and Chong tomorrow.”
And then he shut the door gently in Eadie’s gawping face.
“You’re a softie,” she accused with a laugh.
“Oh no I’m not,” he growled.
And proceeded to demonstrate as he pushed her against the door and kissed her for a very, very long time.