Page 44 of Never Say Never

I drop my head into my knees, shaking my head. “That hurt so bad. And then you dumped your bottle of lemonade on a Kleenex and stuck it against my forehead. So, I was in painandsticky.”

“In my defence, the lemonade was ice-cold, and I thought it might help. I never said I was a doctor, Daisy.” Tucker laughs at the memory. “You refused to cry, though.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was a baby. I was scared you wouldn’t bike ride with me anymore if I did.”

“But you had a concussion. It was a big deal. Your parents took you to the hospital.”

“And you came with me,” I remember with a soft smile. “You refused to stay at home.”

Out of my peripheral vision I notice his eyes move from me to the view. He shifts, crossing his legs at the ankle. “I was so worried about you.”

“It was just a lump.”

“It looked like your brain had exploded.”

We both begin to laugh, the sound bouncing off the lighthouse wall behind us. I would know the sound of Tucker’s low, rumbling laugh anywhere, and hearing it tonight makes me realize how much I’ve missed him. He was my entire world for 16 years, and then, one day, he was gone.

“Come on, I’m starving, let’s get something to eat.” He nudges me gently with his elbow.

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“We’d be breaking a rule.”

Tucker huffs out a breath. “I’m hungry. I bet you skipped dinner and you’re hungry too. It’s not a date, it’s just food. Last I checked, two friends eating burgers together is not against the rules.”

As if to bring his argument home, my belly lets out a low grumble.

“See? You’re starving.” Tucker playfully slaps his hand against my knee. “Plus, I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch. I’m going to get hangry any moment and then you’ll be wishing you let me eat.”

“Fine.” I can’t believe I am agreeing to this, but if Tucker isn’t considering it a date, then why should I?

We hike back down the trail to the beach and then into town, making easy conversation. Tucker talks about the team and the upcoming games and then I tell him about Italy and all the places I want to see when I’m there. He’s quiet after that, and I chalk it up to him being hungry. I can’t help but wonder if he might miss me when I’m away. A month ago, he probably would barely have noticed. There’d be one less person at family dinner, but other than that I doubt it would have really crossed his mind. Now, though, I’m not sure how he feels about it. Things between us have changed so much.

We turn into Delila’s Diner, an all-night spot that has been around forever. The place is iconic in Reed Point, popular with hungover students who come here on Sunday mornings for their six-dollar trucker special breakfast.

Tucker and I are seated near the back of the restaurant, where we slip into an avocado-green leather booth. We’re lucky that we don’t have to wait; Delila’s is busy as always, just about every table in the 50s-inspired space is occupied.

I look at Tuck, who is sitting across from me with his ink-covered arms resting on the shiny red table. He’s wearing an athletic shirt with the Outlaws logo on the chest and a backwards baseball cap. Immediately, I feel fireworks deep in my belly just from glancing at him. He’s beautiful. I force myself to tear my eyes off him and focus on the menu.

“What are you going to get?” I ask, my voice shaky, trying to act like being here alone with him isn’t a big fucking deal. Tucker and I have dinner with our parents every week, but I’ve never actually been out to a restaurant with him, just the two of us. I know it’s not a date, he made that clear—but right now, it feels a lot like one.

“Probably whatever you’re having,” Tucker says with a grin.

“You haven’t changed a bit in 10 years, have you?”

“Nope,” he says with a shrug. “Why would I change now?”

I wouldn’t want you to,I think to myself. It feels good being here with him like this. It feels familiar. When we were kids, Tucker and I would celebrate our birthdays together and he would always just go along with whatever birthday cake or dinner I chose. His response was always,Whatever Daisy wants.

I’m thankful when our waitress, a cute blonde, appears at our table to take our drink order, jolting me from my memories. “Oh, hey, Coach Collins. Big game coming up. I can’t wait, the team is looking so good.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“The Outlaws are having quite the year thanks to you,” she smiles, her green eyes drinking him in. “So, what can I get you?”

She turns to me when Tucker nods in my direction. “I’ll have a cheeseburger, extra pickles, no tomato with fries and a glass of water.”

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