“Why isn’t he back now!?” I yell.
Huddled on the couch, around a coffee table of snacks, my friends stay quiet and look at each other. For seven years it was us, this little group. Tucker didn’t belong, but he was missed just the same. It’s wrong to not have him here.
I cover my tears and try to steady my breathing. He can’t be hurt. Everything has to be fine because I just figured it out. I know how I feel, how I want to move forward. He can’t get ripped away from me now. That’s not fair.
No fairer than it taking me twenty-two years to realize I love him or for me to have spent a week in a coma because of some drunk idiot. It’s not fair that Tucker had to be the one to save me. It’s not fair that he decided it was too painful to love and lose, so he didn’t remind me of our conversation where we planned a life together. I’m not missing out on anything else.
The rain continues to pound on the pavement, and I hear Jen’s voice call out, “I think that’s him!” She’s standing on the other side of the door, looking out a window with me.
I run out the door as the car pulls into the driveway. Tucker parks and jumps out, yelling, “What are you doing?”
I’m so glad to see him and frozen in thetell him, tell himmoment, but all I can say is, “Are you okay?”
He comes around the car, gesturing to the rain that pours over both of our heads. “Yes. What are you doing?”
“Why didn’t you take your phone?” I demand.
Tucker stands in front of me. “I just left without it.” He tries to pull me under the covering of the porch, but I ground my feetinto the concrete.
I scream, “You’ve been on that thing all week andtodayyou don’t have it when I wanted to call you for the last two hours!”
“Ella!” He raises his palms.
“You’ve been glued to your phone so you don’t have to look at me or talk to me!” I spit. “If you had it, then I would have known where you were, I would have known you were safe -”
“Enough of this.” Tucker scoops me over his shoulder, walks the few feet to the porch and drops me on feet. His white tank top is soaked, his hair flat over his eyes. He swipes water from his face. “Why are you yelling at me in the rain?”
“Because I was scared!” I lift to my toes. “I thought something happened to you.”
“I just docked for a little while just because of the lightning. What are you so worried about?”
I grab his face. “You! Because I love you,dammit!”
Tucker’s eyes roam over mine, but he shows no expression, no look of excitement or dread. He says, “I know.”
My jaw drops. “You know?”
“Well, I know you loved me seven years ago, I didn’t know if it went away.”
“Why would it go away? You knew all of this time that I still probably loved you and you’ve been toying with me? You should have just said it! How can you be so flippant about my feelings?”
“Flippant?” His mouth twitches. “This coming from a woman who refuses to accept that I can’t love her anymore. How’s that for being flippant about someone else’s feelings? Huh?” He sets his hands on his hips, leans toward my face.
My hands drop. “Of course, I still love you, dumbass, the same way you still loveme.”
“Well, there we go,” he mutters.
“There we go.”
I inhale, my chest rising and falling as I oscillate betweenbeing angry and being enamored. I think I’m more angry right now. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and sink my mouth onto his. Water drips onto our joined faces. I tune out the background chatter of rain against the road, the car, the gutters. Tucker holds my back and scoops me up until my legs wrap around his waist.
I breathe, “I love you.”
“I thought you didn’t remember,” he whispers, kissing my neck.
“I didn’t until Johnny mentioned it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid to.” He looks at me. “I thought about calling you every day for seven years. I tried to replay that phone conversation we had where you told me you loved me, like I could trigger a memory if I said the right word. And then…I was worried that if I had said,hey you’re in love with me but you don’t know it,that you’d look at me like I was crazy. And I’d lose you anyway.”