Page 11 of Love is a Game

“Andthe window seat, and the fact that you’re even here, Tuck!Why are you here?” I demand.

He meets my eyes, unperturbed. “You’re trying to do the hardest thing in the world alone. You shouldn’t have to, Pen.” His voice is soft, gentle. “I’m here because you need someone. I’m that someone.”

I take that in for a beat. My long-term frenemy-with-benefits wants to suddenly play it sentimental?

“So my mother died, and now you’re devoting yourself to my every whim?” I fold my arms. “Do I get a foot massage too? Maybe dinner out? You know, I’ve always loved that Koak artwork in your living room. Can I have that?”

Tuck scratches his temple.

“Do you think it works on everyone?” I continue, struggling to rein in my sarcasm. “If I cry and mention my mother died, will they offer us free booze or an upgrade to the exit row?”

“Perhaps.” Tuck shoves his array of snacks into our seat pockets. “But considering we’ve still got an hour’s drive ahead of us after we land—and you’re going to want to be the one driving—I think we’ll have to hold off on the drinks until we get to Blue Mountain Lake.”

“And then we can get smashed?” I muse. “Well, why not? I’m sure Mom’s still got a bottle of good whiskey stashed in Grandma’s old vase on top of the kitchen cabinet. Though, honestly, why she hid it when she never had visitors is beyond me.”

Tuck eyes me carefully.

And I know it’s amazingly kind of him to be here. He’s a busy guy and undoubtedly cancelled business trips and meetings galore to make that happen.

But instead of feeling grateful, my heart feels like an empty, cold shell. Or more like a discarded exoskeleton because the warmth and life that should be there fled for a more hospitable climate.

I sigh. If I can’t summon lightness and hope, I can at least appreciate the ease of being with him. With Tuck, there’s no need to put on a giant facade or pretend to be someone better than I am. He’s familiar with plenty of my flaws—and somehow still accepts me. Maybe it’s because I do the same for him. Or maybe it’s because I’ve kept the deepest fractures hidden. The kind no one ever really gets to see. The stuff I try to keep hidden even from myself.

Honestly, if we hadn’t known each other all this time, we probably wouldn’t have ever connected. I’ve always had a thing for tortured creative types, while Tuck radiates clean-cut corporate ambition.

He’s all polished edges and focused goals. But he’s also much more than that. He’s generous, curious, and thoughtful in ways I can’t claim to be. Where I keep people at arm’s length, he dives right in, finding value in everyone. And somehow, that includes me, cracks and all.

Even the fact that he knows I’ll have to be the driver today is kind of comforting. Tuck understands if I’m in a car, I need to be in control, thanks to my childhood.

Before we settled in Blue Mountain Lake, my life was a blur of buses, cars, and train trips I had no say about. Long-haul journeys to the next big thing after my dad blew up whatever life we’d just attempted—communes, trailer parks, fruit-picking communities, even couch surfing a few times when we were seriously down and out.

Then came the day Mom finally left him for good. At the time, they worked at a ranch in South Dakota. Mom cleaned, and Dad was a groundskeeper. Somehow, Mom managed to squirrel away enough money to buy a little blue Daihatsu that got us all the way to Blue Mountain Lake.

We ate and slept in that car for days. And even though it was a relief to have an end to their ugly arguments, I cried my heart out for my dad.

One bright morning, Mom woke me to say, “We’re here.” Then, as a stern-looking woman stepped out of a neat brick house with a concrete path and raised flower beds, “Come meet your grandmother.”

And that was the end of our drifter lifestyle.

We moved in with Grandma, and Mom never moved again.

But she sure as hell made sure I did. She told me enough times that it burned into my brain. To get educated and have a skill. To earn my own money no matter what. And to make a life in the city, well away from Blue Mountain Lake.

“If you’re educated and skilled, you always have choices,” she told me. “Know this—people will screw you over. You have to protect yourself. Men might well use you and dump you, or get you pregnant and never provide a decent life —but it’s the women who will never let you live it down.”

I guess that’s what she felt, coming back to her small hometown—judged at every turn.

A literal homecoming queen at Blue Mountain High, Mom returned dejected and desperate after finally ditching her homecoming king—my loser dad. High school sweethearts who got swept into the romance of running away together to seek adventure. Until she got pregnant with me and any dreams of a wanderlust life were dashed away.

I glance at Tuck as I reach for the chocolate-coated almonds.

“It’s strange how easily you assume the future, isn’t it?” I consider. “Somehow I thought Mom would go the way Grandma did—live into her eighties, have a fall or something, and just…fade away. Not die in a car crash on the way home from work. Do you know how many times she drove that route to Newcombe?”

Tuck nods, scanning my face. “Mom said the police think she swerved to avoid an animal—a deer maybe? Near the bend after Alder Creek.”

“That seems the most likely scenario.” I shake the almond packet toward him.

He takes a handful but doesn’t eat right away, seemingly distracted while the nuts lie scattered in his broad palm. After a while, he slips one into his mouth.

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