Page 15 of Already Gone

“Why didn’t you?” he asks softly and reaches over to take my hand in his. With just that little touch, it’s as if the whole world is set to rights.

“Because I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve your friendship. God, Tucker, I was a bitch to you in school, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. I wish I had a good reason for it, but I don’t. I was just mean and lost and…you know that saying that we hurt the ones we love the most?”

He nods, not looking me in the eyes. I want to hug him close and beg him to forgive me. I settle for squeezing his hand.

“You were my best friend. I didn’t treat you like that in public, but it’s the truth. You were my only friend. And I hated that. I hated that no one else saw the Scarlett you did. And rather than fix it—fix myself—I took it out on you. God, Tucker, can you ever forgive me?”

“Only if you can forgive me.”

All of the breath rushes from my lungs. “For what?”

“For the way I talked to you last night when I brought over the spaghetti.”

“I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. I was rude and disrespectful. I’m not gonna lie, Scarlett, you hurt me when you left. You were my best friend, and then you were just…gone. I hate to admit that I lost myself after you left. So, I guess the saying is true because when you did finally come back, instead of giving you a hug and telling you how much I missed you, I got angry.”

“You had every right to get angry,” I insist, wanting so badly to ask him why he thinks he lost himself. But we’re not there yet, and I don’t have the right to ask those questions.

“I don’t want to be angry, and I sure as hell don’t want to fight with you, Scarlett.”

“I don’t want that either,” I reply and lean my cheek on his shoulder. The warmth of his body radiates through me, and I find myself melting against him.

“Does that mean you forgive me for being a complete dick?”

I grin and glance up at him. “I forgive you. Now, what about you?”

“What about me?” he asks, and I roll my eyes and push away from him. Despite the heat, my hand feels cold after he lets me go.

He reaches over with a smile and brushes my hair behind my ear, and I can’t help but lean into his touch as his finger slides along my cheek.

It never felt like this when Tucker touched me when we were kids—full of electricity and awareness. It’s scary and exciting all at once.

He lowers his face until he’s just inches from my lips. I swear to Jesus, the man is going to kiss me, but instead, he says, “I forgive you, Scarlett Jane.”

My eyes fall to his full lips. He’s breathing a little faster than normal. My body is tight with anticipation and a new longing that I don’t recognize but want to explore.

“No one’s called me that since I was seventeen.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Dad! You have to see this,” Chloe yells, busting through the back door. “I’m teaching Rick to play gin rummy, and he’s totally beating me. It’s like he’s gifted or something!”

Tucker holds my gaze, humor filling his whiskey-colored eyes.

He pulls back and glances over at Chloe.

“He’s not gifted,” I reply and stand. “He taught me to play that game.”

“You’re a shark!” Chloe yells as she hurries back inside, making both me and Tucker laugh.

“She’s so great, Tuck,” I say softly.

“She’s the best,” he agrees.

“Where’s her mom?” The words fly from my mouth before I have a chance to think them over.

His eyes whip to mine in confusion. “You don’t know?”

“How would I? I haven’t been here for a while, remember?”

He shakes his head, and I have the distinct feeling that I just said something very wrong.

“You know,” he says as he stands from the table. “I’ve come to grips with the fact that you didn’t come home all those years. But now you’re saying you never even asked about me? I never came up in conversation with your dad?”

“Of course, you did, Tuck. But it’s not like my dad is going to tell me all about your marriage, even if he knew the details. My dad’s not a gossip.”

“Because there wasn’t a marriage to talk about.” Tucker walks away from me to the end of the back porch and shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, staring at the lightning bugs.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I offer, but he shakes his head and turns back to me.

“I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“Maybe it’s habit?” I offer, earning a half-smile.

“One I need to break,” he agrees. “Frankly, I think tonight has been good, and I’d rather not taint it with my shady past.”

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