After Math (12 page)

He’s in the car before I have time to muddle through my thoughts. Tucker reaches for me, his lips on mine, his tongue exploring my mouth with impatience. His hand slides up my leg and under my skirt, resting on my upper thigh. With a groan, he pulls back and starts the car, driving out of the parking lot.

“I need to tell Caroline I left.”

Tucker turns to me.

“I don’t have my phone.”

He shifts in his seat, pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me.

I look at the screen, trying to decide whether to text her or call. Texting is the chicken-shit way out, and she won’t recognize the number, but if I call her, she’s liable to give me a lecture, if she even hears her phone. I need to suck it up and call her. I sigh with resignation and tap in her number.

She doesn’t answer and the call goes to voice mail. Talk about luck. “Caroline. I left the club, but I’m fine. I got a ride. Stay and have fun. I’ll see you later.” When I hang up I feel a mixture of guilt for not being honest and relief I didn’t have to argue with her.

Tucker shoots me a look. “You didn’t tell her that you left with me.”

“She doesn’t understand.”

He nods, and I wonder what he’s thinking. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yes.”

I look out the window and realize we’re not going to my apartment. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“But my—”

“
My
home.”

The significance of what he says sinks in. “Oh.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, Scarlett. I want to try to make this work.”

Hope flutters in my chest.

He stops at a red light and reaches for my neck, pulling my mouth to his. “You’re worth fighting for.”

Tucker kisses me, and I lose track of where we are until a car honks. He drops his hand from my face and grins before driving through the intersection. His apartment is close, and he parks in the half-empty parking lot. He’s out of the car in seconds, moving to my side and opening the door. His mouth is on mine for a brief moment, the promise of more to come, then he wraps an arm around my back and leads me to the entrance.

Tucker’s apartment complex is nicer than mine. A door leads to a hallway with indoor entrances to the apartments. We go up two flights of stairs to the top floor, and he stops partway down the hall, unlocking the door and ushering me inside.

His hands tug at my shirt before the door is closed. He pulls the shirt over my head and presses my back against the door, his pain-filled eyes searching mine. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you, Scarlett. That scares the shit out of me. Everyone I love always leaves.” His voice breaks. “I’m scared I’m going to lose you.”

I reach for his face. “I’m here, Tucker. I’m where I want to be. With you.”

He kisses me again then leads me down the hall to a closed door. When he opens it, I’m surprised to see a tidy, organized bedroom. His bed is made. His books are stacked on a dresser.

I don’t have time to give it much thought because he’s pulling off the rest of our clothes while kissing me. The only thing I’m aware of is Tucker. His hands and his mouth make my body feel things I never thought were possible.

He lowers me to the bed, and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. With him.

“Scarlett, you’re so beautiful. Inside and out.” His lips trail along my jaw and down my neck.

My hands reach for his chest, and they slide across his muscles to his shoulders.

“I love it when you touch me,” he says. His dark, passion-filled eyes look up to mine. “Every time you touch me, I know you’re not a dream. You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” I whisper with a soft smile.

He props on an elbow. The fingertips of his other hand glide across my breast.

I gasp.

His eyes search my face while a smile lifts his mouth. His fingers continue their dance, driving me crazy with want. I close my eyes and moan.

His voice is low and husky. “I love your little sounds. I love that I can do this to you.”

I open my eyes and heave a breath. “Only you, Tucker. You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel this way.”

His mouth is on mine, hot and hungry. I wrap my arm around his back, pulling him closer. The need for him outweighs everything else. There’s only Tucker and me, everything else fades away. His head lifts, and he stares into my face with such love and adoration that tears spring to my eyes.

He shifts and leans over to his nightstand, grabbing a condom from the drawer. After he puts it on, he moves between my legs, hooking a hand under one of my thighs and pulling it up to his waist. He enters me slowly, and I arch my back with a low guttural sound. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want Tucker right now. He finds a slow rhythm, and I’m climbing, needing more.

I reach for his waist, my hands sliding up his sides, to his back and he quickens his pace.  I open my eyes and find him watching me, the same look of adoration and longing. Our eyes are locked as my body ascends to heights it’s never reached before, never knew existed. “
Tucker
.”

“There’s only you, Scarlett. Only you.”

My eyes sink closed as the onslaught of sensations bombards every nerve ending in my body until I’m only aware of Tucker above me, pushing me higher and higher, and this desperate craving for more. When I’m so high I don’t think I’ll ever find my way back, I shatter into a million pieces, plummeting to earth. But Tucker’s here, catching every sliver and putting me back together, but not into the person I was.

I’m someone new.

Afterward, I lay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest against my cheek, and I’m amazed. I never thought I could feel so content. So happy.

We fall asleep in our cocoon of peace. I’m dreaming about Tucker and the way his eyes twinkle when he smiles, when a ringing jars me from my sleep. I rouse enough to realize the sound is Tucker’s phone.

We’re a tangle of limbs and sheets, so he has trouble rolling to the side of the bed and reaching his jeans. When he pulls the phone out of his pocket, he checks the screen and fear fills his eyes. He sits upright, swinging his feet to touch the floor as he answers.

“Yeah.” He listens, then hunches over his knees. “
No
.” Pain fills his voice.

I sit upright, worried.

“What the hell are you thinking?” He breaks into a sob. “For God’s sake, don’t do it.” After few seconds he hangs up and tosses his phone on his table.

I reach for his shoulder. “Tucker?”

Tears streak down his face, and he struggles to catch his breath. “Someone I know is in trouble.”

Climbing to my knees, I pull him into a hug and stroke the back of his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“How could it be your fault, Tucker? You’ve been with me.”

He leans back and stares into my face. He looks so shattered that my heart breaks for him. “You don’t understand.”

I caress his cheek. “Then help me understand.”

He shakes his head, determination replacing some of his agony. “No. I can’t.”

“Tucker, you don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you. Let me in.”

He pulls away from me and stands. “I can’t, Scarlett.”

I watch his shoulders shake with the tears he tries to suppress and I wonder how much progress we’ve made after all. He’s with me, but he won’t share what’s bothering him, and he’s pushing me away in the process. I know I can’t expect him to change overnight, but I also know we’ll never really be close if he’s hiding things from me. “Do you need to do anything? Do you need to go anywhere?”

He closes his eyes, and shakes his head, pressing his palm into his forehead.

“Is it Marcel?”

He turns to face me, rage in his eyes. “How do you know about Marcel?”

I resist the urge to shrink away from his anger and instead hold my ground. “
You
told me, Tucker. The night I found you punching the Dumpster. You told me that Marcel was your brother, and whatever he was doing was your fault.”

Horror washes over his face, and he sits on the edge of the bed. “Did you tell anyone?”

I scrunch my forehead in confusion. “Who would I tell?”

“I don’t know. Caroline? Your friend in the math lab? You didn’t answer my question, Scarlett. Did you tell anyone?”

I don’t understand why his brother is a big secret, but he’s obviously agitated. “No. I didn’t tell anyone.” Then I remember my conversation with Jason. “Wait.”

His panic-filled eyes shoot to my face.

“I mentioned him to Jason, but he didn’t know who he was.”

Tucker bounces off the bed to his feet and paces, rubbing the back of his head. “You told
Jason
?” He turns to me. “
When did you talk to Jason
?”

His swinging pendulum of emotions scares me, but not for my physical safety. “He came to see me in the math lab earlier this week. He told me to end things with you. That I was distracting you.”

“And you didn’t tell me this?”

I shake my head, my breath sticking in my chest. “You and I weren’t exactly speaking then. You’d made it clear you weren’t interested in me. I didn’t see the point. There was nothing to end.”

“How did Marcel come up in the conversation?” His voice is cold.

I pull the sheet up to my chest, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Jason told me he was your brother so I asked him if I could expect a visit from Marcel next.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did he say?”

“He asked me who Marcel was.”

“Did you tell him?”

Anger burns in my chest. I feel sorry for Tucker and the pain he’s in, but he doesn’t have the right to treat me like this. “No. I didn’t answer him.”

He nods.

“So is Jason your brother?”

Tucker glares.

Resentment and disappointment threaten to swallow me whole. I slide my feet to the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

I grab my panties on the floor and step into them, keeping my back to Tucker. I’m exposed enough without having him see me naked right now.

He grabs my shoulders from behind, his fingers digging into my flesh with his tight grip. “Where are you going, Scarlett?”

Jerking from his grasp, I reach for my bra and slip it over my arms, fastening the back before I turn to face Tucker. “Home.”

“
Why
?” Pain fills his voice again. “You’re leaving me?”

“Tucker.” Tears clog my throat. “I want to be with you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but you can’t even share something as simple as who your
brother
is. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me about your family, then this isn’t going to work.”

His eyes narrow with anger. “So you’re running away from me.”

I step into my skirt, tears blinding my vision. “No, Tucker. You’re the one running away from me.”

“You’re the only person I see leaving.”

I can’t find my shirt and then I remember Tucker took it off when we came home to his apartment last night. How did everything change so quickly? My chest shakes with a sob. I look up into his face. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you, but you have to open up to me, Tucker. Give me one thing. Just one thing, and I’ll stay.”

He turns to the side.

“Who’s Marcel? Why do you think it’s your fault?”

His eyes close, and his chest rises and falls.

“Who is Jason? Why do you have different last names?”

His hands fist at his sides.

“Tucker.
Please
.” I wonder how fair this is. He’s clearly upset, and I’m pushing him to do something that he’s uncomfortable doing. But he needs me, and the only way I can help him is if he lets me in.

“Jason is my foster brother from my last family.” He sits on the side of the bed, defeated. “We have different last names because my foster family didn’t adopt me. Jason lives with me here.”

I sit next to him and wrap my arms around his shoulder. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“Don’t leave me, Scarlett.” He chokes on the words.

Tears stream down my face, and I brush the tears off his. “I’m here.”

He turns and kisses me, his hands grabbing my cheeks. “But for how long?”

I stare into his guarded eyes. I can’t answer. I’m surprised he doesn’t realize he’s the one who has the answer to his question.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jason is gone for the weekend, so I spend most of Sunday with Tucker, but he’s reserved, which is understandable given the fact someone close to him is in trouble. But Tucker seems raw and wounded, and I wonder if he needs to spend some time alone. He takes me home by mid-afternoon, only because I insist I need to study.

Caroline is frantic with worry when I walk in the door.  “
Where have you been
?”

“I told you…” My voice trails off as I realize I only told her someone was bringing me home. I close my eyes. “Caroline, I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?” Anger replaces her worry.

I’m silent. She has every right to be upset with me. How could I be so thoughtless and careless?

Her eyes narrow. “You were with Tucker.” Her words are clipped.

“Caroline…”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head. “Just don’t.”

I spend the rest of the afternoon in my room, studying and feeling miserable. Isn’t falling in love supposed to be wonderful and magical? Am I doing it wrong? Leave it to me to screw this up, too.

Caroline’s chilly attitude thaws by early evening, but we don’t talk about it, pretending that the incident never happened. We snuggle under an afghan and watch several episodes of
Gossip Girl
, my apology gift to her. For the first time, I realize the show isn’t just about a bunch of rich kids, but the pain and turmoil they experience as they fumble their way through figuring out who they are and what they want. Their lifestyle is only expensive window dressing. Turns out rich kids struggle with the same things the rest of us do.

We’re between episodes, and she gets up to get the ice cream container and two spoons. When she sits, she hands me a spoon then digs into the container of rocky road.

“I worry about you, you know,” she says, focusing her attention on her spoon. “You’re the closest thing I have to a sister. I just want you to be happy.”