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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

AMEDEO

Keeping myself busy for two and a half hours was easy. I let myself get lost in the little boutique supermarket as I debated what I wanted to make him for lunch. I wasn’t much of a cook, so I ended up overbuying enough ingredients to make a charcuterie board—then I needed the board. Then drinks. Then dessert.

By the time I was adding sunflowers to my basket, I knew I’d gone too far. I didn’t put anything back and said a prayer for all the stuff that would go to waste. The drive back to the rental didn’t take up enough time, but putting everything together did.

I thought, then overthought, then panicked and paced when I tried to figure out the best way to lay it all out for Tucker so he didn’t have to struggle. I went on a deep-dive Google search but couldn’t find any articles on how blind people liked to eat charcuterie, but I found several issues on etiquette when dealing with people who had vision loss and watched those until I realized I was about to be late picking him up.

I threw everything into the fridge, managed to get my shoes on as I was hopping out the door, and was lucky I didn’t get pulled over for speeding as I turned into the parking lot.

He was there, standing in front of the rink, leaning on his white cane and talking to a woman who was standing very, very close to him. Too close. Close enough that it made my throat ache with an unfamiliar pain.

He was smiling too. And she was swaying closer to him, touching his arm, gesturing, making him laugh.

Fuck her. Fuck this absolute monster who was trying to weasel her way into a place she didn’t belong.

The force of that thought scared the hell out of me. That was not who I was, and I had absolutely no claim to Tucker at all. Who did I think I was?

I forced myself to take several deep breaths before pulling up to the curb, and then I realized I had no idea what to do. Did I get out and call to him? Text? Could he even read texts right now? I glanced in my mirror, and I saw the woman staring at me with a frown.

My goose was cooked.

Opening the door, I stepped halfway out and twisted to look at Tucker, who had stepped away from her a little. It was only then I noticed a kid hanging onto his free arm. It was a boy who couldn’t have been more than seven, wearing wrap-around shades and carrying the smallest white cane I’d ever seen.

“Deo?” he asked.

“Yeah. Hey, am I t-too early?”

“Nope. Sharon was a little freaked-out and thought that I had a stalker,” he said with a grin. “Luckily I like stalkers when they’re hot as fu—uh—uhhhh. Fudge.”

“What’s fudge?” the kid asked.

“Never mind,” Sharon snapped, shooting Tucker a dark look.

He was unbothered, either because he couldn’t see her, or he didn’t give a shit. I was betting on the latter.

Tucker carefully removed his arm from the kid’s grasp and ruffled his hair. “See you next week, yeah? And work on those ankles. Later, Sharon.”

She said nothing, but Tucker didn’t miss a beat as he walked over to my car and touched the side. My heart swelled, and I forgot all about her as I got lost in his grin.

“You ready, babe?”

Babe? Oh, that was me. I was babe. I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I, uh…I threw together some lunch?”

“Here?”

“What? No. At the house.”

“Thank fuck, I’m so hungry.” He wrenched open the door and slid in, folding his cane and dropping it on the floor. He groaned as he stretched his feet, arching his back and shaking the car as I got back in. “Is she still standing there?”

I looked through the mirror again. “Yeah.”

“Lord, please have mercy on me,” he said, folding his hands into prayer. “She has been trying to climb on my dick since her kid started lessons.”

My neck went hot. “Oh. Um…did, uh…do you…?”

“Relax. She’s not my type. She’s not really that bad. She has this idea in her head that Miller needs a blind dad.”

I had no idea what to say to that, so I said nothing at all and instead started the car, pulling away from the curb. I watched in the mirror as she took her son’s hand and began to lead him toward the parking lot.

“Is that ever something you thought about?”

Tucker turned his head toward me. “What? Boning a single mom with a blind kid because I feel obligated to help raise the next generation of blind beer league players?”

I burst into laughter. “Uh…not exactly. But, you know, kids?”

He grimaced, and that made me feel better. Kids were never on the table for me. I was too messy and too overwhelmed all the time.

“Could you even imagine me as a dad? What a fucking mess that would be.”

Maybe he was right, but the idea of it was kind of hot in an abstract, I didn’t really want to find out kind of way. But I had a feeling watching him be good with the little ones would do things to my insides.

He was a mess, sure, but he was also a caregiver, and that was something I had sorely been lacking for years and years. He was too tempting—too perfect. So much of what I’d always fantasized about having. And here he was, ready to let me sample, but that was all.

“So,” Tucker said after another long silence, “you sound like you’re kind of freaking out. What’s wrong?”

I blinked in surprise, but yeah. I was being weird again. I’d given him the silent treatment without meaning to. “Sorry. It’s been a weird few days.”

“Mhm. And I’m kind of hoping last night didn’t make it worse.” His tone was vulnerable in a way I wasn’t used to hearing from him.

Reaching over, I snagged his hand and pulled it up, kissing his wrist. He made a soft humming noise, almost like a purr. “Last night made it a lot better. Even if I’m still…confused.”

“The Vegas thing, or?—?”

Or. Definitely or. I could handle a blackout drunk hookup or whatever it was. A fake marriage that, in the end, meant nothing. I’d come here to fix things, and I’d only ended up complicating my life worse than it already was.

I hadn’t expected to fall for him.

And I had no idea what to do about that.

“Too much happened at once. But none of it is your fault, okay?”

He hummed his agreement, almost like he didn’t believe me, but I appreciated there was no argument. I kept his hand as I drove the rest of the way to the rental and only let him go when I put the car in park.

He got out carefully, and when I was within reach, he took my arm and leaned on me. “This okay?”

“Anything with you touching me is always okay,” I answered.

He laughed, squeezing me tight. “Don’t say that , sweetness. You have no idea where my mind goes sometimes.”

I was pretty sure I did, and it didn’t scare me. I led him inside, and we both kicked off our shoes, then hovered in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. “Um…wh-where do you want to eat?”

He grabbed me and spun me to face him. “Am I making you nervous?” His hand cupped my jaw, thumb touching my lip. “Your stutter is back.”

I shrugged. “I’m not nervous. But being with you gives me butterflies.” Oh God, did I really say that? What was I? Twelve?

His face lit up like I’d said something good instead of horrifically embarrassing. His other hand came up, both of them framing my face, and he leaned in slowly. His intentions were clear, and it was too easy to tilt my head back, part my lips, and accept the kiss he was giving me.

It was slow, warm, steady with a hint of need in the way he groaned, pushed into me, and slipped his tongue into my mouth. He kissed the way he moved, rough yet somehow also graceful. His hands were light on my skin, but his calluses caught along the beard shadow I hadn’t shaved, and it made me shiver.

“Lunch?” he said, his voice ragged. “I don’t have a whole ton of time this afternoon, and while I’m happy to make it up to you after dinner, you are too tempting right now.”

I pulled away and spun us both so he was facing the living room. “The couch is at twelve o’clock directly.”

He looked surprised. “I—where did you learn that? Did I tell you that?”

“No. I fell down an internet rabbit hole today,” I told him, then darted off to avoid embarrassing myself further.

Pulling the board out of the fridge, I stared at it. It was missing something…bread. It was missing bread. I grabbed a knife and sliced up the baguette I’d grabbed from the bakery section, then threw a few pieces on each side before walking back to where Tucker was waiting.

“I forgot to ask you what you like to eat, so I went with a meat and cheese board.”

His brows lifted. “Charcuterie? Fancy .”

I flushed. “It’s not put together nicely, but, um…well.” It was an idea I’d had, and now I was doubting myself because he was a grown man and athlete who probably needed a whole hell of a lot more than pieces of lunch meat and overpriced soft cheeses.

“Deo?” he asked quietly.

“S-sorry. Sorry.” I stumbled forward and set the tray down without spilling it on him, which was a small triumph. “Drinks? Water or…water. All I have is water.”

His mouth twitched. “I think I’ll go with the water.”

I spun on my heel and rushed out, taking a ridiculous amount of time to pour two glasses. When I came back, he was sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, mouth stuffed full of salami and bread. He grinned at me as I sat and held his hand out for one of the glasses.

“This is delicious.”

“It’s not enough, is it?”

“Is that what you were freaking out about?” He set the glass down, then pinched my chin and kissed me. He tasted like a deli counter smelled. “I usually have a protein shake for lunch. This is perfect.”

I couldn’t tell if he was lying to make me feel better, but it sounded on brand for him. “If there’s anything I do wrong, please tell me. I’m not afraid to face it when I fuck up.”

His expression went stormy. “Deo.” My name came out like a growl, and he took a deep breath, held it, then let it out.

Shit. I’d made him angry. “S-sorry. I just?—”

“No. Baby, no.” He swayed into me. “You’re not a fuckup.”

“That’s not what I said,” I answered weakly.

He snorted. “Yeah, but it’s what you were thinking.”

I couldn’t argue. It was.

“You’re not a fuckup. I don’t care if you served me a pile of slop with a stale bun on the side, okay? The fact that you took the time to do this was kind. And I’m not sure I’ve done enough to deserve it.”

“You mean, aside from being amazing to me, making me feel welcome, and…well…the way you made me feel last night?” I flushed so hard I got dizzy, but I was emboldened by him. I couldn’t let him feel like he didn’t deserve every good thing that happened to him.

Letting out a breath, he twisted his body and reached for me, his arms sliding around my shoulders. “I like you.”

My ears were warm. “I like you too.”

“I—” He stopped abruptly and shook his head.

“Tell me.”

I wasn’t sure he was going to. I watched his face go on a journey I couldn’t quite read, but he was struggling with something. “Kiss me, then say you’ll come to dinner at my place tonight.”

I knew then that wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but I let it go because I wanted to kiss him. And I wanted to say yes, that I would have any meal with him whenever and wherever he wanted. His lips were so soft, so careful with mine, and I closed my eyes, basking in the weight of him as he pressed into me.

He broke it off and knocked our foreheads together. “I want to fool around, but I have to get back soon. I have two more lessons, then an interview with the Legends owner.”

“For the coaching job?”

He grinned as he leaned back. “Yeah. It feels…I don’t know. Odd.”

“It’s a big deal, right?”

He blew out a puff of air and shrugged. “Professional parahockey has only been around for a few years. I think six,” he said, frowning. “This guy—this former NHL player broke his neck and became quadriplegic, but he wasn’t ready to stop playing. He got into sled hockey, but he realized that it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted the same respect as the NHL. It took a lot of fighting and a lot of cash and calling in favors from retired players, but eventually, it worked. It’s not as much money or acclaim because, well, people suck. But being offered a job as a coach for the NBHL?—”

“The what?”

He laughed. “National Blind Hockey League. It’s a big deal. It’s real money. It’s…well, different than I envisioned my life going when I was nineteen and signing my name on a dotted line. But it feels just as important.”

I felt his words in my chest, the weight of them like the pride and fear were my own. “Tell me how you want me to wish you luck.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re so sweet, but I don’t need it. This is enough.” He traced a touch down my arm, linked his fingers with mine, then brought our curled knuckles to his lips and kissed my hand.

I had no idea what to say, so instead, I basked in what I had, not sure if I had the strength to let go.