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CHAPTER SIX

AMEDEO

The first thing I did before leaving for Massachusetts was cut Bryce out of my life like an infected wound. I’d blocked him on the few social media apps I used. Then I handed my phone to my sister and had her block all of his close friends and family so he couldn’t use their accounts to stalk me.

Everything I had was private now, and I wouldn’t be accepting any new follows or friends until everything was done.

I was going off Bryce cold turkey. That was the only way I was going to get rid of him.

It was nice to think about that for a while instead of the shit-show that had become my attempt to meet Tucker. I was still reeling from seeing his friend standing at his door, and for a few minutes, I’d gaslighted myself into thinking I’d imagined half the stuff I remembered from Vegas.

Then the guy—Ford—introduced himself properly. He was sweet enough to apologize for hitting on me at the store—which I hadn’t realized he’d been doing.

He told me that Tucker would be home any minute, and he’d invited me inside.

And then I ran like a goddamn coward.

If he hadn’t called me, there was every chance I would have gone full chicken and left town without ever seeing him. It would have been the cruelest thing I could have done because I knew exactly how that would have made me feel, knowing my random Vegas husband had come into town and then ghosted me. But I wasn’t a brave man.

I never had been, never would be.

Staying with Bryce for so long was proof of that.

But Tucker had called.

I nearly threw up all over my lap when I heard his voice, but it triggered another wave of memories of that night. I could picture his face when he laughed, and the way he always turned his head far to the side when he was looking at me, and how he clung to my arm like he needed me.

And God, that had felt so good because when had anyone ever needed me? The answer to that was never. Alessia treated me like I was a lost puppy from our childhood. Bryce treated me like a convenient fuck when he was bored and a verbal punching bag when he was irritated. I was good at my job, but I was nothing and no one special.

I didn’t really have any friends either, so…

Yeah.

Tucker made me feel different. Like no one ever had. It was no wonder I was a complete and total dipshit that night and made the mistake that might have ruined everything. Hell, I hadn’t even asked if Tucker had a partner. Maybe I’d ruined not only my own relationship but his too.

I was going to fix this, damn it. Whatever it took.

I found a café that looked a reasonable distance from where he lived and managed a text to him shortly before midnight, which was way after I told him I’d be in touch. He didn’t respond, and while that was a little gutting, it was also well deserved.

I went to sleep all nerves and was plagued with stress nightmares of kissing Tucker and then having him morph into Bryce. I woke up sweating and sick to my stomach so many times that by five, I gave up.

Showering did a little to ease some of the tension in my muscles, and the rental had a nice coffee station with a few dozen flavored coffee pods. It made me smile knowing Bryce would have hated it. A small, vicious part of me hoped that he was twisting himself up inside not knowing where I was or what I was doing.

I sat on the porch, watching the sunrise, and the feeling lasted until my phone began to buzz. I glanced over at the screen, and my heart skipped a beat. It was my sister, and that was how my morning officially started.

“When are you meeting him?”

I blinked. “Who, Tucker?”

“No, the fucking Easter Bunny. Yes, Tucker.”

I grimaced at her, though she couldn’t see me through the phone. “We’re meeting for breakfast. Well, brunch,” I clarified. I told Tucker to meet at ten thirty so he didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn like I did.

“What time is it there right now?”

“Not after ten thirty. You’re better at geography than I am, Liss. What’s going on?”

Her silence told me this wasn’t a nothing call. She wasn’t checking up on me.

“Alessia,” I said firmly.

“He’s at your place.”

I didn’t need to ask who. “Why? You were supposed to get him to clear his shit out.”

“Yep. And he showed up with cops who said that this was his place of residence because he got mail there and had stuff inside,” she said. “I didn’t want to call you yesterday while you were in the middle of all the traveling. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

My stomach sank through the floor. I’d been afraid of that. We’d never officially moved in together, and over the last year, he’d spent less and less time with me. But he did get some mail there. And yeah, he had shit. That’s what I wanted him to clear out.

“They said he has every right to be there, and you have to sort it all out together. They made me leave.”

My stomach began to roll. “I hate him.”

“So do I. I’m going to work on it, okay? But…don’t come home. He seemed a little unhinged, Deo. Like, I’m genuinely worried about you being near him.”

She wasn’t joking. I could hear it in her tone.

“What am I supposed to do? That’s my home.” I pressed a hand over my face and took in a long breath. “He’s going to wreck everything, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He probably is. He had that little fuck-face with the pierced nipples with him too.”

Oh God, they were going to fuck on my bed. They were going to fuck on my couch! I was going to have his spoodge all over my stuff.

My face went hot. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I know,” Alessia answered, sounding genuinely sorry. “I wish I could make it better for you, and I’m going to try. But you needed to know.”

For a moment, I was angry. Did I need to know this right now? Was it necessary to fuck up my nerves, which were already frayed to nothing? But I couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t her fault. I was the one who screwed around. I was the one who took too long to end this toxic bullshit between us.

“I’ll call you later. I need to go.”

“Deo—”

“No, seriously. I have to get ready to meet Tucker and take care of this. When I have some free time, we can chat, and I can figure something out.” I could break my lease. Bryce wasn’t on it, and as much as I hated that idea because I was comfortable there and had been for years, maybe it would be worth it to start entirely over.

I’d sleep on a blow-up mattress and live out of plastic bins and suitcases if it meant being rid of all the things Bryce ruined without having to actually see him. I could do this.

It wasn’t the end of the world.

“Just be careful, okay. And if he finds some way to contact you, don’t tell him where you are. I don’t trust him. He’s scaring me right now.”

This was unlike her, but it was hard to imagine Bryce was truly dangerous. He was all pomp and ego. I didn’t trust him not to get violent, but he was far too delicate to do anything that would get him in real trouble. The man was not built for jail. Not even the drunk tank for a night.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Amedeo!”

“Okay! Relax. I wasn’t going to tell him where I am, and I won’t answer calls from strange numbers.”

“Better.” She breathed out a small sigh of relief. “Text me when you meet your husband, and let me know how it goes.”

I hated her a little for calling Tucker that, but it was fair, I supposed. It was the most real thing in my life, anyway. I hung up after, then went back into the rental and debated about taking another shower just to eat up some of the time between now and when I was supposed to see Tucker’s face again.

Instead, I spied my keys, then grabbed them and decided on a scenic drive. At the very least, it would let me think, and maybe it was time I got used to the quiet loneliness again. After all, once this was over, that was going to be my reality, and it was time I finally accepted it.

* * *

Being that I had no idea where I was or how far I should drive before turning back again, I was nearly late to the café. Judging how long something took wasn’t exactly my strong suit, and I was in a half panic by the time I pulled up to the little shopping center and parked.

The clock read 10:29, the glowing numbers glaring at me like I was a piece of shit who did nothing but create messes everywhere I went.

“Shut up. I’m here on time,” I told it, then smacked myself because I was talking to a clock . Taking a breath, I turned the car off and got out, hating that I had zero time to give myself a pep talk.

Maybe that was for the best. My pep talks usually turned into me panicking and running, so at least I wouldn’t do that to Tucker today. But I had to enter the café with shaking knees and my face all hot and prickly with panic, which felt terrible.

I glanced around the room, not quite sure if I was going to recognize him or not, but there he was. My gaze caught on his scar first—it bisected his right eye like some kind of anime character, which I remembered finding charming when I’d first met him.

After that, I drank in his shaggy hair, which I knew was soft, and his full lips, which I was pretty sure kissed like a dream. He had his hands on the table—rough-knuckled, long-fingered, and easy to hold when I was feeling anxious.

God, why was I waxing poetic about him? It wasn’t like I liked him…was it?

No. That was ridiculous. Snap out of it, Amedeo .

Squaring my shoulders, I bypassed the coffee counter, since I was wired enough on panic as it was, and crossed the room. As I approached the table, he startled when my shadow crossed him, and then he did that thing again where he turned and tilted his head to look at me.

Was his right eye normally so…off center? Jesus, that was a rude thing to think! I knew there was something wrong with it. He’d told me in Vegas, but I couldn’t remember anything except that he wasn’t allowed to drive.

“Hi. I’m Amedeo. S-s-sorry I’m late.” Did I seriously need to stammer right now? It had been so much worse over the last few weeks.

Tucker frowned and gestured to the seat in front of him. “I don’t recognize you.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I tried for a laugh, though it kind of sounded like a dying goose. “Yeah, we were both pretty drunk. I probably wouldn’t recognize you, except I saw you the morning before I?—”

“Escaped?” he offered.

I turned bright red. My cheeks were burning, and I cleared my throat. It was weird to be close to him like this again without being, well, naked. Or mostly naked. I did wish I could remember what we’d done though.

We got undressed because…

“You were hot.”

His brows flew up. “I was hot? Drunk goggles, then, huh?”

Had I said all that out loud? Oh, hell . “Oh my God, n-no. No. No.” I forced myself to take a breath. “Um, I do that sometimes—blurt things out that cross my mind.”

“Ooookay?” Oh, he looked totally done with me. Crap.

“I meant to say,” I began slowly, “we were naked in bed because you got hot.”

“You remember that?” He leaned forward, tucking his curled fist under his chin, and Christ, he was cute. He didn’t seem a day over twenty-five with the round apples of his cheeks and his dimples. Even the scar didn’t take away from his youthful look.

“I’ve been having, ah, flashes? I guess. I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that blackout drunk before.”

“Glad I could pop your cherry, then,” he said and snagged his iced coffee, taking down half the cup while he grinned around the straw.

My cheeks flamed deeper red, and I was pretty sure I was the color of a tomato. I probably deserved the public humiliation though. I couldn’t quite remember how we got the night started, but I was almost a thousand percent sure it was my idea to get married.

“Um.”

“Untwist your panties. I’m joking. You don’t give off virgin vibes.”

I choked on my tongue, and he shoved his drink at me, nearly smacking me in the eye with his straw.

“Sorry, shit. My depth perception isn’t great.” He reached forward with a comfort level I was not expecting, touched my mouth with his fingers, then shoved the straw against it. “Drink this and don’t die.”

I obeyed him. Why the fuck was I obeying him! The coffee was too sweet and full of caramel, which I hated. “That’s disgusting.”

He burst into laughter. “It’ll put hair on your chest. Anyway, so. We got naked because I was hot, then you woke up and…panicked?”

“That about sums it up,” I told him.

“Because we were married.”

“Ah. Well…I didn’t quite figure that part out until I went downstairs and the front desk had our marriage documents and—um.”

He lifted his left brow at me.

“Your, um. Your legs?”

“Oh, shit . They had them?” He slapped the table, making me jump. It was instinctive, but when I did it, he looked immediately sorry and yanked his hand back. “I thought you ran off with them and then got a guilty conscience.”

I couldn’t help a small giggle. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know! Who gets wasted, marries a stranger, then leaves them in a strange bed?” It should have sounded like an accusation, but it didn’t. “Do you know why we got married?”

“I have really, really foggy memories. We were talking in a bar.”

“Yeah,” Tucker said slowly. “I was sad. You were sad.”

“I was angry,” I corrected, but that felt like a lie. “And a little sad. My boyfriend is— was —a shithead that night.”

“Was a shithead or was your boyfriend?” Tucker asked. His tone was tense.

“Was my boyfriend. Still a shithead. I’m kind of hiding from him right now.” Why was I telling him that, oh fuck. Shut up, Amedeo. You do not need to be trauma dumping all over this man.

Tucker’s face fell. “Did I fuck up your relationship?”

“God no. No. Bryce and I were…” We weren’t over, and that night was definitely some form of cheating, but it was already so fucked to hell. “Things hadn’t been good for a while.” I swallowed heavily. “He’s not a very nice person.”

Tucker looked outraged. “Does he live nearby?”

“Um. No? I live in California.”

His face fell a little. “Oh. Oh my God, you’re so far away from home!”

I laughed a bit and rubbed the back of my neck. “Mm. But it’s fine. It was better that I put some distance between us. He’s currently holding my apartment hostage with the guy he’s been seeing behind my back for the last six months and probably doing gross things to all my stuff…and why am I telling you this. You don’t care.”

Tucker looked like he did care though. He reached across the table and yanked my hand into his, squeezing it. “Did you tell me all this shit at the bar?”

“I doubt it. I normally don’t blurt that stuff out. I don’t want random, super-hot strangers to think I’m a complete loser.”

He started to laugh, but it cut off quickly. “Wait. Am I the random, super-hot stranger?”

“Um. Yes?”

He looked like I’d just told him every day this year was Christmas with an unlimited budget. “Wow. Okay. I see why I married you.”

“Uh…”

“Never mind. Ignore me.” He drummed his fingers on the table, then said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.” I owed him that, at least.

He tilted his head to the side. “Now, my vision isn’t the best”—he waved his hand at the eye with the visible scarring over the cornea—“but you look…young.”

I flushed. I got that a lot. Too much. A few weeks ago, someone from the electric company had come to my door to talk about a rate increase and asked if my parents were home. I tried to grow a beard once, but whatever came in was patchy and hideous, so I quit trying.

“I’m sorry,” he said after my long stretch of silence. “I shouldn’t have—I mean, clearly, you were old enough to drink and gamble.”

I waved him off, then reached up and tugged at my hair, which desperately needed a cut. “I get it a lot.”

“So does Bodie.”

I blinked. “My roommate,” he clarified. “He has cerebral palsy, so he’s short as fuck and kind of tiny?” He lifted the last word like it was a question. “And he’s got this baby face like yours. Don’t say anything though, unless you want a tooth knocked out.”

I definitely didn’t, and I would also never be that rude to a total stranger. I zipped my lips, then held up my hand. “Not a word. And for the record, I’m twenty-nine.”

“Sweet, okay. So I didn’t rob a cradle or a grave. Bonus.” Tucker grinned widely. “So, we should have dinner.” He talked fast and changed subjects so quickly I felt like I was getting whiplash.

I frowned at his suggestion, then checked my phone. “It’s, like, ten forty-five.” Was that an East Coast thing I didn’t know about?

“Not now.” He rolled his eyes and squeezed my fingers before letting go. “Tonight. I’ll bully Bodie into cooking for us. Then I’ll make him leave so we can actually talk this out somewhere that isn’t a café with a bunch of small-town, nosy gossips trying to listen in.”

I glanced around frantically for evidence. Was that happening? Everyone seemed to be minding their business. Well, except for two guys who looked like brothers—maybe even twins—sitting three tables away. They weren’t looking at us, but they did start laughing when Tucker said that.

“Ignore them,” he said pointedly and louder. “We don’t talk to people who make fun of me.”

They laughed harder.

“They’re not looking at us. How do you know they’re making fun of you?”

“They’re not looking because they’re blind. But they have super-trained hearing, like a fucking dog ,” he shouted, making them double over with their giggles, “because they play hockey and have to listen for the puck. And I’m going to make their coach make them skate suicides until they puke if they don’t mind their business.”

“Love you, Tuck!” the brother with the backward baseball cap said loudly.

“So.” Tucker smiled at me and showed off two missing molars with how wide his grin was. “Anyway. Dinner.”

I could do dinner. I smiled back, and his ears pinked. What I wouldn’t give, I thought, for this to be something I could keep. But there was no way I was ever going to be that lucky.