Page 23 of Here's to Yesterday

“You want a drink, Tuck? I’m buying,” Hudsonannounces.

“Sure, man. Theusual.”

“I’ll let you buy me a drink, Hudson. And I’ll even carry it back to the table for you,” Gaige says, standingup.

“Wow. How fucking sweet of you,dude.”

“You know me. Sweet as sugar,” Gaige replies with a deadvoice.

We all laugh atthat.

Rae and Perry start arguing over whatWonderwalltruly means, leaving Tucker and me to sit insilence.

I watch him watch the stage where a tall, slender woman is reading an excerpt from her latestnovel.

“You love it up there, huh?” Isay.

“Yep.”

“More thananything?”

His gaze snaps to mine. “More than anything,” he admitsquietly.

“Then why do you always tell them—” I nod my head toward the suits “—no? If you love it so much, why don’t you do it all thetime?”

He reaches over and picks up my water, taking a large drink from it and keeping eye contact with me. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he answers, and I notice the calluses building up on his fingers. I don’t know if it’s from playing the guitar or working on cars all day at Jacked Up, the shop he helps run withHudson.

“It’s not that easy,” he finally says, setting my glass backdown.

My eyebrows pinch together. “Whynot?”

He shrugs and turns back toward the stage. “I’m…needed here fornow.”

I take his answer for what it is because I’m obviously not going to get anything else from himtonight.

Hudson and Gaige each return with their hands full of drinks. After passing them out, we all turn our attention to the poetry being read from the stage. Rae giddily screeches a few indecipherable words about her beloved Will Cooper, and Hudson lets out a loudsigh.

I would love to tell you what the poem is about, but I have no clue because my mind won’t stop spinning. I don’t understand at all what Tucker could have here that’s holding him back. He’s not in a relationship. He has no children. He’s not attending school for anything. He works and plays here at Mic’s once a month. And, newly added to his routine, bugs the crap out of me at Clyde’s, but that’s beside thepoint.

I don’t get how any one of those things would hold him back here. I want to question him more, get him to open up and tell me, but I know he won’t. Not here, notyet.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” he suddenly asks, causing me to jump, which is ridiculous since Iwasstaring athim.

He looks over at me, piercing me with his gaze. I meet hisstare.

“You find it?” Tucker asks. I know he’s referring tohismask he wears when it comes to talking about his future as amusician.

“Almost,” I say softly, turning back to the stage and leaving him to stare at me thistime.

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