Page 50 of Coming Home Country
Tucker understood my meaning and dipped his chin sadly as he offered his hand for me to take.
The previous song was coming to an end as he pulled me close. With a hand on his shoulder, I steadied myself, preparing for the tempo to kick up again and for us to move with the crowd. But instead, the guitar strings on stage strummed slowly, and my breathing hitched.
They were playing our song—the one we’d once made plans to dance to at our wedding.
My vision grew blurry at the painful reminder of what could have been if circumstances had been different.
I half expected Tucker to let me go, but to my utter surprise, he only pulled me closer. Instinct, combined with muscle memory, had me laying my head on his chest as we swayed gently to the song. The lyrics had been so meaningful when we were kids. They spoke about dreams of a future that felt like forever away—promises of someday putting a ring on your hand, having a wedding where you drove away with cans tied to the tailgate, having kids running wild and free, building a dream house where you put handprints in the cement, and growing old together.
That had been our dream. One that never came to be.
I clutched Tucker tighter, wishing with all my might that I never had to let him go.
With a two-ton elephant sitting on my chest, I realized there were a whole slew of “one mores” I’d never gotten with this man—one more kiss, one moreI love you, one more drive in his truck to a secluded spot. And I hadn’t even been able to cherish the “last ones” of those because the promise of forever with Tucker meant an unlimited supply of them until I took my final breath.
Swallowing, I lifted my head, pulling back enough that I could view Tucker’s face. The regrets written there matched those churning in my gut, both of us wishing things had been different.
The urge grew overwhelming to steal one of those lasts back, to savor it before stuffing it into the back recesses of my mind—only to be brought out on the darkest of days to serve as a reminder that I’d once been loved the way I truly deserved.
My hands shifted from Tucker’s shoulders, slowly gliding up the sides of his neck. He shivered when my touch met his bare skin, but he didn’t pull away.
“Bex,” he breathed, my name said like a prayer.
“I just—I need—”
His eyes searched mine as our bodies continued to sway in time with the melody. “What is it that you need, baby? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
When I licked my lips, his gaze dipped, tracking the move. He might’ve been the one to ask a question, but I was the one desperately in need of answers.
Could one spark reignite an old flame?
I was afraid to utter another word as my hands continued their upward trek until they settled on his face. Eyelids drooping, Tucker gripped my wrist, turning his face into my palm, brushing the lightest kiss against the skin, causing me to tremble in anticipation.
My heels had left the ground, my weight shifting as I rose on my toes. But then the body pressed to mine stiffened and pulled away. But he still had my wrist—the good one—locked in his grasp, his fingers digging into the skin almost painfully.
Confused, I opened my mouth but zipped it immediately when he turned my hand over, the diamond on my fourth finger catching the overhead lights.
I felt the sharp slap of my palm against my thigh before I had time to process that he’d relinquished his hold.
“Go home, Bex.”
His rejection was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.
Fuck. Nostalgia had wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I wasn’t thinking straight when I made a move to kiss him. Meanwhile, Tucker had drawn a line in the sand, making it clear he wouldn’t cross it with another man’s fiancée.
That ring had never felt heavier, weighing me down and handcuffing me to a life I’d once wanted but now turned my stomach.
Coming home was the wake-up call I needed to realize I couldn’t do this anymore.
“You didn’t come to bed last night.”
Keeping my eyes locked straight ahead, I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
Aaron dropped onto the chair beside me with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry for how I acted. You were right. I shouldn’t have put you into the middle of what went down between me and Blaze.”
I remained silent, gathering all my strength for the tough conversation we needed to have.
“Come on, Rebecca. The least you can do is look at me when I’m trying to apologize.”
