"Oh . . . are we getting kinky now? I'm not prepared for phone sex. Give me a second." He clears his voice and talks in a deep, rich tone, "How you doing, baby? Want me to stroke my gonads for you?"
I hang up and chuckle, not giving him a chance to further whatever fucking disastrous conversation that would have been. With a renewed sense of direction, I grab my wallet, stuff it in my back pocket, and head out to my car in the parking garage just as I get a text message.
Racer: It's offensive to me that you would hang up just as I start to stroke my penis.
Fucking idiot.
Tucker: Thin ice, man. Smalls is on speed dial.
Racer: Don't you fucking dare! This reconciliation is in my hands . . . that and my penis.
Tucker: I must be a total moron to have gotten you involved.
Racer: Moron or genius? We will just have to wait and see.
I guess we will.
Chapter Twenty-Five
EMMA
I put my car in park and look at the dark house in front of me. Empty, that's how it feels. Empty, cold, and not like home. It's become a place to lay my head. Despite Tucker's attempts at making it seem like a home, it really isn't one without him living in it, without his eggs and bacon waking me up in the morning, or without that rough, yet sexy voice of his bouncing off the walls, joking and teasing.
It just isn't the same at all.
I can't wait to get out of here. There's no point for me to move out since graduation is right around the corner, so I just have to grin and bear it.
Sighing, I exit my car, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and enter the house. I lock up before entering the kitchen where I don't even bother turning on the light. I ate at the student union with Logan and Adalyn, just like every other night for the past few nights. Eating by myself has been rather depressing, so I try to avoid it as much as I can.
I turn the lights on in my bedroom and startle for a second. It's empty. Everything is gone, the only thing in the room is a vase of peonies with a card on the ground. Is this how he tells me to move out? With the dreaded thank-you note I predicted and some flowers as a last hurrah? What the hell, Tucker? But he said he would fight for me, and I know him.
He does fight for those he cares about.
My heart switches from terrified to twisting and turning from the possibility of Tucker being here. I drop my bag and sit on the ground. I smell the peonies, which draws a smile on my face and pick up the card. Written in familiar handwriting is the word "Baby." Butterflies float around in my stomach and my throat starts to grow tight.
Excited and nervous, I open the card. On the front is a picture of Niall from One Direction that makes me laugh out loud. Inside there is a long note with a few folded papers. I decide to read the note first.
Hey baby,
When I said I wasn't giving up, I meant it, but first I have a few things to apologize about. (I wanted to do this in person, but work has gotten in the way, so please bear with me as I try to make this work for us)
Apologies:
I'm sorry it's taken me this long to contact you. Just because I haven't talked to you doesn't mean I haven't thought about you every second of every goddamn day we've been apart. You consume every moment of my day, Emma, and it's the reason why I've taken this time to get my head straight. I've had some challenges in my life and without addressing them, without truly finding acceptance, I wouldn't be mentally healthy enough to give you all of me. And that's what I want. I want you to own every ounce of me, Emma.
I'm sorry if I ever made you question the way I feel about you, if you ever felt second best to Sadie, or if you ever thought you weren't good enough for me, if I merely was just using you for fun. Nothing could be further from the truth. Since the moment you moved into my house, our home, I've felt light again, free, like the world around me is suddenly full of color. You, baby, are the best thing to ever happen in my life and nothing can ever change that.
I'm sorry I put a roadblock between us, a rule that ended up hurting us more than helping us. At the time, I was still struggling with finding a way to deal with the pain that consumed me. I didn't want to be reminded of all that I lost. And then you came along, and lit up a bright future for me. So rule number six is off the table . . . which brings me to . . .
Hopefully you haven't already looked at the papers folded in the card. If you haven't, open them up, take a look, and then come back to this card.
Tears in my eyes, I unfold the papers and find journal entries in Tucker's handwriting, dated the day he left up until two days ago. The entries are not even the slightest bit pretty; they're scribbled, crossed out, almost angry in nature. But as I start to flip through them, the anger seems to become less and less as the days go on. I take a moment to read them, going through the same emotional roller coaster Tucker did writing about Sadie, why she was important to him, the baby and why he was so attached, and at the end, our break up and why that demolished him.