When I reach the top stair, I peek over to his bed where he's resting with one hand behind his head, his night table lamp providing the only light in the room, and a hardcover book in his hand. I start toward him and that's when he looks my way.
In the dim light, his book casts a shadow over his bare chest, his ruffled hair barely visible, and those soulful eyes of his breaking me in half.
I don't even get a word out before I start breaking down again. Fat ugly tears cascade down my cheeks like a waterfall of despair.
With purpose, Tucker places a book mark in his book, sets it on the nightstand, and then scoots back on the bed, opening the comforter up for me. With a slight nod of his head, he calls me over. I spare no time in accepting his invitation. I join him in bed where I snuggle into his chest and hug him. I hug him hard, feeling comforted by the way his heart pounds against my cheek.
"I'm sorry," I sob, my tears staining his chest.
"I know, babe."
Babe.
That one little word unravels the knots forming in my stomach. The anger I expected to hear from him is nowhere to be found and instead, all I feel is his arm, pulling me in closer.
"I was so mean to you this morning and then you go and do all these nice things for me. I don't deserve them. You should have left boxes in my room instead and told me to pack up."
"Nah, you're not getting rid of me that easily."
I sit up and look at him. There's a light smirk on his face. How can he be so casual about this when I feel like total shit?
"Tucker, I'm serious. I was so mean to you, so inconsiderate. You need to tell me you're mad at me, say something mean back to me."
He shakes his head. "That's not how this works, babe. We got in a little fight. I was a dick to you too. You caught me off guard, said some things I didn't want to hear, and I cut you out. I'm just as much to blame. So let's just call it a truce and start over. I'm sorry for being a dick."
"You weren't a dick. You were upset and I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry." I shake my head. "I really didn't mean it when I said I would shoot off tampon fireworks in your face. I would never do that. I don't even know how to turn a tampon into a firework."
He chuckles. "Really wasn't nervous about the tampon fireworks." He pulls me back down to his chest where I rest my head.
"You got me coffee mugs," I say, not really knowing what else to say.
"I did. Got the impression this morning that the construction coffee mug wasn't your style."
"They're just fine. I was only upset about you not talking to me and I lashed out, inappropriately. I don't handle the cold shoulder very well. If you couldn't tell."
"Noted." He sighs. "But for the record, I wasn't giving you the cold shoulder."
"You didn't talk to me for a few days."
I feel him shrug under me. "Nothing to say."
"You couldn't even say good morning? Or how about a little heads-up about trash day, or maybe a little nod in my direction that you were calling it a night."
He pauses and then says, "Okay, maybe I was giving you a bit of the cold shoulder, but not intentionally."
"I knew it." Playfully, I pinch his side.
"Watch it." He pushes my hand away.
I sigh into his chest and squeeze him again, making sure to let him know how happy I am that we're talking again. "I don't want us to fight again. I've been miserable without my friend. It makes for a very uncomfortable living environment."
"Ah, you're saying that because you want my eggs."
"You can't just cook your eggs and not make me any. It's so unfair. And just so you know, that Chewy Bar did nothing for my appetite."
"Shocking," he says sarcastically. "The way you were parading it around my face, I would have sworn it was the breakfast of your dreams."
"Not so much." Happy Tucker is talking to me again, but feeling a little awkward lying in his bed with him, I sit up and say, "Well, I guess, I'll let you get back to your book." I turn to get out of his bed when he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls my back to his chest. With his arm wrapped tightly around my stomach, he spoons me from behind.
Tucker is spooning me.
"Don't go." His voice is quiet, almost desperate sounding. In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever encountered vulnerable Tucker. He's always been so tough and rugged, a man's man. So, instead of going downstairs to my books, I lean forward slightly and turn off Tucker's light and rest my head on his pillow, giving in to his unexpected request.