Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Yup.”
“You...uh...find a place to stay okay?” Tucker shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“Yeah. Newer extended-stay hotel out by the highway. It’s got a little kitchenette at least so I can handle some of my meals.” He added that last bit in case Tucker was about to issue some sort of guilt-induced invitation. But he also purposefully didn’t mention the cat—didn’t need to invite opinions on the merits of traveling with a pet.
“Good. Good.” A muscle worked in Tucker’s jaw and an awkward silence stretched out between them. “Uh...see you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.” Luis dug deep for a cheerful tone. It was a day in the field. Might be with Tucker, but he’d survived worse. Surely he could make it a single day in close quarters with the last guy he’d wanted to see.
However, back at the hotel, heating up a packet of rice while Blaze ignored the new treats he’d bought her, his resolve wavered. Why did adult Tucker have to be so darn attractive? And by all counts, a decent person? A decent single person, his traitorous brain added. That little detail did not matter. Divorced did not equal out, even in his most optimistic of imaginings, and for all he knew, Tucker had some pretty rebound cowgirl on the string.
That. He had to keep reminding himself that he didn’t know this Tucker at all, didn’t know how he spent his time, what he valued, what he hoped and feared. And that wasn’t likely to change. Their friendship was buried two decades deep. No sense in unearthing it, even if such a thing was possible. And he had no business being sad about that either because chances were high that Tucker was having no such similar pangs. No, the best he could hope for was making it through these weeks with his emotions firmly in check and his psyche unscathed.
* * *
“Is this all there is?”
It took Tucker a minute to take in Wade’s expectant expression and to realize he meant dinner, not whatever existential crisis Tucker’s brain was mired in. His head was cluttered with so many stray thoughts that he’d had a hard time keeping track of little details like it was Wednesday, and he’d arrived at Heidi’s with only a few minutes to spare before their family dinner tradition.
“It’s two pounds of pasta. Surely you can make do.” Isaac carried the last of the food to the table. As usual, Heidi’s husband had cooked enough for an army, no matter what Wade thought, and his steaming bowls of rotini coated with some sort of creamy from-scratch sauce and seasoned roast vegetables were far more gourmet than what Tucker usually offered up when they repeated this ritual most Sunday nights. The meals had started as a way of easing the custody split transitions on the boys, a tangible way to show them that they were all still family even if they had separate houses, but over the years they’d evolved into something more, part command appearance and part beloved ritual.
“The start of football means I’m hungry all the time.” Wade took his seat at the large oval table adjacent to the open kitchen. The house had been built in the same year as Tucker’s own smaller house down the street, and the great room was similar but more expansive here. However, Heidi and Isaac favored chunky, dark wood furniture and colorful dishes whereas his own setup was more utilitarian.
“No, that’s you every day.” Walker slid into the seat next to Wade, matching grin and equally damp short hair. They’d arrived minutes after Tucker, full of stories of football practice and with twin gigantic appetites.
“Hey! Like that wasn’t you ordering double at lunch.” Wade bumped Walker’s shoulder.
“Ordering?” Heidi placed water glasses in front of both of them before taking her own seat across from Isaac. “Isn’t the fridge stocked with bread and lunch meat for you guys? I thought you were going to pack lunches?”
“Oops. Sorry, Mom.”
“The other guys wanted to go out.” Walker matched Wade’s contrite tone. “And we ate some of that stuff anyway.”
“Thank goodness you’re your dad’s grocery problem for the rest of the week.” Heidi took a sip of the wine Isaac had already set by her place.
“Gee. Thanks.” Tucker took the bowl of pasta Isaac passed and helped himself to a reasonable, non-Wade-sized portion. He’d accepted the wine, a rarity for him, but between Luis’s unexpected reappearance and other work stuff and the twins’ exuberance over all things football, he figured he was entitled. “I did a run to the warehouse store in Bend yesterday. I don’t think you guys are going to starve.”
“Good. Did you get protein powder?” Wade made the same pleading eyes his mother had a wicked talent for.
“Yes, Hercules, I got you some of that brand Coach recommended.” Tucker was fairly sure that Coach’s sheet of tips for nutrition and strength training hadn’t changed in twenty years, but he wasn’t going to cut into Wade’s enthusiasm for following the advice. “How was practice?”