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)
Not caring. Right. Without intending to, he coughed, still unable to look away, and that was enough to draw Tucker’s attention as he shut the door.
“That’s Walker and Wade. I need to get some more recent pics in here. Walker’s always on me to stop showing off baby pictures whenever he stops by.”
“Uh-huh.” He managed a noncommittal sound, but something of his unease must have shown on his face because Tucker frowned.
“Damn it, Luis. Am I supposed to pretend that they don’t exist? How precisely would you like me to play this?”
“Not sure,” Luis admitted. Then the question that had been searing his brain all morning finally escaped. “How’s the wife?”
* * *
A strangled sound echoed in his small office, and it took Tucker a moment to realize that it came from himself.
“Wife?” He blinked. This was one of those inevitable conversations, but he still was far from ready for it.
“You know, Heidi, that sweet thing you ran off with when you weren’t even old enough to buy booze yet? Are Walker and Wade the only two mini-Tuckers?” Luis’s gaze was still on the collage of the twins through the years, God knew what running through his mind. Couldn’t be jealousy, not after all these years. Condemnation maybe, censure that he’d waited almost two decades to dole out.
Hell, he hadn’t even ever replied to Tucker’s message attempting to explain what had happened. Not that he’d entirely understood it himself, but he’d tried. And all he got back was silence. So, Tucker had been forced to imagine his judgment, picture his reactions. Had he yelled? Punched something? Not cared enough for anger?
Tucker might never know his initial response, but this sarcasm was pretty good proof that it hadn’t been positive. And Luis not knowing anything about who Tucker was now was also evidence that he hadn’t been social-media stalking him, wasn’t interested enough to go snooping. Not that Tucker had done that either—he hadn’t wanted to know, hadn’t wanted to see grown-up Luis with a life of his own. Seeing him frequently in his dreams was bad enough.
“We divorced. About seven years ago now.” He kept his response brief because no way was Luis entitled to the whole story.
“My...condolences?” Luis’s mouth quirked, like he was unsure of the polite response. And that was okay. That made two of them.
“Thanks.” Tucker gave the same response he’d handed out over and over back then when well-meaning people had crawled out of the baseboards to express sorrow. “And yes, we only had the twins. We split custody, and while I’m not one to overshare at work, I’m not about to deny the presence of the two most important people in my life simply to make you more comfortable.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Feet shuffling restlessly, Luis looked more ready to stage a fast getaway than to continue this conversation.
“Sit.” Tucker pointed at the visitor’s chair near his desk. “Let’s admit neither of us really knows who the other is right now. And that’s fine. No one’s demanding we forgive and forget.”
Luis muttered under his breath, something about hard to forget, but then settled into the chair, leaving Tucker to seek out his own office chair behind his L-shaped desk.
“If it helps, you’re not the only one with some... baggage.” Damn it. He was not going to unpack everything that stood between them, all the years and hurts and wrong assumptions, not now. His heart pinched, memories of those last few tense conversations, ultimatums and arguments making his chest muscles go tight.
“Fair enough.” Clenching and unclenching his hands, Luis stretched before nodding. Clearly, he was as uncomfortable as Tucker, but they had to find a way forward.
“But here we are. We’re not stupid teens any longer, thank God. And I’ve been in this office too many damn years to let any personal issues interfere with my work. We simply need to focus on the job at hand.”
“Agreed. I’m still shocked your family let you off the ranch, though. Seeing you here...working together...that I didn’t see coming.”
“That makes two of us. Figured you’d end up going Hollywood, not wildfire chasing.”
“Just because I was a theater nerd at sixteen doesn’t mean I stayed one.” Luis gave him a defiant stare. “And you know I did the fire explorers, same as you. Wasn’t only in it to be your sidekick.”
“Point taken.” And honestly, Tucker was guilty of that assumption—he’d been the one to sign up for shadowing the local volunteer fire department, part of their high school outreach program. Back then, Luis had been more interested in the allure of fireworks and bonfires, not putting out fires. “And as to your question, my brother runs the ranch with Dad now. They don’t need me underfoot.”
That was the understatement of the fucking century, a chasm he had no interest in exploring with Luis.