Page 44 of When the Sun Rises
I rubbed at the back of my neck as I winced. “It couldn’t have helped with me putting pressure on you. I’ve never felt like this forsomeone else before, and I got ahead of myself trying to explore that feeling more, but you paid the price when things started moving too fast. I’m really sorry, Tucker.”
“Do you mean the other night?”
I nodded, swirling my own untouched beer. A revolt was happening in my stomach, and I knew adding the cool liquid wouldn’t mix well. “I’ve been pushing you from the beginning, and I feel like I finally pushed you past the point you were comfortable, but you were putting up with it for my sake.”
My eyes squeezed shut as that same cold rush of dread spread over me from the memory of Tucker’s flaccid cock in my hand. But before I could drown in those thoughts, a warm hand wrapped around my wrist, and I looked up into Tucker’s sweet, honeyed gaze.
“What happened that night wasn’t on you, Jackson. I really need you to understand that. You have nothing to apologize for. I was the one to initiate what happened, and I should have ended it way sooner, but…” He swallowed hard, his eyes bouncing back and forth over my face as he struggled to get the words out. “I wasn’t in a good head space from the beginning.”
The sharp sting in my chest wasn’t surprising, but it was unwelcomed. Those moments with Tucker just outside of Goldie’s stall had been incredible in the beginning and was the first time I’d felt like we were finally moving in the right direction. He’d kissed me first. The want and need had been a nearly tangible thing between us, and he was saying that hadn’t been real? Maybe he saw the question on my face because he continued without me uttering a word.
“We’d just shared something really wonderful by being there for the birth of Goldie, and I don’t know… I was feeling so close to you, but at the same time not being able to picture a future where I got to have you by my side. You’re so much younger than me, and you’re my employee, and I’m all sorts of fucked up. I guess I was hoping I’d be able to forget all that like the first time we were together. But I couldn’t get out of my head, and the more I fought it, the worse it got till…”
“Yeah,” I whispered, not wanting to relive those moments again.
“It’s shitty, I know, and after everything else, I should be telling you that we need to end this. Go back to being just simple foreman and hand. But you’re under my skin, and the thought of trying to get rid of you is more painful than it has any right to be.”
Hope flared stupid bright in my chest at his words, and I could barely get the words out. “So, what now?”
Without realizing it, I’d shifted my hand, and Tucker was threading his fingers through mine. They were rough and calloused, so much like my own, but the simple act of them slotting between mine felt like a homecoming I’d never known before.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I’m asking you to be patient with me. I haven’t figured out how to reconcile the pull I have to you and the love I still have for Raleigh. I can’t promise I won’t have moments where I freak out because I feel like I’m having to choose, but I want to try. Whatever this is… I want to try.”
I swallowed hard, pushing back the well of emotion sitting in my throat at his words. “Yeah, okay… But I need you to know I’m never going to ask you to choose, Tucker. What you and Raleigh had was special. I need you to know I see that.”
Tucker fingered out the chain around his neck from under his shirt with his free hand and quickly wrapped it around his ring. “I know.”
His voice was thick, full of every unsaid thing between us. When one tear began to trail its way down his cheek, he quickly dashed it away. Then he grabbed his beer and sat back in his seat, letting go of my hand in the process.
“So, you used to be a cattleman?” he asked, taking a small sip.
And just like that, something that had been out of place shifted back to right. I let out a wry chuckle, grabbing my own bottle and taking my first drink of the evening. “I thought you might have missed that when I mentioned it earlier.”
“I don’t miss much when it comes to you,” he murmured aroundthe lip of his bottle, and my stomach swooped low in my belly as my heart took off in my chest.
We ended up talking for an hour after that, just letting the conversation flow where it would as we slowly got to know each other a little better. Just two men seeing where this thing between us would lead. When Tucker walked me to his front door, the sun had already dipped low below the horizon, and the blanket of night was just setting in. A chill on the breeze made me shiver as I stepped out onto the front porch.
“Jackson?”
I glanced behind me, Tucker’s full frame almost silhouetted by the warm glow inside his cabin. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his large arms over his chest.
“Will you wear my jacket again?”
My whole body flushed hot making the cool air a distant memory. “You want me to?”
He gave me a slow nod before grabbing at the chain around his neck again. “I want my claim on you, too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TUCKER
Something itched deep in my soul, and I crossed my arms, drumming my fingers on one of them against the unwavering sensation as I watched Jackson crimp the final bit of wiring needed to complete the last section of fencing. A huge storm had blown through the area the other night and while most of the property hadn’t gotten any damage, Mack had notified me that part of the fencing in one of the pastures where we turned the bachelor herd out had completely come down. We’d had to install three new posts and all new wiring, which had taken us nearly two days to completely repair, but Jackson had just put the finishing touches on it.
His blond hair was darkened with sweat around his temples, and as he stood up from his hunched position, he ran his forearm over his forehead, smearing dirt and grime in the process. The muscles in his back bunched and flexed with the motion, making that low brewing feeling inside me that much more unbearable. Normally, I’d probably be salivating like a dog with a bone for the picture Jackson made in his cut-off tee and wrangler jeans, dirty and sweat slicked. But he wasn’t wearing my fucking jacket.
It was petty. Real fucking petty, honestly. The early afternoonsun was blaring down on us, and it’d been unusually hot since that storm rolled through, so there hadn’t been a need for the thick, insulated work jacket. But Jackson felt imprinted on me, like even without the chain around my neck, he’d be forever woven into me, and I selfishly wanted the same for him. Even if no one else knew, I wanted to know he was wearing something of mine.
Of course, he hadn’t made matters any better for me when he’d walked into breakfast this morning wearing his old jacket. I’d been in a piss-poor mood, no thanks to Jackson, but also because Nighttime had relentlessly hounded me the past two nights. Her claws had found a soft spot in my armor, and she’d twisted and prodded against it, making the guilt swirling inside me over what I was doing with him so much more relentless while I laid awake staring at the ceiling. That was partially why I was currently situated on the end of the tailgate to my truck. The fatigue was mind-numbing, but all the muscles in my body felt stiff and weighed down, and every movement was like trying to wade through sludge.
