“—so, you want to eventually learn how to use manual mode,” Tucker was saying. “There are a few different modes on the camera, and all of them—”
Avery laughed, and Shanna’s attention swung back to her.
“What’s funny, Mom?”
“Tell her about your trips, Tucker. Not the camera.”
“Trips? I—” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve been on any trips. Last I knew, we were…” His voice dropped, face softening. “Last I knew, we’d just graduated, and the weather was nice.”
For a moment, Avery couldn’t breathe. All those years. His entire career. He really couldn’t remember?
“Do you know what happened?” Tucker posed the question above the sound of the bubbling pot, and Avery thought her heart might tip right out of her chest and fall onto the floor. “I can’t remember.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Avery turned away from both of them. Back to the stove, and the spaghetti. Back to her thoughts. She was dropping the ball, and she knew it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up.
“So you can take all kinds of different pictures? Like with a cell phone?” Shanna asked.
And to Avery’s stark, powerful relief, Tucker answered.
He was good with her. He’d never wanted children, so his patience was impressive. Good enough to keep Shanna talking while Avery finished preparing the spaghetti, warmed up the sauce, and brought it all over to the table.
For the first time in years, she sat next to Tucker at the table and ate.
It hurt. And it felt strangely okay. And then it hurt again. She got through it, just the way she’d gotten through the last ten years. When they were all finished, Tucker stood and cleared the plates, taking them over to the sink and filling it up with water.
Shanna watched him go.
Avery put a hand on her elbow. “Grab your homework, honey. Let’s get started.”
When Tucker slid into his seat at the table twenty minutes later, she and Shanna were working through the last of the work the teacher had sent home. Shanna loved math and needed an extra hand with spelling. Avery put down the last flashcard on the table and gave her daughter a big smile.
“Give me a hug, and head to bed. You need anything before you go?”
Shanna stole a quick glance at Tucker. “Nope. Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Tucker.”
Her footsteps on the stairs signaled that they were finally alone.
The air between them seemed taut with expectation—like both of them were waiting for something huge to happen. It pressed in on Avery in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
“Let me check your head,” she said finally, and went over to where Tucker sat in his seat. He straightened his back and stayed perfectly still while she brushed her fingers through his hair. “You’ve got a big knot where you hit.” The bump on his head looked red and sore, and when she made the slightest contact with it, he winced. “How are you feeling otherwise?”
He looked up at her, and those green eyes set her on fire all over again.
“Doesn’t feel great.” A smile played at the corner of Tucker’s lips, and Avery’s stomach did a quick flip-flop. “My head’s throbbing and my brain…” He lifted both hands in the air. “I’m missing some things.”
She dropped her hand to her side. “Rest is the best thing for you. But you need to tell me immediately if anything changes. Anything at all.” Avery had to get away from him for a few minutes, but a worry nagged at her. “Come on upstairs. We’ve got a guest room.”
Avery turned to go, but Tucker caught her hand. The sensation was electric, as shocking as being startled out of a bad dream and finding herself safe and sound and whole. She spun around.
“What is it?”
“What happened?” He looked so confused, sitting there at the table, and so infuriatingly handsome, with his green eyes shining in the kitchen light. “After we graduated. Can you clue me in?”
Exhaustion settled over her shoulders like a heavy weight, pushing her down into the floor and down through it, down into the center of the earth. It had been a long ten years without Tucker. She hadn’t thought, not in a million years, that he’d show up on her porch tonight.
“I can’t. Not tonight.” Avery drew herself up again. “Let me show you the guest room so you can get some sleep.”
“Avery—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Leave it there.”
He managed to keep quiet all the way upstairs to the three cozy bedrooms on the second floor. The master bedroom sat at the end of the hall—that was Avery’s. Shanna’s room cuddled up next to it. The guest room was closest to the stairs. Avery pushed the door open, glad she’d taken the time to make up the bed when they moved in. It would be more than enough for Tucker.
“The next door over is the guest bathroom,” she said, her hand on the door.
He stepped inside, then turned to face her.
“I don’t remember.” Pain shone in his eyes. “I just don’t remember.”
“You will soon enough.”
Avery went down the hall to her own room, leaving him standing there. The guest room door shut with a whisper and a click before she reached her own. Thank god. The bedroom greeted her, quiet and warm. She closed the door and flipped the lock, leaned back against it, and for the first time in a long time, Avery started to cry.
3
Tucker slept like the dead.
He’d wanted to stay awake, puzzling out what on earth had happened with Avery, but the moment he kicked off his jeans and crawled under the covers, he found the problem significantly harder to hold on to. He could figure it out in the morning. Anxiety kicked up at the last moment, tightening his throat—something was wrong,
