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It takes me a moment, but eventually I get the words out.

“You’re a good man, Tucker. And a good older brother.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, and looks away. He also takes his time before straightening and seemingly ridding himself of any overly sentimental thoughts.

“How was the baby shower?”

“It was great.” I smile, grateful to be able to talk about something more normal. “They said thank you for the gift and the card by the way.”

“Of course.” He waves that away.

“I saw game three with Barry after everyone was gone for the night and he was impressed with everything I noticed.”

Tucker’s smirk is insufferable, and I—idiot that I am—want to kiss it off his handsome face.

“I’m a great teacher,” he boasts.

“Yeah, you are.”

It comes out just a touch too sincere, so I know it’s time to go . . . somewhere else.

“I don’t know if you’re planning to go to the gym, but I’m still on weekend mode, so I’m gonna head up and get some sleep.”

“All right, good night.” He smiles easily, and doesn’t even get up or offer a wave.

I’m equally disappointed and grateful for that.

I’m definitely not ready for any more closeness, just like I’m not ready for another session in the gym, because I have no clue what the fuck is going to happen when we’re back up there. When I’m faced with all his muscles and enthusiasm, and joy over a damn crazy sport.

But then again . . .

It’s easy in the end.

To say a simple good night back.

He doesn’t make it awkward, doesn’t make me feel weird in any way or like I’m disappointing him.

The problem is, that him making everything so easy, being so quietly understanding Thursday night and Friday, and today . . . it’s a fucking turn on, which is by far the weirdest kink I’ve ever thought I had.

He’s not pushing for more, and it seems like maybe he’s always letting me make the first move.

I don’t yet know exactly how I feel about that.

June 21st

When I pick the boys up from daycare, Helen reminds me that the summer break will last one month starting next week.

I act like I already knew that, or at least I try to. I get the boys home, fed, and into their beds for naps on autopilot since my mind is full of thoughts, ideas, plans for what I’m going to do with them for those extra hours every day for that month.

I make a mental note to ask every one of their extracurricular instructors or coaches about summer breaks this week so I can have a new schedule ready to go by Friday. One I can hopefully talk through with Tucker then.

It turns out that’s not needed.

When Tucker gets home, he looks guilty and contrite.

“I got a reminder today about the daycare closing up for summer break and I realized I forgot to tell you.” He’s got one boy in each arm and they’re hugging his neck so tight I wonder how he’s still able to talk, but that’s a daily occurrence, so I should really stop wondering.

“Yeah, Helen told me. Do you know if or when the breaks from swimming, soccer, and skating are happening?”