Not to me, though. I’d rather pretend he never even existed.
“His sister posted a photo of him last night,” Brooke says, her eyes still glued to her phone screen.
I walk over to where she’s standing, ignoring my rapidly beating heart. When she still doesn’t bother looking up, I thrust my hand between her face and her phone, snapping my fingers. She hates it when I do that. “Brooke.”
Brooke’s head snaps up, her brown eyes narrow. “What?”
“Show me the photo.” My voice is surprisingly calm, considering how jittery I suddenly feel.
She goes to the search box, enters in Tucker’s sister’s name—Stella McCloud—and clicks on Stella’s profile. “Looks like they had a family get-together over the weekend, and Tucker came home for it,” she explains as she starts scrolling, looking for those photos. “Ah, here they are—”
I snatch the phone out of her hand before she can say anything else, earning an irritated, “hey!” for my efforts, but I ignore her. I’m too hell bent on finding the photo of Tucker.
Brooke’s right, I realize as I start examining each and every photo—forty-eight in all. There was definitely a family get-together over the weekend for the McCloud clan, and let me tell you, their clan is a big one. They’re one of the largest families in the area. Tucker has lots of siblings—six besides him—and he’s smack dab in the middle. The middle child always craves attention. It’s a known fact.
And Tucker was the biggest attention hog I knew. From his antics on the football field and on social media, I’m guessing that’s still true.
I stop on a photo of the entire family gathered together, and I spot him immediately. Very back row, on the far right. Tall and imposing with those broad shoulders and the light brown hair and the laughing eyes. Ugh.
He’s still ridiculously good looking.
It’s so annoying.
The photos are endless, and I’m surprised to see every single McCloud sibling is there. Only three out of the six remain in town, including Stella, the youngest. She’s a teacher at the local elementary school, and Wyatt, is the football coach at the high school in the next town over. Wyatt is considered one of the most appealing bachelors left in the area—thirty-four, still single, attractive and with a good job. Women call him the uncatchable catch.
Just like his stupid twin brother, Tucker.
My ex-boyfriend. My high school sweetheart. The boy who took me to all the big dances, who made out with me in the cab of his truck after every single game, who snuck through my window in the middle of the night so he could sleep with me, even for just an hour. The first boy to tell me he loved me. The boy who gave me my first orgasm. The boy who told me he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t have me in his life.
This is the same boy who got a football scholarship from a D-1 school and broke up with me, all in the same day. So excuse the above fact I just listed. He didn’t take me to all the big dances. I didn’t go to his senior prom, but neither did he.
Little consolation for how badly he destroyed me.
“He looks great, right?” Brooke says, her innocent question breaking through my nostalgic thoughts. “Actually, they all do. The McClouds are a good looking bunch.”
I pause on a photo of the brothers, four in all. Hunter, Colton, Tucker and Wyatt, their arms around each other’s shoulders, matching smiles on their faces. Yes, they’re all attractive. Hunter and Colton are both married, and Hunter already has children. The twins are single and handsome, but only one McCloud makes my heart thump wildly and my breath catch.
And all I’m doing is looking at a photo of him on Facebook, for the love of God.
“He looks phony,” I say as I hand the phone back to Brooke, the only insult I can come up with in my muddled by Tucker brain. It’s starting to hit me that we’re in the same state. We’re in the same town. I could bump into him at any given moment and I wonder what I might do if that happened. Hug him?
Or punch him in the face?
“Phony?” Brooke actually snorts, something she normally doesn’t do. My older sister has her shit together. She owns Brooke’s Blooms, and she is the most popular florist in town. Oh, and she just so happens to be married to one of the hottest men alive, Brody Chabot. They are so in love, it’s a little sickening.
Fine, I’m just jealous.
“Slick. Almost too perfect,” I say, redefining my phony statement. “Look at his hair.” He has amazing hair. Soft. He liked it when I ran my fingers through it. I’d be sitting on the couch and he’d rest his head in my lap, staring up at me with his beautiful blue eyes, practically begging me to stroke his hair. And I always would…
Brooke comes to stand beside me, peering over my shoulder. “At least he still has hair.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” I ask incredulously, wondering if I’d still find Tucker attractive even if he was bald. Probably. “He’s not that old.”
“There were a lot of guys at my ten year reunion who were already balding,” Brooke points out. “You said the same thing about yours.”
Tucker didn’t even show up to Brooke’s ten year reunion—they graduated in the same class. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’m trying not to focus on his extraordinarily good looking face.”