I whip around, and there’s Tuck.
It takes a moment to catch my breath as my eyes drink him in.
He looks pale, with dark shadows under his eyes. His hair is a mess, his scruff is now a beard, and his dress shirt is halfway buttoned up. There’s a bandage on his chest, and I gasp. Before I can ask him what it is, he rushes toward me, his gaze lingering on my face, then landing on my stomach. He weaves on his feet, finds his footing, and then takes my hands.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you okay?” I ask.
“Just dizzy. I’ll be fine.”
“What happened to your chest?”
“It’s nothing.” His throat bobs as he swallows.
The moments tick by as we stare at each other. A warm feeling pulses through my veins as his eyes refuse to let mine go. It feels like forever since I saw him.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
He licks his lips as he gathers himself. “Francesca. I thought that losing my career would be my zero hour, but ...” He leans his head forward and inhales.
Unease washes over me. He looks ill. “You’renotokay. Are you drunk?”
He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart. Listen to me. It’s you; you’re my zero hour. I can’t lose you. Jesus. I’m wrong. I’m fucking wrong. I’m messed up, and that’s forever, but you make it okay. I’m scared, but you’re the optimist, the yin to my yang, peas and carrots—sorry to be lame, but it’s something Jasper says, and it fits for me and you. I don’t know what the future is, if I’ll go down a dark road, but I need you in my life. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll try. I’ll try; I’ll be good for you; I’ll be the best man I can. We know what darkness looks like. We lived it, but we won’t—we’ll be the best fucking parents in the fucking world ...” He stops to breathe, and his eyes sweep the crowd and land on Levi, then the sculpture.
A growl comes from his chest as he glances down at me. “Is that statue supposed to be you?”
“Yes.”
Red rushes up his face, and his eyes glitter. He drops my hands. “Stay here.”
“Tuck. Let it go.” I follow him as he stands over the sculpture. His nostrils flare, and his fists clench. Levi shrinks back as Tuck stalks to him.
“This is a gallery, Mr.Avery. It’s just art,” he says as he backpedals. “No need to get physical.”
Tuck leans into his face, their noses nearly touching. “I’m not touching you. You’re the dirt on the bottom of my shoe.” He raises his fist and slams it into his palm, and Levi’s eyes bug out.
Jasper parts the crowd that has gathered, running as he calls Tuck’s name. He trips over someone’s shoe and shoves into Tuck. Tuck teeters, trying to find his footing, and falls toward the sculpture. Jasper’s shoulder hits the stone; then Tuck falls on top of him, his head connecting with the marble.
I run over to him, pushing people out of the way as they try to help. He was already sick, and now this? Jasper groans and moves away from Tuck and rubs his arm, holding it at the elbow and close to his chest.
“Dammit. My shoulder is dislocated,” he grunts, and I tell him to move as I reach for Tuck.
His left temple and cheek hit the edge, and blood drips down his face. His eyes are shut, his mouth parted.
“He’s knocked out,” Jasper rasps, kneeling down with me.
The crowd murmurs under their breath, and I shout, “Someone call 911!”
Without moving him, I check him for other injuries. “Tuck, darling,” I whisper. “I’m here; I’m not leaving you, I promise ...” I push away my scream, striving for calm.
“Is he okay?” I ask Jasper.
He checks his pulse. “He’s breathing. It’s a head injury. He’s used to those.”
“He hit a rock, Jasper,” I snap. “Not another player.”
He winces. “I was moving too fast; I’m sorry. I thought he was gonna pummel that dude.”
“He wasn’t.”