You Don't Know Me by Susan May Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

vulnerable.
    “So what they don’t like you. I don’t care,” she said, shrugging.
    And then he made it worse. “You know, it wouldn’t be terrible if they liked me.”
    He knew she didn’t mean for her laugh to be so harsh, but it cut a swath through him. “Oh, Tuck. Really ? ”
    He tightened his jaw a bit. “Right. What was I thinking?” He put the car into gear. “Let’s go to the harbor. I’ll give you a pep talk.”
    Then he winked because he needed her smile.
    Colleen played an outstanding game that night, and he cheered her on, despite her words burning inside him. Especially as he watched the entire row of Deckers eating popcorn, laughing. Like they belonged together. Like they were happy. Mrs. Decker had surely seen him as she entered the gym, but she didn’t invite him to sit with them.
    He wasn’t that unlikable, was he?
    Tuck set the egg-crusted plates in the hot, sudsy water to soak. Added water to the egg pan and set it on the counter.
    Once upon a time, their dishwasher worked. But that was when his dad lived with them, when he could fix nearly anything.
    Except his marriage.
    Tuck had stopped trying to figure out which weekend he might spend with his father. Truthfully, it seemed his old man couldn’t care less. Sure, he gave Tuck a free pass to Sugar Ridge, where he worked maintenance. And Tuck had seen him on the sideline at a few of last year’s competitions. But only because he worked the lifts or the snowmaking equipment or ran the graders.
    Tucker’s memories of the life they’d once had were fading.
    Behind him, the lid on the pot rattled. By the time he turned around, more milky foam covered the stove. The air reeked of burned pasta.
    He turned off the heat and moved the pot away to let it sit. Then he dove back into the dishes. The water scalded his hands as he scrubbed at the egg residue.
    So what they don’t like you. I don’t care.
    He couldn’t erase the words, that expression on Colleen’s face, from his brain. As if she might be dating him to spite her parents.
    Yeah, that felt good.
    What he really wanted was to knock on their door, hold out his hand, and apologize for what Mrs. Decker saw going on in his Jeep in the lighthouse parking lot at lunchtime on Tuesday. Not like he hadn’t gone farther with a few other girls. But they weren’t Colleen Decker, daughter of the almost mayor, part of one of the most respected families in town. Everyone knew Nathan and Annalise Decker. And the fact that their daughter liked him almost made him feel . . . like he wasn’t such a loser.
    He rinsed the plate, set it in the drying rack.
    It wasn’t like he expected them to invite him over for Thanksgiving dinner, but . . . okay, that might be nice. A real family dinner like the kind he used to have.
    Sheesh, he was turning into a Hallmark commercial. He rinsed the next plate.
    So what they don’t like you. I don’t care.
    Someday he was going to show them that he wasn’t what they saw—an irresponsible board bum trying to steal their daughter.
    He rinsed the last plate and grabbed a towel, wiping the dishes dry before he added them to the cupboard. He drained the water from the sink, then grabbed a colander for the pasta. It fell out into the colander in one rubber lump.
    When he rinsed it, the pasta loosened. He added it back to the pot, then opened the fridge. Sure enough, the milk smelled like it had gone bad a week ago. He found a container of old margarine, cleaned it out, added some water, and managed a weak replica of macaroni and cheese. Scooping it onto a plate, he took it to his bedroom.
    He’d kept his brother Jazz’s Tom Sims posters plastering the room as a way of keeping him alive. Tucker straightened the blue denim comforter before he sat on it. Probably he should clean his room—at least try to separate the clean laundry from the dirty, now a jumbled mess on his floor.
    He hit the Play button on his old television/VCR unit, and up popped an old snowboarding