Wicked Company

Chapter Twenty-Seven

~ Daniella's POV ~

"Tucker-"

"No. It's my fucking fault. I killed her. Don't you fucking get that?"

I let silence fall in response, because I had no words. He was right, but not in the truth kind of way. To him, he had let her down. To him, he had killed her because he hadn't answered. And I understood that. Because to me, I had let my uncle die. I hadn't done enough. I had let him go.

I knew nothing I could say would change his mind when he didn't want to believe it. He wasn't ready to let the blame go. Every time I went out, he always pushed to make sure I got home safely - even when he hated me. Because of his past. Guilt is something only you can forgive yourself for, and I understood that all too well.

How could I talk him down from a ledge when I stood on one as well? I was a lot of things, but a hypocrite wasn't one.

So instead, I changed the subject, desperate to make him smile again, so afraid that if I let him continue sinking in his own self-loathing, he'd drown in himself.

"Why the Oreos?"

His eyes immediately softened and his lip curved into a half-assed smile.

Thank fuck.

"Ren and I met in middle school, but when we started dating in high school, I had just gotten my first job flipping burgers when I asked her out."

His hand dropped from its death grip on the wheel and he ran a hand through his hair, securing it into a bun before speaking again.

"God, I was so excited. Stupid, but my excitement took over. I didn't care that I had only worked one shift on that first paycheck, so when I went to get food for the night, all I could afford was a damn pack of Oreos and a half gallon of milk. Fuck, we were too hungry to care, so we ate the whole pack. Got real damn sick from all the sugar, too." He chuckled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as a genuine smile took over his face.

"But it became a tradition," I guessed aloud, smiling at the past innocence peeking through his usually pained face.

"It became a tradition," he repeated, huffing another laugh before his eyes turned up to me.

The smile lines in the corner slowly mellowed back out; his lips leveled beneath his beard. His face became peaceful the longer his eyes stayed on me, it's tight expression no longer that of a haunted man. His shoulders relaxed and he shifted his legs towards me, propping himself to lean back against his door. When his breathing became softer and no longer strained, he pushed forward and kissed my cheek, his warm lips on my skin more inviting than ever.

"Thank you for not pitying me like everyone else seems to."

He moved his lips to my forehead before relaxing back on his side of the car, started it after a slow breath, and pulled out onto the road.

My mind roamed back to the first night he'd picked me up - a year ago, when I'd been nearly too drunk to stand, and absolutely too drunk to eat. I'd spotted the pack of cookies in the backseat and nearly died trying to eat them, but then it hit me what they'd been for.

I gasped softly. "I'm an asshole."

Tucker chuckled next to me, stopping at a light. "No shit. Tell me something I don't know."