Feel the Fire (Hotshots 3)

“I still think about them. The sweet ones especially.”

It took Luis a minute to figure out that Tucker meant Mami’s cooking, not the memories, which indeed could be sweet enough to make his teeth ache. “Be jealous. She made several types for my birthday a couple of months back. I was full for days.”

Tucker pulled into a small hut with a drive-up window. Not a chain place and the signage had a distinctly homemade feel, but the toasty smell of fresh ground coffee beans was promising.

“Triple shot, extra foam, no sugar, and whatever you’re getting.” He passed Tucker a twenty.

“You don’t have to pay.”

“It’s no problem.” Luis tried to tell him with a pointed look that this wasn’t worth arguing over. “Get whatever your regular is.”

Frowning, Tucker relayed the order to the young barista, adding an iced hazelnut latte in a mumble that made Luis smile.

“Your health kick is making me feel guilty for my sugar addiction,” Tucker grumbled as the barista turned to make their drinks.

“You always did love dessert most,” Luis teased before sobering. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell Tucker a little of his truth. “My dad died a few years back. Complications from diabetes.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. He was a good guy.”

“He was.” They hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but that didn’t stop Luis from missing him every day. “Too many years behind a desk for the bank took their toll. Died a little over six months after taking his retirement. I’m not saying I never indulge in sweet stuff anymore, but I’m a lot more careful.”

That applied to so much in his life beyond sugar—he wasn’t as brash and reckless these days in all areas. And he wasn’t sure what to make of the part of himself that wanted Tucker to see that, to see him as an adult and not some flicker of the kid he’d once been.

“I can see that. My dad’s heart attack was a similar wakeup call for the whole family. Mom changed how she cooked for his recovery, and I picked up some of that. A lot fewer fries, that’s for sure.”

Luis’s mouth went chalky and dry. As always, he tried to push away the memory of the hasty phone call when Tucker had revealed his dad’s health crisis as the reason he couldn’t make the move they’d planned for years. He’d always admired Tucker’s family-first stance, but hell, it had hurt back then.

“So anyway, with Dad sick, no way can I leave. Not now.” Tucker’s voice had crackled, a bad connection for even worse news.

Luis slumped down on his bed, glad he was alone. “But—”

“They need me.” Tucker’s voice was firm. It was deeper now, subtle changes after a year apart, and Luis missed him with a fierceness that had him hugging a pillow tight against his chest, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“So do I. I need you too.” It was true. He needed Tucker, needed his smile, the way he grounded Luis, needed him to keep Luis steady.

“I know you do, but we’ll have the whole rest of our lives together.” Tucker was whispering now, cautious even though Luis had heard the door to his room close.

“Which is going to start when?” Luis hated the edge to his tone, but he liked even less feeling as though Tucker was patting him on the head, dismissing his concerns so easily.

“I...don’t know.” Tucker’s exhale echoed across the crackly connection, static that scraped down Luis’s tense spine. “Might be a while.”

“I can’t keep waiting, Tucker. It’s not fair.”

And that was where Luis had to end the memory, had to stop before he remembered all too well his role in how things had ended—his ultimatum, his own failure to be there when Tucker needed him. It was no wonder he had been in such a bad mood the past few days—all those old frustrations resurfacing along with a healthy dose of self-condemnation that he’d thought he’d put behind him.

“Your dad’s still around though?” Luis forced himself back to the present, to making small talk.

“Yeah. Moves a lot slower these days, and Aaron does most of the ranch business, but he’s still with us. Guess that’s a blessing.” Tucker didn’t sound entirely sure, and there was probably a story there but before he could pry, their drinks arrived in the window.

“I’ve got no idea how you can drink hot coffee in this heat.” Tucker shook his head as he slipped a tip in the jar on the windowsill.

“Tastes better.” Luis laughed. “Mike and I had this argument all the time. He always said...” Fuck it. He trailed off awkwardly because he had not meant to mention Mike at all to Tucker, ever.

“Mike?” Tucker’s question as he pulled away from the coffee hut was soft, curious without being demanding.

“Boyfriend.”

“Ah.” A Grand Canyon’s worth of meaning existed in that single syllable, and hell if Luis could unpack it all.