Us After You Read online

  Contents

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  1. Tucker

  2. Tucker

  3. Tucker

  4. Tucker

  5. Tucker

  6. Sage

  7. Sage

  8. Sage

  9. Tucker

  10. Tucker

  11. Sage

  12. Tucker

  13. Sage

  14. Sage

  15. Tucker

  16. Sage

  17. Sage

  18. Tucker

  19. Sage

  20. Sage

  21. Tucker

  22. Tucker

  23. Sage

  24. Sage

  25. Tucker

  26. Tucker

  27. Sage

  28. Tucker

  29. Sage

  30. Tucker

  31. Sage

  32. Tucker

  33. Sage

  34. Tucker

  35. Tucker

  36. Tucker

  37. Sage

  38. Sage

  39. Sage

  40. Tucker

  41. Tucker

  42. Sage

  43. Sage

  44. Tucker

  45. Tucker

  46. Tucker

  47. Tucker

  48. Sage

  49. Sage

  50. Sage

  51. Sage

  52. Tucker

  53. Sage

  54. Tucker

  55. Tucker

  56. Sage

  57. Tucker

  58. Tucker

  59. Tucker

  60. Tucker

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Excerpts

  Almost Perfect

  Uncut

  Unlike Any Other

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Copyright © 2020 by Claudia Burgoa

  Cover by: By Hang Le

  Edited by: Rebecca Barney

  Julie Deaton

  All rights reserved.

  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on your personal e-reader.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored into or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, organizations, media, places, events, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Sign up for my newsletter to receive updates about upcoming books and exclusive excerpts.

  www.claudiayburgoa.com

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Standalones

  Us After You

  Once Upon a Holiday

  Someday, Somehow

  Chasing Fireflies

  Something Like Hate

  Then He Happened

  Maybe Later

  My One Despair

  My One Regret

  Found

  Fervent

  Flawed

  Until I Fall

  Finding My Reason

  Christmas in Kentbury

  * * *

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  * * *

  Unexpected Series

  Uncharted

  Uncut

  Undefeated

  Unlike Any Other

  Decker the Halls

  To Caroline, thank you for everything. Your friendship, your patience and your support.

  Tucker is for you.

  Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get–only with what you are expecting to give—which is everything. —Katharine Hepburn

  1

  Tucker

  I’ve never considered myself good, much less great, at anything. Knowing this has been one of my greatest strengths. It’s taught me how to work, to pay attention to details, and to embrace the things I can’t control or change.

  Instead of swimming against the current, I make sure everything runs smoothly. Like today. Two of my best friends, Zeke and Rocco, have been off for quite some time, and before anything bad happens, I act. Solving the issues before they become major problems is part of who I am.

  What do I do?

  Organize a trip so they can party and blow off some steam. We’ve done this since we met. Back, when we were seventeen, seniors in high school, the world belonged to us. It’s not a joke. Our paths crossed when we all became part of a program for troubled teenagers. Music was supposed to be our therapy. Creating a band, our hobby.

  However, the hobby became a trend. In a blink of an eye, Sinners of Seattle took over the world. We ruled everything. I was the lead guitarist and vocalist. People worshiped me—us. In fact, some continue doing so.

  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t take my fans for granted. I’m grateful, and I always give back. Though, after we fucked up, the band broke up, and now, we have to find other means to party—and be discreet.

  I’m an expert at it. The guys need to blow steam, I organize the best getaway. Once it’s all ready, I text Hannah. She’s not only my best friend, but also the former keyboardist and vocalist of the band. Furthermore, she’s the most responsible person in our group. If someone can keep us straight during this trip, it’d be her.

  Tuck: We haven’t hung out with you since you came back from your trip.

  Nana: Come over to San Francisco.

  Her suggestion would be cool if it wasn’t for the fact that partying in San Francisco would be dangerous. The media is always hounding us, searching for a good story to post on the internet.

  Tuck: Cancun?

  Nana: Are you inviting me to go with you or asking if I know how the weather is in Cancun?

  Tuck: We’re planning a trip. Why don’t you come with us? It’ll be fun.

  Nana: When?

  Tuck: This upcoming Friday.

  Nana: Sorry, Tuck, I can’t. This weekend I’m busy. Actually, I’m in the middle of a project.

  I grunt because sometimes she’s too fucking responsible. Which is exactly why I need her this weekend with me. I’m not taking no for an answer.

  Tuck: I heard about it. You’re dating (like a civilian) for work.

  Tuck: Read what I just texted. It doesn’t make sense. Why would you want to do it?

  Tuck: Who are you dating anyway?

  I should text Alex Spearman. That dude is in love with her. If I say something, he might step in and stop her plan. Then she won’t have any excuse to skip this trip. The guy is so in love with Hannah, it doesn’t surprise me he waited a year for her.

  Nana: You should stop dating like a rock star. It’s overrated. : wink emoji :

  Tuck: Come with us, please!

  The dots on the phone dance, but she doesn’t answer. So, I send another text trying to persuade her. I even use her nickname.

  Tuck: Nana, seriously, I need backup. You’re the only one who can save me.

  Nana:
What about Ethan?

  I drum my fingers against my desk. That’s a great question. Where the fuck is Ethan? Well, Nana, thanks to you, he’s been finding himself. Which means, he can’t be there for me this weekend either.

  After he broke up with his fiancée last year—thank fuck—he’s changed. It’s like he’s fucking growing up too and leaving us behind. Just the way Nana did. Everything is changing so quickly, no wonder Zeke and Rocco are a fucking mess.

  The more I hope that we’ll be back together, not just as a family but as a band, the more I realize it’s an impossible dream. If I could go back in time when we started Sinners of Seattle, I’d do everything differently. Not sure exactly what, but everything would be different.

  The world feels like it’s spinning out of control around the sun. Every second is faster than the last one, and I’m just one man trying to stop it from spiraling off its axis and destroying our lives as we know them.

  Every time something goes wrong in our lives, we all get sucked into the hurricane of emotions and break into pieces. It’s so fucking hard to rebuild our lives.

  Tuck: He’s busy this weekend.

  Nana: Sorry, Tuck. Maybe next time I’ll join you. Alex and I already have plans.

  I stare at my phone, wondering if she’s dating him. Fucking Alex! Of course she’s dating him. I knew he wouldn’t just sit around, but can he give me a break? I get it, he waited one year too long for her. Does she know what he’s up to though?

  Tuck: What’s happening with Golden Boy?

  Nana: We’re friends.

  I laugh because either she’s clueless or in denial.

  Tuck: Fine, go search for your other half and be happy.

  Nana: Love you, Tuck!

  Tuck: If you did, you’d come with me.

  Nana: Wow, aren’t you a little old to try to guilt trip me?

  Tuck: Can you feel my desperation? Come party with us, you won’t regret it.

  Nana: Stop partying so much.

  Tuck: I’m thirty, not sixty. You’re younger than me.

  Nana: Sorry, I can't.

  If I told her that Rocco is having a hell of a time and needs her, she would find a way, but I don’t say it, because maybe she’s right. We’re too old for this crap.

  Tuck: You’ll be missed.

  Nana: Behave, okay. If I have to clean up your mess, I won’t be nice to you.

  Tuck: Love you, Nana.

  “Tucker, your mom is on her way,” Cynthia, my assistant, announces through the intercom.

  “Are you sure she’s coming to visit me and not my father?”

  “Mr. Cooperson’s assistant is the one who gave me the heads up, so be ready.”

  I scrub my face and walk toward to the door. When I open it, I spot her right away. It’s not hard though. Thea Cooperson-Decker is not only beautiful, elegant, and tall. She’s unique.

  Think of a regal unicorn princess. Her hair is long, wavy, and multicolored. Her clothes are colorful, usually wearing long dresses or flouncy shirts and jeans. She’s unique in many ways and never blends—she strives to be herself.

  “Mom, I wasn’t expecting you today,” I say, instead of asking, why don’t you use the phone? I’m a grown man.

  “I was visiting your dad, and I thought, why not just go and talk to him—in person,” she continues. “You should read Hannah’s articles. She’s been very vocal about the need for human contact. She encourages to go back to connecting with your loved ones in an offline environment.”

  “Sure, I’ll try to read them the next time…” I have insomnia and no woman to fuck.

  This right here is why I hate working for my parents. They don’t understand the meaning of boundaries. They come in and out of my office as they please.

  “So, what brings you to this side of the building?”

  “Winter’s birthday is coming up, and I want to make sure you’ll be there.”

  I smile and look at the portrait of my family. Winter is the baby of the family. Well, not a baby, since she’s about to turn thirteen. Fuck, where did the time go? It feels like it was just yesterday when I had to help Mom during childbirth—at home.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” I say and stare at her because I can sense that there’s so much more she wants to say to me. “Now, can you please tell me what the real reason is for why you’re here?”

  “Tristan is worried about you.”

  I press my lips together and stare at her.

  She waves her hand. “Yes, you’re an adult and … look, you seem a little lost and you’ve been avoiding us lately. No matter what you say, you’re still our kid.”

  “Thirty,” I remind her, not adding, you relinquished your parental rights thirty years ago. You have no fucking right to treat me the same way you do your other five children.

  Why do I stop?

  Because we don’t discuss our situation. The fact that she gave me up for adoption the day I was born. There’s this unspoken agreement between us to forget our past. It’s pretty simple—she was a teenager, and she didn’t want me. Apparently, there’s more to the story than being an addict without any family support. Some things they assume I won’t understand, and others are better not being told.

  Listen, I understand to some extent. She had choices, like having an open adoption where I could see her. But she chose to be selfish, and she gave me up—forever.

  Not being able to talk about the big gorilla between us weighs on me. It strains our relationship to the point that I can’t get as close to her as I should. To this day, I’m not even sure if I’m enough for her—or for anyone.

  She was supposed to protect me, to love me, to be the one person who would be there for me no matter what.

  Still, here she is, criticizing every step I take. She found a new life. She’s no longer that broken addict she was back when I came into her life. She has a new family, and as much as she insists that I’m a part of it, I never feel good enough to belong.

  “What do you want me to say?” I ask, because I have a ton of work and Cancun is waiting for me.

  “It’s not about saying, but doing, Tucker. You and your friends keep partying the same way you did ten years ago. They…” She exhales loudly and purses her lips.

  “You never liked them.”

  “I do, but you don’t want to see what we do. Zeke and Rocco need more help than you can give them. My worry isn’t about their influence but what’s going to happen to you when they hit rock bottom.”

  “They won’t,” I assure her.

  “Stop lying to yourself, Tucker. If you love them, do them a favor and stop protecting them.”

  “You have no idea what it is to have no one in the world.” For once I verbalize my thoughts out loud.

  She chuckles. “I was on my own for a long time. For years, my acting jobs were what supported my family. You can’t tell me I don’t know what they’re going through because I knew people like them—I was like them.”

  “I’m sure you made a lot of mistakes during your twenties.”

  “No, I stopped at seventeen. Once I learned about you, I worked hard to change my life. I worked hard to become a better person. One who you’d be proud of calling mom, even if that never happened. I marked the days I’d been clean—fighting my demons for you. I’m not saying turn your back on them, but you have to let them be on their own.”

  Maybe I should be on my own and away from this overbearing family.

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree,” I say, calming myself before I say something I’ll regret.

  She swallows hard and nods. “I hope one day you’ll forgive me for giving you up. It was for the best,” she says and leaves.

  She can keep saying that to absolve herself from guilt, but was it really for the best?

  2

  Tucker

  Accepting I was wrong is the first step to … what?

  There’s no fucking way I’ll admit that Hannah is right and that I should stop partying like a fucking rock
star.

  Agreeing with Ethan, that maybe what we’ve been doing for all these years is getting old, isn’t going to happen anytime soon. I laugh uncontrollably as I step out of the elevator. Fuck, maybe my parents are right: I have to stop behaving like a kid.

  Maybe they didn’t say it in those words, but partying the way I’ve been doing isn’t taking me anywhere.

  No, that’s the scotch talking.

  As I walk toward my office, I feel drained. Miserable. The sun, the beach, and the women didn’t do fuck for me this time around. I might need a vacation from the weekend. Babysitting those assholes, while trying to enjoy myself, was harder than it used to be.

  Why did I become their babysitter?

  Because they don’t have a family. Because they need a place to stay. Because every fucking time they come out of rehab, someone has to keep an eye on them, and I always volunteer to be the one. I just want them to stay clean.

  And I have the feeling that I’m failing—again.

  “You reek of alcohol,” Cynthia says, while she follows right behind me. “Did it occur to you to stop by your apartment and take a shower before coming to the office?”