Perfect Song (Mason Creek Book 2) by Lauren Runow (christmas read aloud .txt) 📕

Instead of writing my column today, I’m doing a little digging to see if I can figure out what’s going on with him. I know he’s a proud man and he doesn’t like to push his burdens onto others, but I worry about him, and I don’t want to be a nag either. After spending so much time with him, I can tell what ever is going on it’s becoming an issue.

I’ve caught him rubbing his eyes a few times, saying he was having trouble focusing, and on this website, it says symptoms can be either pain behind the eyes or blurred vision. When I had to read something to him the other night, I teased him about his age, saying he might need to get glasses, but now, I’m not so sure if that’s the problem.

He’s also talked about his hands not being able to grip things and muscle spasms, stiffness, and weakness. Last night, he was rubbing his foot, saying it had fallen asleep with how we were lying and watching TV, but now, I wonder if that’s really what it was.

And lastly, when we had pancakes with Shorty last Sunday morning, he mentioned maybe he was getting sick because nothing seemed to taste right. He wasn’t getting sick and hasn’t mentioned a word about it since.

The morning rush has slowed down, and Jessie walks over to me, taking a seat at the chair in front of me. I’ve enjoyed getting to know her. It cracks me up that even though her father owns Bumps and Dents, where Tucker works, he’s actually very against her owning this coffee shop. You’d think he’d be proud of his daughter for opening her own business, but he knows the struggles of self-employment, and he wanted something different for his daughter.

She’s a feisty one with a mind of her own, and she has no problem with telling her dad where to shove it.

If I were her, I would be the same way, especially because the business is doing so well. I watch the string of people come in and out of here, and for such a small town, she’s doing just fine. Plus, her coffee is on point.

“What’s the topic you’re working on today?” she asks.

I close my laptop, not wanting her to see what I’m Googling. Yes, I could blame anything on an article I’m writing, but I don’t want any of Tucker’s symptoms to get around this town. If someone else saw him struggling and then heard I was Googling the symptoms, rumors could spread like wildfire and I don’t want anything to get out, especially because I don’t like what I’ve read so far.

Actually, it downright scares me.

I take an inhale and welcome the distraction from it all.

“Nothing at the moment. Just surfing the internet, looking for ideas as I wait for my boss to get back to me. How have you been?”

“Livin’ the life.” She holds up her hands to her sides with a wicked grin on her face. “But I wanted to ask something.” She pauses, and I get the feeling this is going to be about Tucker. “I heard Tucker got into a fight at that concert over the weekend.”

I try to hide the frustration of small-town gossip that seeps in my veins within an instant when she continues, “I guess I was wrong when I said that his divorce scandal was old news. Looks like some hot-tempered men will never change.”

The door chime dings, and she smiles at the customer walking in.

“Well, back to work. We’ll chat later. Do you want a refill?” She points to my water.

“Yes, please. Thank you.” I hand her the cup.

When I open my laptop back up, I take a breath, glad I didn’t have to talk about this weekend, only to see what every search I’ve done all morning has led back to.

Maybe that conversation with Jessie will be better than the other one I think I’m going to have to have with Tucker.

Because there it is, plain as day on my screen.

The top three suggestions from WebMD are brain damage, which I don’t think fits; menopause, which I know doesn’t fit; and multiple sclerosis, which scares the crap out of me. And the more I dig, the more it makes sense, and the more afraid I get.

As I research every symptom I’ve seen firsthand or that he’s mentioned, MS is the only one that makes sense.

That’s too many things that match what’s going on with him for me to not say something. I need to get him to a doctor, but I have a feeling convincing him to do so will be hard. I know he’s the kind of guy who only goes to the doctor if he’s bleeding out or he has a broken bone.

I can’t just let it go though. I care about him, and if he gets early treatment, he could live a normal life. I read all kinds of research and options that can help him.

Now, I just need to see if he’ll listen …

As the workday comes to a close, I head to Bumps and Dents and find Tucker sitting at the counter, writing down the notes on a work order.

I’ve never even thought about the difference between a blue-collar and a white-collar worker until now. Jimmy and every other guy I dated in New York were all trying to climb the corporate ladder and wore suits and even got manicures on a regular basis.

Tucker is everything they aren’t. Seeing his hands covered in grease and the way his jeans hug him in just the right places while being slightly ripped in other places is sexier than I ever thought it’d be. To me, it shouts someone who will do anything to protect the ones they love since they aren’t afraid to get in and get their hands dirty, no matter what situation arises.

“There’s my girl,” he says in greeting with a smile on his