Secrets We Keep

by B. K. Leigh

  Tatum: Who is this?

  I wait impatiently for the senders response. My eyes scan the room but almost everyone is buried nose deep in their books.

  Unknown: Please, Tatum. Just get to work.

  I decide the best thing to do is just ignore it. I don’t have time for any games, and I sure as hell don’t have time for any stalkers. I crack my book open and begin to read about The Cold War. Even the title relates to my life.

  ∞∞∞

  “Can’t you stay?” I ask Cohen for the millionth time.

  “Mama bear wants me home for once.” He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal.

  “I know, but why does it even matter now? You sleep here every night.” I tell him in frustration.

  “That’s exactly why it matters now, Tate. I have a family you know, and sometimes my mother would like it if her only son came home for once.”

  “Jeez, Cohen. I didn’t realize what a drag it was for you to stay here all the time.” I say annoyed. I know he has a family. I know he needs to go home, but I also know he’s my family. He’s my home too.

  “You know that’s not how I meant it. It’s just one night, Tate.” He comes over to where I’m sitting on the bed and takes up the spot next to me.

  “But what about next week when you go away? That’s gonna be like five nights, a whole freaking week.” I’m full out complaining now.

  “I already asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He says in defense.

  “I can’t just leave Grams here all by herself, and you know she can’t travel.” I argue.

  “It’s just a week, Tate. And it’s only one night right now. Since when did you become so co-dependent?” He remarks. I scoff in offense.

  “Since I was like seven and you decided to climb your ass through my bedroom window, Cohen.” I jab a finger in his chest. “It’s your fault I am this way. You should have kept your little boy self out of my bed back when you were seven!” He laughs the minute I say it and I can’t help but return it.

  “My fault!” He acts offended. “It’s your fault you let me stay, Tate. And it’s your fault you never let me leave!” He jabs a finger in my chest this time.

  “Whatever, Cohen Parker.”

  “You can’t do that.” He says in an accusing tone.

  “Do what? I ask confused.

  “Last name me, especially before I’m about to walk out of here!” He complains.

  “What are you even talking about?”

  “That!” He points a finger in my face. “You last name me when you’re mad, and then pretend it doesn’t bother you.”

  “It doesn't!” I exclaim, even though we both know he’s right.

  “Really?” He challenges.

  “Really!” I agree.

  “Fine, then I’m going.” He doesn’t even give me a second to take back my words before he’s up and out of my bedroom completely.

  “Cohen!” I call after him. I run through the house and out the front door just as he makes it to his Bronco. “Cohen, wait!” He stops just before getting in and holds his arms out for me. I don’t need an invitation. I throw myself into them as quickly as I can.

  “I love you, CoCo.” I say against his sweatshirt.

  “I love you, Tate.” He whispers into my hair. “And Bean too.” He adds on. “It’s only one night, you’ll live.”

  “I know, I just like it better when you’re here.”

  “I know.” He lets go of me and climbs into his Bronco. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby girl.” He backs away leaving me with a smile on my face. There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to sleep once I’m in bed, but at least I can try.

  I’ve been laying in bed for what seems like forever. Darkness surrounds me as I stare out into the night. I’m always restless at this time, especially without Cohen. I can never get comfortable. I can never turn my brain off. My phone buzzes from beneath my pillow and I thank God Cohen chose now to text me.

  Unknown: It’s nights like these where I wish things could’ve been different. I thought you hated me...

  I stare at the screen. The bright white light cascades my bedroom, casting my shadow along the walls and ceiling. It’s the same number that texted me during History. A part of me already knows who it is, but the bigger part is too afraid to be let down when I find out it’s not them.

  Tatum: They can never be different. We’re stuck on this road, with the positions we’re in. I’m not sure how I feel.

  I answer in a way that's not too incriminating. If it’s not Killian then the person on the other end will never know what I’m talking about, but if it is then hopefully it’ll punch him right in the gut.

  Unknown: But if it could, if I had a choice… I’d choose you.

  My heart rate speeds up in my chest. Killian wants me. Killian. Wants. Me.

  Tatum: I chose you months ago. I knew it then and I know it now. But things are changing, things we can’t control.

  I wait for his next text with bated breaths.

  Unknown: Anyone can control their own destiny, Tatum. You just need to know how.

  Tatum: You confuse me.

  I tell him honestly, ignoring our current topic of conversation.

  Unknown: And you intrigue me.

  Unknown: Frustrate me to no end.

  He sends me a double text, both contradicting the other.

  Tatum: You make no sense.

  My head is like one giant mess of confusion when it comes to this man.

  Unknown: None of this makes any sense.

  Tatum: Whatever, I’m going to bed.

  I text him back in frustration, not wanting to deal with the headache any longer.

  Unknown: Goodnight, Tatum

  Tatum: Goodnight, K.

  Just one letter. I give him enough to let him know I know exactly who he is. And if he isn’t? Well then whoever is on the other end of this conversation will never know.

  Chapter 15

  Killian

  I’m caving.

  Day by day, minute by minute. I find myself completely consumed by all thoughts Tatum.

  It’s like the night I first saw her always stuck on replay. When I saw her sitting at that bar, completely innocent, completely illegal, I wanted her anyway, no matter the consequences. Something about her called to me that night, and still does. I itched to get my hands on her. I couldn’t stop until they felt the outline of her subtle curves. I was on fire, and she was the gasoline. Her touch, her scent, her kisses, those? Those were the match.

  They lit something inside of me, something deep within my soul. She was more than just a random one night stand, and like the pussy I am I tried effortlessly to find her afterwards. It was the perfect Cinderella story, but in this instance she didn’t leave any clues behind. I had nothing to go off of. Nothing but a set of blue balls.

  I was mortified when I saw her in my classroom that first day. I was more mortified when I realized I took her virginity in the club. I was also annoyed when I saw her sitting in the same spot on the second day. And by the third day I was completely lost. A grown man should not be having these thoughts about a teenager let alone that certain teenagers teacher. Even if she is eighteen. Every day that passes by is another day of pent up need. My balls are starting to ache with the thought of her being so near, but so completely off limits. What gets me is the look in her eyes that tells me she knows just how I feel. The look of desperation. The look of complete want, need… anguish.

  “Hello? Earth to fucking Killian.” Liam waves a large hand in my face.

  “What are you rambling on about now?” I ask in annoyance.

  “Great, I go on and on about getting you pussy and you weren’t even listening? Man you’re such a disappointment sometimes.” He rolls his eyes.

  “I don’t want to hook up with some random girl, Liam.” Not a complete lie. I do want to hook up with someone, but not a random. “I told you I’m fine.” I bring the neck of the beer bottle up to my lips and take a swig. I let the cool
hard taste swarm my taste buds and settle in the pit of my stomach.

  “You need to get over it, dude.” He takes a sip from his beer next. “You can’t sit here and pine over some girl you fucked all of one time, and you sure as hell can’t pine over one of your students.” He says with a serious tone.

  “I know, I know!” I throw my hands up irritated by the entire situation. “It’s just that, there’s something there. I don’t know what it is, Liam.” I scrub my palms over the stubble on my cheeks. “Besides being completely fucking illegal.”

  “What’s completely illegal?” As if this conversation wasn’t bad enough my little sister chose this exact moment to come waltzing into the conversation.

  “Nothing.” I mutter.

  “Killian’s fucking a teenager.” Liam tells her nonchalantly. I watch as Bianca’s eyes grow wide.

  “I’m not fucking her!” I point a finger in his direction and shoot a look that says drop it. “You fucking bastard! I told you that shit in confidence.” I add in at the last minute.

  “Killian!” My sister exclaims. “You’re having sex with a teenager? You’re twenty eight for fucks sake. What the hell are you doing?” She yells at me like she’s my mother, but she doesn’t understand the situation. I thought Liam did, but that was before he decided to go and throw me under the bus.

  “I’m not having sex with anyone, B.” I finish the rest of my beer off. “You don’t have to worry about that.” I tell her bitterly. She just stays there, staring at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Maybe I have. Maybe that’s why I’m slowly giving in to what my mind, body, and soul, really want.

  “You’re freaking screwed, big brother. Completely and utterly screwed.” Liam lets out a strangled laugh.

  “Are you guys serious right now?” Bianca asks moving her eyes between the two of us. “I feel like I’ve just been mind fucked.” She adds on half stunned, half still confused.

  “You’re mind fucked?” I let out a laugh like a psychotic serial killer. “How do you think I feel? I’m in love with a goddamn teenager.” I mumble the last part. I can’t even believe those words left my mouth. I don’t have feelings. I’m not capable of love, never have been, never thought I would be. Liam and Bianca stare at me as if I just admitted to some heinous crime.

  “Dude.” My little brother sputters. “I told you so.” He shrugs his shoulders sympathetically while shaking his head.

  “I’m gonna need another beer.” I say to no one particular. “Maybe three.”

  “I’m gonna need something a little stronger.” My sister exclaims. She looks lost, as if her mind is still trying to keep up with what little information Liam and I just threw at her.

  “You and me both.” I mumble. “You and me both.” I repeat.

  “Are you gonna fill me in on what the hell you two are talking about?” She asks annoyed.

  “It’s a long story.” I grumble.

  “Oh we’ve got time, right K?” Liam chimes in like the instigator he always seems to be.

  “Start talking, Killian.” Bianca starts. “Or I’m gonna call mom.” She threatens like the little girl she used to be. Always being the first to tattle tale.

  “Fine.” I grumble annoyed. “Here you go.”

  Chapter 16

  Tatum

  “I don’t know, Cohen. It just seems like she’s getting worse.”

  “Well what do you mean worse?” He asks wanting me to elaborate.

  “She’s just been sitting on the couch for days. Last night when I made dinner she didn’t even take a bite. This morning I didn’t even think she was breathing.” I shutter at the thought.

  “Well, to be frank you know all she does is watch General Hospital anyway. Grams practically lives on the couch. Maybe she’s just not feeling well. My mom says it’s flu season anyway.” He shrugs off my concerns as if they’re no big deal.

  “Maybe you’re right.” I admit, feeling a little relieved that I’m not being paranoid.

  “You know I always am. Besides, Grams is gonna be one of those ladies who lives until she’s like a hundred and thirty.” He jokes, letting out a small chuckle.

  “I honestly wouldn’t put it past her.” I retort.

  “Now, what are you gonna do without me for a week?” He asks seriously. We’re sitting at a table in the back of the cafeteria, with only one class left separating us from Thanksgiving break. As excited as I am the only downfall to having four days off is the fact that Cohen will be gone for an entire week. I won’t even have anything to do, and will be probably be stuck watching rerun episodes with Grams on the couch the entire time. I’ll be a certified couch potato as soon break is officially over.

  “Probably eat myself out of house and home.” I tell him with as much sarcasm I can seem to muster up.

  “It wont be all that bad.” He tries to comfort me. “Besides, at least you’ll be able to relax. You know how my mother is around the holidays. She’s bat shit crazy.” I cringe at the thought of Kathy in holiday mode.

  “That literally just made me shutter.” I let out a soft laugh.

  “But I’ll miss you and Bean.” He says honestly. He’s always saying things like that. It’s not just Tatum anymore, it’s Tatum and Bean. We’re a package deal and Cohen has taken us both under his wing.

  “It’s only for a week.” I roll my eyes as I mimic his earlier words. The bell begins to ring and my mood instantly sours.

  “That’s my cue, baby girl.” He stands and wraps his giant arms around me.

  “Ugh.” I whine. “You need to come back quickly.” I complain.

  “You know I will.” He tells me just before we pull away. Cohen’s right, I don’t think it’s healthy to be so co-dependent. I sigh.

  It is what it is.

  It’s the last class before break. The last time I’ll get to set my sights on Killian for four days. That thought makes me kind of queasy. I absentmindedly rub my hand against my belly, consoling little Bean from those thoughts.

  K: You alright?

  When I get the text my head immediately snaps up in the direction of Killian’s desk. His eyes are staring right at me. I’ve caught him red handed. A little bubble of giddiness rises up my chest as I realize I finally have him. I know he knows too. He motions his head to the small phone in my hand and reply almost immediately.

  Tatum: Should you be texting a student, Mr. Matthews?

  I ask him with a smirk. I raise my eyes in his direction once again and wait for his response. His fingers glide across the screen of his phone and then stop abruptly.

  K: Should you be texting a teacher, Miss O’Neil?

  For some reason I can feel a red hot blush creep up my neck and onto my cheeks. It’s not like he said anything dirty, but maybe it’s the fact that what we’re doing could be considered just that. We’re teetering on a tight rope of forbidden desire. We both know it, and we’re both screwed.

  ∞∞∞

  The rest of the class drags by slowly. Too slowly. To be honest I’m not even sure if I want this day to end, it just means I have a whole bunch of nothing to look forward to. And it’s not like I can even cook. So I can’t even enjoy all of that delicious Thanksgiving food. I already told Grams I was just going to make tacos and call it a day. She agreed happily, considering she doesn’t have the strength to spend the entire day up on her feet slaving away in the kitchen. She’s a simple woman to please, and for that I’m thankful.

  The bus ride home seems like it lasts forever. I’m the last stop since Grams lives all the way on the edge of town. I sigh in relief when the bus pulls up to the end of my driveway. I listen as my feet crunch over the rocks and leaves as I make my way to the front door.

  “Grams!” I call as I walk through the door. “I’m home!” I yell again. I go straight to making her favorite tea. She never asks for it, but I do it for her every day anyway. She must be seriously invested in some new episode she’s watching. “You want anything to eat?” I try again. No answer. I take the kettle off of
the electric burner and pour the flaming hot water over the teabag and into her favorite mug. I add a little bit of cold water before picking it up and bringing it to her. I walk slowly into the living room careful not to spill any liquid over the sides of the mug. When I look up, I stop in my tracks. She’s not in her usual spot. Her old worn out recliner is empty. My eyebrows pinch together in confusion.

  What the hell?

  I set the mug down on the small table beside her recliner and go in search for her around the house. I’ve never not seen her in the same exact spot whenever I get home from school. She’s a habitual General Hospital watcher, so where the heck could she be?

  “Grams?” I check her bedroom just by chance and still don’t see her inside. She barely goes in there anyway. I walk past the bathroom next and just so happen to turn my head towards the cracked door. My heart drops into my butt as I push the door open wider.

  “Grams!” I scream her name in a panic. She’s lying on the floor face down. Her skin is cold with a purple hue. I drop to my knees and turn her over. My hands are shaky, my heart is racing. My stomach feels as if I’m going to spill the last weeks worth of food all over the floor. I put my ear to her chest and pray like hell she’s still breathing. She looks lifeless. White as a ghost, and as small as a child. I swear I can hear the faintest of heartbeats, but it does nothing to relieve my worry.

  I waste no time calling 911. The entire time I wait for an ambulance to show I hold her hand as tight as I can, begging her not to leave me. It’ll be my fault. I killed my parents, and now the stress of raising me is going to kill her too. My eyes leak with broken tears until suddenly an entire dam is let loose. I’m bawling when I hear the EMT’s enter the house. I’m bawling when they let me climb into the back of the ambulance with her. And I’m bawling when I hear them start charting words like pulse, blood pressure, and cardiac arrest. Some of them aren’t so big, but all of them are scary. When we get to the hospital I’m left staring after her frail body being rushed through a set of double doors. I feel like my heart has just been dragged in there with her. As if it’s been stomped on, and then squeezed through a meat grinder. Everyone goes about their daily lives. They move around me while I’m still rooted to the floor. Nurses carry around clipboards, receptionists answer phone calls, and doctors walk quickly from room to room. They don’t notice me. They don’t notice the pain I’m in or the heartache I’m feeling. If something happens to Grams I’m done. I won’t be able to make it without her. After my parents passed, she was my lifeline. I never got to return the favor.