Running in Place (Mending Hearts)

by L. B. Simmons

  I would fucking kill him.

  Just as my grip tightens on the wheel, a chiming noise from the floorboard captures my attention. Glancing over, I catch sight of Tatum’s purse. A small grin presents itself on my face. Now she can’t be pissed when I show up seeing as though I have an actual reason to go back. It’s the perfect ploy.

  After coming to a complete stop in the driveway, I reach over to grab the tiny black sequined purse she almost left in the bar, suddenly glad I went back to get it. It vibrates in my hand, most likely a call from Sadie.

  Tightening my hold on it, I exit the Jeep and head for the front door, but before I reach it, a familiar clicking noise comes from behind me. Turing around, I spot Tatum’s piece of shit Civic on the other side of the street.

  Click. Nothing.

  I Wait.

  Click. Still Nothing.

  Making a note to force her to take it in tomorrow morning, I head in her direction. This isn’t the first time this has happened and it pisses me off every single time. Except this time because she sure as shit doesn’t need to be driving. This time I’m glad it doesn’t start. And where the fuck is she going without Sadie?

  Shaking my head, I approach her passenger side window and tap lightly, watching closely as she jumps in her seat but then twists towards me. I can’t really see her face to tell whether or not she’s pissed that I’m here, and I really don’t care if she is seeing as though she was going to try driving herself somewhere. But just in case, I cover my bases by holding her purse up so she can see it. After a couple of seconds, she rolls the window down.

  “The car won’t fucking start, Noah. It won’t start…” she trails off as she covers her face with her hands and begins to sob. Panic replaces my frustration. I immediately toss the purse into her car and reach in to unlock the door. After opening it, I slide down into the passenger seat, and since she’s still facing me, I put my arms around her, pulling her tightly against my chest.

  Her tiny body quivers inside my hold as she cries. I smooth her hair with my hand, trying to calm her, but it seems to have the opposite effect. I’m completely at a loss here. I have no idea what happened, but I’m positive she wasn’t this upset when I left her no more than five minutes ago.

  “Tate, look at me.”

  Releasing my hold, I place my hands on her shoulders and lightly press her away from me. She’s still covering her face, so I make my move and peel her hands away so I can see her fully.

  As soon as they’re removed, she fearfully tries to avoid my stare by glancing at me from behind the sections of hair covering her eyes. As I begin to suspect what has happened in my absence, my jaw tightens and my nostrils flare as I take in a deep breath, attempting to remain in control of the anger as it begins to spread throughout my body.

  “What. The. Fuck?”

  Releasing my hold on her wrists, I bring both of my hands, which are now uncontrollably shaking with fury, to her swollen cheeks. Slowly so that I don’t scare her, I pluck the pieces of hair away that are clinging to the lines where tears have been running down her face. With each section removed, I assess the damage inflicted — fist-sized bruise underneath her cheekbone, raised knot on her forehead, open gash across the side of her jaw. And with each assessment, more control is lost.

  Picking the last piece, I uncover her left eye which is purple and almost completely swollen shut, with her cracked and bloodied skin outlining it.

  “Did Cash do this to you?” I ask, my voice trembling with rage.

  When she nods her answer, I take in another deep breath to suppress my outrage as I ball my shaking hands into tight fists. “Is he in the house?”

  After another dip of her head, I use the very last bit of restraint I’m able to harness, clenching my teeth as I speak. “Get out of the car, now.”

  Slowly and unsteadily, she reaches for the handle.

  As soon as she opens her door, I’m already outside of the car.

  As soon as she steps out I’m there, taking hold of her elbow and I don’t let go until we arrive at my Jeep.

  As soon as she starts to speak, I cut her off. “Get in. Lock the doors. Do not get out until I get back.”

  She opens her mouth. I open the door.

  “Tatum. Get. In. Please.” I’m fighting a losing battle within myself and one look at her frightened expression tells me I need to try to get as far away from her as I can before I lose it. After guiding her into the Jeep, I pause, taking one last look at her mangled, tear-stricken face before I shut the door behind me.

  I don’t make it far.

  One step away from the side of the car, the reality of the situation hits me and I can no longer control the beast inside of me. It claws its way out as I throw my arms open wide with clenched fists, rearing my head back as I roar for the torment that overwhelms me.

  “MOTHER FUCKER!”

  I let it take control as it consumes me. I want it. I welcome it. I become it.

  I. Am. Wrath.

  Stalking up to the house, I throw the door open and, upon my entry, I’m greeted by the high- pitched shriek of bouffant Barbie and the sound of Cash’s chair as it scrapes along the kitchen floor when he stands. The sight of her nursing him with a bag of frozen peas on his knuckles further amplifies my rage.

  Three steps later, there’s even more shrieking as I nudge Barbie out of the way and grab Cash by his neck, laying him out across the kitchen table. It shifts forward, and the legs break from underneath us when I throw myself on top of him, pinning his waist between my knees as we fall. I don’t remember much after that, except the warmth of his blood on my fist when I broke his nose and the sight of it as it splattered across the wall behind his head. I don’t know how long I was there, how many times I connected with his face, or how much damage I caused. All I know is when I was done, I was out of breath and the beast was calm.

  Grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, I pull him forward until my mouth is next to his ear as I give him my warning.

  “You even look at her, I will rip your goddamn throat out. This is nothing compared to the pain I will inflict upon you if I catch you anywhere near her. This is your last warning, you senseless fuck. Do. Not. Test. Me,” I emphasize each word before releasing him, sending his unconscious body crashing to the floor.

  Rising up off of his chest, I snatch the bag of peas off the floor and toss it on his chest before walking out the door.

  Nurse that, motherfucker.

  After slamming his front door shut, I head toward the Jeep. A car takes off in the distance, and my eyes land on Cash’s truck alongside the road about three houses down. Odd, but honestly, I don’t really give a shit. The location of Cash’s fucking truck is the least of my worries right now.

  I break my gaze from his truck to meet the crystal clear eyes of Tatum, widened in surprise, still sitting in my passenger seat. She starts to open her door, but I shake my head. I need her to remain safe. I have no idea how long Cash will be out, and my main concern is getting her ass away from here.

  After hooking the keys from my pocket, I raise my hand, pointing the keyless entry toward the Jeep, when I notice the drying blood trails that have embedded themselves between my knuckles. Quickly, I dart my eyes around the front of his house until they find the outside faucet. I don’t want to scare her any more tonight, and something tells me that the blood all over my hands isn’t going to help calm her any.

  As swiftly as I can, I march over to the faucet and after turning it on, I wash the remaining blood from my hands, drying them on my jeans as I turn towards Tatum. Taking one more glance at Cash’s still open doorway, I figure it’s improbable that he’s going to wake anytime soon, so I head over to the Jeep. Still, it’s not until I’m at my door that I press the unlock button.

  After opening it, I take my seat and put my keys in the ignition. Reversing out of the driveway, I keep my eyes on the road until I feel as though we are a safe distance away. From the corner of my eye, I can see Tatum’s hands trembling as she reach
es up to touch her face. The need to comfort her is so overwhelming I almost can’t breathe.

  I want to hold her, to ease her fears. I have to have her in my arms, to wrap them around her, solidifying the knowledge that she’s safe and within my protection.

  Pulling over to the side of the street, I throw it in park and turn my body towards hers. She maintains her forward gaze, not daring to face me, but I can see the teardrops as they fall from her quivering chin onto her black dress. Her black heels are nestled in her lap, knees tucked just barely underneath her body, her bare feet against the side of my door. The sight shreds my chest into a million pieces. She looks so fragile. So broken.

  Leaning over, I say nothing. I just reach for her and envelop her body within mine. She doesn’t fight me. The sound of the leather seats cracking fills the inside of the Jeep as she willingly enters my arms, crying uncontrollably as I stroke her hair. After a while, when her sobs subside to soft sniffles, I place my cheek gently on her forehead and I hold her. I would like to stay here like this for hours, but knowing that we’re on the side of the road, not exactly in a safe neighborhood, reminds me that we’re not out of trouble just yet. So, regretfully, I release her from my arms.

  Placing my palm underneath her chin, I gently cup her face, and softly turn her head towards me until her swollen eyes find mine. As soon as they meet, she closes her own, releasing more tears, but succumbs as she lays her cheek against my fingers. I raise my other hand and lightly stroke the knot on her forehead, lifting the hair away from her face so I can better see her eyes. The left one is almost completely swollen shut now. I make a note to check the gash on her jawline. It was pretty bad and it probably needs some attention.

  After a final swipe of her bruised cheek with my thumb, I release her, prompting her eyes to finally open and return my stare.

  “You okay?” Stupid question.

  “No,” she answers honestly.

  “Me either.” Suddenly exhausted, I exhale at length before continuing. “Listen, we’re going to have to talk about this at some point, but for right now, I just want to get you far away from here. Is there anywhere in particular you want to go? Where you feel safe?” I leave out the fact that I plan on staying by her side regardless of her chosen destination.

  Her blue eyes shyly break from mine, suddenly interested in the straps on the shoes in her lap. She twists them around and between her fingers as she speaks.

  “I’d like to stay with you if you don’t mind.” She takes in a nervous breath. “I mean, I don’t want to put you out or anything, but I don’t really feel like dealing with Sadie’s bitch roommates. I’m sure this situation will give them plenty of ammunition for talking about me behind my back while I’m in the room. And Trace? Well, he’ll probably blame me for this, and honestly, I just can’t handle that right now.”

  I watch her mess with her shoes for a couple of seconds before I reach over and place my hand over hers. Surprised, she looks up at me but not before putting her other hand over mine and squeezing it tightly.

  “Please, Noah, I just want to be with you tonight.”

  I know this is the most inopportune time to have any thoughts of her in my bed, but damn if my brain doesn’t go there. I store the moment in my never-gonna-happen-but-will-always-wish-it-did memory bin before letting go of her hand, facing forward, and putting the car in drive.

  I know I can’t have her. I know it’s wrong. I’m leaving — nothing good for either of us can possibly come from this.

  But, as I press my foot down on the gas pedal, I turn off any internal alarms and silence my own warnings.

  For the first time in my entire life, I live in the moment.

  I allow myself to follow my heart instead of my head…

  And I take her home.

  Noah Reese’s house is exactly as I imagined it.

  Straight.

  Orderly.

  Structured.

  Everything has its place and remains in it. As I walk by his desk, I find myself wanting to switch his Anatomy book with his Calculus book, seeing as though they are obviously in order of ascending height. I let my fingers glide across the wood of his study area, and when I come to the end, I lift them for inspection. Just as I thought.

  Dust-free.

  I smile to myself because I expect no less from him. There’s something very comforting in that. My life has been so out of control lately, Noah’s predictability seems to anchor me. Although, his actions tonight took me by surprise. We still haven’t spoken about what happened, but I know we will. Which sucks, because I was already subjected to a screech-filled, thirty-minute earful from Sadie about that happened at Cash’s.

  Cash.

  I lift my hand and run my fingers over my swollen eye. I can’t even begin to process everything that happened tonight. The anger I felt when I saw those boots wrapped around him, that wasn’t about his cheating. That was every single ounce of rage that’s been festering inside my soul since I was six years old. Every hateful comment I received, every lashing I took, every sleepless night spent hiding in my closet — everything I have ever unjustly experienced since childhood drove my reaction tonight. And I got my ass beat.

  Typical.

  But what was not typical was having someone else so affected by my pain. I’ve never seen Noah lose control like he did this evening. Actually, I’ve never witnessed him express an ounce of emotion. Ever. I’m not really sure what to make of it. I know we’re friends, but his reaction, well — he took what happened to me personally. That’s the only explanation I can come up with, and I don’t understand why.

  Part of me wishes that he thought of me as more than a friend, I’m not going to lie, but I have to be honest with myself. I’m a fucking head case, number one. I would definitely disrupt his perfect life. There’s no way he could possibly want anything romantic with me, especially with everything going according to his perfect plan. Number two, even if he wanted something more than a friendship with me, well, I just got my face pummeled by my ex-boyfriend. I’m pretty sure that I need to sort some shit out regarding all of that. Number three, he’s leaving in a month. He knows it, and I know it, so what would be the point? I’m not one of his friends with benefits, like Ryder. I’m his friend only. And his friend I shall remain.

  “Shower, Tate!” Noah yells from the other room.

  “I’m going, Noah! I’m searching for dust particles in here, give me a minute!” I can’t stop my grin, no matter how much it kills my face.

  “Well, you’re not going to find any, so get your ass in the shower. I laid some clothes on the bed. When you’re done, we’ll talk.”

  I huff out loud at that last remark, suddenly wanting to stomp and cry like a three year old. I’m tired. I don’t want to talk. I want to explore Noah Reese’s room.

  So, that’s what I decide to do. Turning away from his desk, I head over to his dresser and swipe my index finger across the top. Damn. He’s right.

  Taking inventory of the items on top, I stop when I come to a black journal sitting by itself. There’s something sticking out of it, marking one of the pages. I glance behind me, making sure he hasn’t come in to make sure I’m in the shower and once I know I’m in the clear, I turn back towards the book and open it to find a napkin folded in half sitting between the two pages.

  I know this is so not right. Snooping is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  But, I do a lot of wrong things, so…

  Taking the napkin from the journal, I slowly unfold it and let out a surprised gasp.

  My heart sends a breathtaking shock across my body as I come to recognize the same ten hearts, thirteen smiley faces, five huge flowers along with my name written forty-two times that I doodled on the napkin during our lunch together my very first day working at the duplexes. The same day we fell in the bathtub. The same day he touched me for the first time. The same exact day that I realized there was more to Noah than being an arrogant asshole, and the same day that I let my guard down with him as
we became friends.

  I guess that day meant something to him too. The question is what? Why would he keep this?

  Still in astonishment, I place the napkin on the dresser, giving it one last delicate touch before I pick up the journal. At first, I barely skim the writing in the book, but with page turned, my eyes take in the words and my heart begins to race faster, until eventually I feel as if a hummingbird is flying around in my chest.

  My hands are holding quite possibly the most beautiful collection of poems or lyrics that I’ve ever read. Every single line written is raw, pure, heartfelt. My own heart aches as I read them. Tears fill my eyes while I lovingly run my fingers over the pages, just to touch them. To touch him. These are his words, filled with so much emotion and passion, they steal my breath.

  Feeling lightheaded, I back up until I’m forced to sit on his bed as I continue to read. The pain expressed in his words is so similar to my own. The fears, the wants, the needs, the desires — my eyes take them in as my heart absorbs them, each word a soothing salve for the constant ache of its broken pieces.

  The door creaks and I look up from the bed to find Noah standing in his doorway, watching me as I read. Tears streaming, I close the book and set it on the bed beside me, leaving my hand on top of it because I’m not ready to let go of it just yet.

  “Noah, your words are beautiful.” He shifts nervously but holds my eyes. “Are they poems?” I ask.

  He lets out a long breath as he runs his fingers through his hair. “No, they’re lyrics. My lyrics. That’s my lyric journal. No one’s ever read it besides you, snoop.” He gives me a sexy half-smile before walking over to the bed. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone. Now,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I guess I have to stay right here, guarding my possessions, while you get undressed for the shower you’re supposed to be taking at this very moment. Your privacy privileges have officially been revoked.” He reaches over and removes the journal from underneath my fingers, then makes his way toward the dresser. He stares for a bit before turning back around, now donning a huge grin.