Running in Place (Mending Hearts)

by L. B. Simmons

  Sobbing, I retreat into my mind. I go to my safe place, where there’s no pain, no anger, no heartache. I have no idea how long I’m there, but eventually, I’m pulled out of it by two familiar arms as they lift me from the floor. Still crying, he lays me gently on the bed before it dips with his weight as he lies beside me, cradling me tightly against his chest. Several minutes pass before he finally speaks.

  “I’m sorry, Tate,” he says on a long exhale as he runs his hand down the back of my hair. “I’m going about this all wrong. It’s just, I’m not usually one to let myself care about anyone, but I do care about you. So much that it kills me to see you hurting. I want to help you, and I know in the back of my mind I’m running out of time. I don’t have the luxury of breaking it to you gently.”

  He breaks to trail his fingers down the skin of my arm until he finds my hand. Taking it into his, he adds, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. That wasn’t my intention. I just want you to be happy. I want to see that beautiful smile of yours not tainted by the sadness in your eyes. You deserve that.”

  Raising my head off his chest, I turn to look into his eyes and set my chin down, tilting my head back so I can see him clearly. His eyes so full of regret, my anger subsides as my heart breaks a little more.

  “I’ve let you into my world now, Noah. It’s no secret I’ve got a painful past that has left me with several unresolved issues.” I exhale deeply, knowing that he’s right about my dependence on Daddy. “You were just trying to help and I understand that. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.” I take a moment to think about my next words. “It’s just — I don’t want to be fixed. I want to be accepted, flaws and all.”

  My head rises with his deep breath. “Well, that’s good because I can’t fix you. Only you can do that. You just have to make that choice.” He places his hand on my cheek, stroking it lightly with knuckles. “God, Tate, you’re ferocity amazes me. If I had half your strength, I wouldn’t be allowing myself to be shipped off to Harvard, to lead a life that’s not even mine.”

  Thankful for the change in topic, I prod. “Why go then? I meant what I said. You could live off your music. Why not at least try?”

  He closes his eyes and looks towards the ceiling. “Good question.”

  “Well, I think you should.” He drops his gaze back down to me and smiles.

  “You think so, huh?” After one last sweep of his hand down my cheek, he passes his thumb over my lips. “There are so many things I wish I had the courage to do. The knowledge of what my life could be haunts me. You have no idea.”

  “I think I do,” I say, my throat constricting as he cups his hand around the back of my neck.

  I feel his breath against my mouth as he dips his head and urges me forward, the overwhelming need to feel his soft lips against mine almost too much for my emotional state.

  Just as our mouths are about to meet, the sound of screeching tires, two slamming doors, and Harlow’s high pitched scream breaks us apart.

  “Trace! Stop it!” I hear her yell as his heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs.

  Noah jerks up, forcing me off his body. “Fuck.”

  “Tatum! I need to talk to you!” Trace’s voice bounces around the walls of the stairway. Noah and I bolt off the bed, adrenaline surging through my entire body. Finally arriving at my bedroom door, Trace throws it open, his face red and his breaths heavy. Noah protectively steps in- between us, but not before Trace gets a glimpse of my face.

  “What the hell happened to your eye?” Trace belts out just as Harlow comes running in behind him. Her green eyes move from Trace to me, a moment of question passing before she remembers why she’s so frantic.

  “Trace,” she breaks her gaze from me, “Not today. Let’s go.” She pulls his arm but he stays firmly planted.

  Noah shakes his head slowly at Trace. “Listen to Harlow, Trace. It’s not a good time. Trust me.”

  The sight of him, standing in my room, absolutely severs whatever marginal hold I had just regained regarding my rationality. And the fact that they all think they’re speaking in some code that I can’t possibly decipher is the final straw.

  “What the fuck do you care about my eye, Trace? About my face? About ME? After all these years, you think you can storm your way in here and try to act like you give a shit? FUCK YOU!” I yell as I push Noah out of the way. He tries to grab my wrist, but I wiggle free.

  Storming toward my closet, I grab my most recent journal as Trace backtracks out of my room with my approach. “Fuck you, Trace. You want to care. Here, read them.” I hurl the first one at his face as hard as I can, completely missing him as he ducks and shields his head. “Here is every single part of my life that you refused to believe. Her drunken nightly beatings, her rages, her hateful spewing, her punishments. All of it from the mother that you so revered.”

  I launch another one. And another. And another.

  “You left me there and I waited for you to rescue me — for YEARS! I fucking hate you for that!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I reach for yet another, but Noah grabs my hand and pulls me back into his chest, his arms tightening around me so tightly I can’t breathe. Instinctively, I bring my legs to my chest and begin to kick, thrashing around as I try desperately to break his hold.

  “ENOUGH!” Harlow yells.

  My feet hit the ground and we all still immediately, her green eyes blazing at each one of us before she speaks.

  “Trace, get out of here. NOW!” Directing her stare at Noah, she jerks her head towards the stairs. “You too, Noah. Go,” her voice softens with her command.

  Then she turns her fiery eyes to me. “You. Sit.” She points to the bed.

  Something within me knows not to fuck around with her, so I do as I’m told.

  Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I hang my head and drag my feet to my bed, taking my seat as she closes the door.

  Calmly, she tugs the hem of her light blue button-up shirt. After it’s pulled taut and straightened, she makes her way toward me, her black dress pants sweep the floor and her heels click as she walks as I wait for yet another lecture.

  But as she takes a seat beside me, she says nothing. Not a word. She just places her arm around my shoulder and pulls my body into hers as she tightens her hold.

  After a while, she draws in a deep breath. “Men. Always trying to fix things, aren’t they?” I nod as I wipe my nose against my shoulder.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “No. Nothing about anything that just happened is okay,” I respond, my voice hoarse from yelling.

  “Well, maybe not the most desirable of communication, but, it’s a start.” She laughs to herself before releasing me and looking me directly in the eyes.

  “Your brother made many mistakes with you. He’s now very aware of them, and the guilt of that knowledge, well, it’s not easy for him to control himself.”

  I begin to speak but she cuts me off. “I’m not making excuses for him Tatum. He acted like an ass. I told him to wait until he wasn’t so upset, but he didn’t listen, obviously. If only people would listen to me, their lives would be so much easier.”

  As much as I don’t want to, I give her a small smile. She tilts her head and grins as she takes my hand into hers.

  “Give it time, sweet girl. You have a lot of wounds that need to heal. This isn’t about him, this is about you.” Nodding, I place my head back on her shoulder, the feeling of her being there an unexpected relief.

  “I’m sorry, Harlow.”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize to me, ever, for displaying your emotions. I get it. I do. We all can’t be in control all the time, but learning from the experience, that is an absolute must. Next time, for instance, aim a little to the left.”

  My head snaps up to look at her, my eyes widened with surprise, but a smile breaks across my face when I see hers. She lets out a laugh, clearly amused with herself.

  “Now,” she scoots away from me, tucking her leg underneath her, “Let’s forge
t Trace for a while. And I’ll go ahead and prepare you for the fact that I will be asking about someone’s fading handiwork showcased all over your face when the time is right. But, for now, let’s discuss Noah.”

  I shake my head. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “Well, I saw that boy step in front of you, to protect you. I also saw the concern in his eyes when you were upset earlier. I think there’s a lot to be discussed.”

  “He’s leaving Harlow, what’s the point? Honestly, we try to maintain a safe distance from each other for that very reason. I know he does anyway.” I shift my eyes to my comforter, suddenly saddened with the reminder of his upcoming departure.

  She lets out a long sigh before she responds. “Well, sometimes it just so happens that when you meet the right person, all those unspoken rules that you make for yourself go right out the window, and you find yourself wanting to break every single one of them. I have a feeling Mr. Reese has some rules that he wants to break. He just needs a little push, that’s all.”

  I look back up at her and can’t help but giggle. I have a feeling Ms. Harlow Reed is up to no good.

  The warmth of excitement runs through my belly as I recall his lips just inches from mine. Maybe she’s right.

  And besides…

  When have I ever passed up the chance to break some rules?

  What the fuck is she doing now?

  Glancing up from behind the bar, I’m once again reminded that I must have been selected to receive a one-way ticket to hell, compliments of one Tatum O’Connell this evening.

  It started about two hours ago when the bar opened. She pranced in here for the shift that she shouldn’t even be working, wearing those same damn shorts that she knows are way above regulation length, but did I say anything? No. I just looked the other way and continued writing in my journal. I couldn’t bring myself to say a goddamn word for fear that everyone in here would see right through me. Fear that they would not only see the fact that those shorts were indeed growing on me, but the fucking reality that I want her out of them for an entirely different reason. Damn me to hell, but it’s true.

  Good thing I already have a ticket.

  So I just shut my mouth and went about my business. My eyes…well, they’re a completely different story.

  Then, about an hour ago, I watched her touch every single male patron in her section. Not overtly, but enough to make me want to fucking rip their jugulars out of their necks for being on the receiving end. Again, I said nothing. I just swallowed the fury into the pit of my stomach and turned my head, going on about my business.

  Now, however, I’m forced to watch her bending over right in front of me to hear some motherfucker whisper in her ear, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off the beast that’s rearing its head again. Slamming my journal shut, I stuff it into my backpack just as I hear the familiar laugh of Mrs. Harris, my favorite regular here at the bar. After zipping the backpack closed, I throw it, literally, under the sink before yanking a cocktail napkin off the top of the pile. Tearing my eyes from the asshole who has decided it necessary to run his fingers along Tatum’s calf as he speaks, I glance down at my shaking fist where the napkin has been reduced to a wad the size of a dime.

  I really need to get this shit under control.

  Damn. If Trace was here, I could just leave, but no, he had to fly the fuck off the handle and try to barrel his way into Tatum’s life, resulting not only in her complete emotional meltdown, but also getting his ass handed to him by Harlow.

  By the end of her merciless tirade, she not only prohibited him from seeing Tatum tonight at the bar, but also for at least another month after that, after explaining to him that he can’t force a relationship with her and lecturing him on how he has to be patient and wait for her to come to him on her terms. I sure as hell didn’t offer any information regarding my part in what happened today while she was communicating this to him. I just sat quietly, waiting until she was done to ask her permission to go see Tatum.

  After my request was denied, Trace gave me a look to let me know we would be discussing everything that went down today in detail very soon. I had already briefed him about Cash and what happened Friday night while Harlow was handling Tatum in her room. I also let him know that I took care of that fucker and that he didn’t need to worry about Cash coming anywhere near her again. This earned me a slight, but prideful grin, which was lost as soon as Harlow slammed the front door on her way out of the house. If I wasn’t so worried about Tatum and feeling a tad guilty for baiting him into the whole situation, I would have laughed watching Harlow rip Trace a new one because honestly, well — it was funny.

  Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I reach for another napkin, finally taking my first glance at Mrs. Harris who is wearing a shit-eating, know-it-all grin on her face. I place the napkin directly in front of her while she speaks.

  “Well, well, well,” she laughs. “It seems you’re a little distracted this evening, not that I can say that I blame you.” After scooping ice into the silver shaker in front of me, I snag the ingredients for her Cosmopolitan while I watch mother fucker’s hand moving slowly up Tatum’s leg. She throws a glance at me from over her shoulder, grins, then rises to a standing position. Pivoting around, she pulls a cherry sucker from her pocket and pops it into her mouth, sauntering her way over to Mrs. Harris in the process.

  “Helen! How are you?” she asks. I’m momentarily mesmerized with the movement of Tatum’s gorgeous mouth as her plump lips come together, closing themselves around the red candy. Holding the stick between her thumb and forefinger, she places her free hand on her waist, cocking her hip to the side, and slowly pulls the sucker from her mouth. As she draws her tongue across her lower lip, my dick decides it’s time to start paying attention, practically giving her a full salute in appreciation.

  “Well, I’m definitely doing better than some people around here.” Mrs. Harris smiles at Tatum and they both direct their stares in my direction as I unsuccessfully try to readjust Mr. Happy back into place while pouring the vodka. Tatum raises a brow and then proceeds to place the sucker back in her mouth, sealing it once again with her pouty lips, maintaining eye contact with me the entire time. It’s quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  But, when a scheming smile spreads across her face, it clicks.

  She wants to get a reaction out of me.

  She wants me to get pissed off and lose control.

  After shaking the concoction in my hands, I pour it into a martini glass and set the drink in front of Mrs. Harris before offering her my apology. “Please excuse us, Mrs. Harris. There’s something I need to discuss with Tatum. We’ll be right back.” With an amused expression, she takes the drink and reclines back into her seat as I round the corner, coming out from behind the bar.

  “Oh, you two don’t worry about me. Take your time.” She continues to shrewdly watch our interaction as I approach Tatum, grabbing her under the arm and pulling her close to me as I lead us off the main floor of the bar.

  “Noah! Where the hell are you taking me? What is wrong with you?” I refuse to look at her, but I swear I hear laughter in her voice. I do note that she tosses the sucker into a trashcan as we pass by. Thank God for that.

  We make our way through the kitchen, wading through a sea of questioning glances from the staff until we arrive at the silver door of the walk-in cooler. Taking a brief look around to make sure we’re alone, I lift the handle and shove her inside as I follow close behind.

  She faces me as the door slams shut and the light above us shuts completely off, along with every single one of my inhibitions.

  The beast has been awakened, but instead of fury and rage, he now feeds off of my desire. My need. My lust. Every single one of my emotions that I’ve been warding against since Tatum whirled into my life.

  “Noah, what are we doing in the coo-”

  Her words are cut off as I slam my mouth against hers. She lets out a surprised gasp,
parting her lips just enough for me gain the access I need. The sweet taste of cherry floods my mouth as she then opens further, releasing a sigh as she relaxes into our kiss.

  Grabbing her underneath her thighs, I hoist her legs up and around my waist, just as her arms fold around my neck, pulling me closer. My fingers dig deep into her soft skin as I continue to step forward until her back hits the wall of the cooler, our tongues now entangled in greedy frenzy. Squeezing me tightly with her legs, she draws me flush against her body urging me to press Mr. Now Extremely Happy harder between her thighs. Once we make contact, her soft moan radiates throughout my entire body, the effect increasing my rigidity, so much it’s almost painful, but as our bodies begin to grind against each other, pure ecstasy is all I feel.

  There is no cold air around us. We’re completely enveloped in our own inferno, the heat stemming from our ravaging mouths and the friction between our bodies. Releasing her legs, my fingers trace their way along the side of her body, her waist, the sides of her breasts, her neck, until I reach her hair, pushing it away from her face as my mouth once again captures hers. Her hands move the opposite direction of mine, falling away from my head, down my neck, coming to rest on my chest where she grabs handfuls of my shirt just as my fingers interlace with her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. Completely lost in the moment, my mouth releases hers and trails down her neck, tracing her skin with my tongue the entire way to the hollow and then back up the other side.

  “Noah,” she clears her throat. “Noah, we have to stop. Someone is going to need to get in here eventually.”

  Damn. She’s right.

  After one last peck to her soft skin, I press my forehead into the crook of her neck and open my eyes, the dim lighting from the strip in the back of the cooler barely illuminating the space between us. Our heavy breaths visible like puffs of smoke as they escape our mouths, we cling to each other tightly, neither one of us ready to let go.

  “Well,” I sigh. “I think it’s safe to say I’m going to have to stay in here for a while. For a very, very long while. Walking in public isn’t exactly a possibility at the moment.”