“I…I’m sorry. I was just trying to wake you…”
“I did that to you?” I interrupt her in horror.
Her eyes are watery and she holds her hand over her nose. She’s wearing a white t-shirt of mine and a couple of drops of blood fall off of her hand and land on the shirt. I’m gonna be sick. I hurt her!
“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay, Tate,” she says sitting up and crawling out of bed. Keeping her back to me, she makes her way to the bathroom and shuts the door.
I throw back the covers and jump out of bed. I make my way to the kitchen and grab the first thing I see, a bottle of Jack. I take a big swig and let the burn welcome me. What the fuck is wrong with me? Do I always move around when I have nightmares of my past? I’ve never hurt another woman like that before. But then again, not many stay the night.
“Tate?”
I look up from the floor and see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The bleeding has seemed to stop and she washed her face, but there is still some blood on my shirt that she wears.
“You need to leave.” I look back down to the floor. I’ve turned into him. I have officially harmed the woman who makes me want more than what I have. The one woman who gives me hope at something better.
“I’m okay,” comes her quiet voice.
“I said you need to leave,” I hiss.
“I’m not leaving you like this, Tate,” she argues.
I laugh but it holds no humor. She’s just as stupid as my mother was. At least Missy and I don’t have a child in the middle of this mess.
She takes a step toward me. “You’re not like your dad.”
My back stiffens and my body goes cold. I slowly look up at her and I see her blinks a few times.
“What did you say?” I’m surprised how calm my voice is. My blood is boiling and my anger is at an all-time high. Teeth clenched and fists tightening, I wait for her answer. I had to have heard her wrong.
She swallows nervously. “I said, you’re not like you’re father,” she whispers this time. “In your dream. You said dad…”
I reach back behind me onto the counter and wrap my fist around the neck of the Jack bottle and throw it across the room. It hits the front of the fridge and shatters, spreading glass and liquid all over the kitchen. Missy jumps back with a yelp.
“He is not my father,” I roar. I face her with my hands clenched down to my sides and my nostrils flared. I feel like I am about to snap at any second. If she continues to stay here, she will for sure be getting a show.
She takes a timid step toward me and I take a step back. “Leave,” I demand.
“No,” she says firmly.
“I need you to leave,” I say as I feel my wound up body loosen. I’m about to have a fucking breakdown. What the fuck is wrong with me? I haven’t felt this much sadness since I was a kid.
She comes right up to me and places her hands on my chest. I pull back, not wanting the contact, but now she has me pinned against the counter.
“Why are you still here?” I whisper. “You’re not safe around me,” I say truthfully. I’m surprised she’s even still here after last night. Once again I used her like she was my own personal fuck toy that I could play with. I fucked her harder than I should have and it felt amazing. I treated her as if she was another one of my whores just needing a release. And although it was wrong, I don’t regret it. It felt too good to regret.
She lets a tear fall down her cheek and I instantly reach up and wipe it off with my thumb. “It was just a dream, Tate. You didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“But I did. I…” And if you continue to give me the opportunity, I will.
“You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“The Jack…” I say gesturing to the spilled liquid and glass that now covers the floor. The man was not my father but I did learn how to behave like an animal from him.
“You were mad, Tate. I shouldn’t have mentioned him. I’m sorry.” Another tear runs down her cheek.
Instead of wiping it away, I wrap my arms around her and pull her body into mine. I know she’s better off distancing herself from me but I want to hold her close. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I kiss her hair. When she doesn’t say anything I pull her back so I can look down at her. “Aren’t you afraid?” Tell me I’m a monster and that I scare you to death. It would make this easier on both of us.
“The only thing I’m afraid of is that you will continue to go through this by yourself. Let me in, Tate. I just want to help you.”
I swallow nervously. “I’m scared,” I say honestly. My voice shakes and it makes my jaw tighten. Fucking pussy, is what he had always said to me.
“Of what?”
I lift my hands, cradling her face in my hands. “Of hurting you. You don’t understand what I’m capable of. I do. And believe me when I say, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Another tear rolls down her cheek and I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. “I’m scared, too. I’m scared that you won’t allow me the chance to show you that I’m here for you.”
I swallow back the fear that I will eventually hurt her, because it will happen. All I can do is hope that she can save me before I have to save her from myself.
******
MISSY
I lie next to Tate in his bed. It’s still nighttime because the room is dark. I can tell he’s still awake, though, by the beat of his heart and his breathing. I was sound asleep when he started talking in his sleep. He was calling someone a bastard and yelling dad. Then he started tossing and turning. I sat up and leaned over him trying to wake him up, and that’s when his hand came up and made contact with my nose. He didn’t slap me. It was as if he was placing his hands up to shield himself but I was in the way.
I don’t know much about Tate’s past. I also haven’t known for very long that he is Sam’s brother. We were all gathered around in the waiting room at the hospital, waiting to hear any news on Sam after Parker had brought her in from her car wreck when we all found out.
I look up at Slade. He’s got his elbows placed on his knees and his head between his hands. He’s silent but you can tell by the shaking of his body that he’s crying over his wife. His pregnant wife who’s in surgery after her car accident.
Parker gets my attention on the other side of the waiting room as he runs the sleeve of his cop uniform under his nose, letting it catch a drop of blood. Slade had punched him pretty good I guess. I’m not sure what exactly happened between them. I only got here a few minutes ago. But I was told that Slade punched him pretty good.
My eyes shoot back over to Slade as he stands quickly. He runs his hand down his face before wiping them on his pants. “How’s my wife?” his panicked voice asks as the doctor approaches him.
“She’s stable.”
He releases a long breath but his posture remains stiff. “Our child? Is it okay?” Slade asks.
“The baby is doing well. We are closely monitoring it.”
Slade’s shoulders fall as he runs a hand through this dark hair. “Thank you,” he says before he pulls him in for a hug.
The doctor doesn’t seem unaffected by Slade’s gratitude. I’m sure he gets this stuff all the time. He clears his throat and pulls away from Slade. “She has lost a lot of blood. If she has anymore internal bleeding, she may need a blood transfusion.”
Tate jumps to his feet. “I’m her brother. I can give her blood.”
Everyone’s head turns to look at him with open mouths, except for Parker and Slade. What? Did I hear him right? He’s her brother?
The doctor looks at him and nods. “I would like a nurse to take some blood and see if you are the same type. If so, we will wait and see where we need to go from there.”
Tate nods his head and follows after the doctor without another word.
“What?” Slade’s mother, Vivian, looks at him. “Did you know this?”
Slade nods. “I’ve known since I proposed to her in New York. Jack w
as his father.”
“Tate?” I say softly.
“Hmm?” His chest rumbles as he answers.
I roll over onto my side and place an arm over his chest. “Will you tell me something?” I ask cautiously.
He lets out a long breath as if he knew this conversation was going to come. “What do you want me to tell you?” he asks in the darkness.
“Will you tell me what you were dreaming about?” His relaxed body instantly stiffens after I finish that question.
I’ve known this guy for years. I was seventeen and in high school when I first met him. He was working for my father at his repair shop. It didn’t take me long to fall in love with him, but he’s so secretive. He keeps everything inside.
“No.” His deeps voice cuts through my thoughts.
No? I roll onto my back and look up into the darkness. Maybe if I give him something he will do the same in return. “I quit school,” I say to the silence, and I actually smile to myself. That was the first time I actually came out and told someone. It’s amazing how much one little lie can hold you down.
“What?” he asks and then I feel him shifting around, turning over onto his side to face me.
“I said I quit school.” It felt even better the second time. “Months ago.” I place my hands on my stomach. “I’ve been lying to everyone. Making them think I have been going.” Braxton was the only one I’ve told that I’m just taking a semester off.
“Why did you quit?”
My heart starts to pound in my chest. I didn’t think this through very well. That’s the one thing I can’t tell him. He can’t know that he was the one who led me to quitting school. “Other things just became more important,” I say trying to forget that awful day when Braxton rushed me to the hospital. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even sit up.
“Like?”
“The bakery.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I had missed so much when Sam needed me. When Jeremy had taken her and then her and Slade’s wedding. Yet she still offered me a job at the bakery and I wanted to help her out.” That is the truth.
I feel his rough knuckles lightly graze my cheek. “Does Sam know you quit school?”
“No. And I don’t want her to know. She would probably fire me and tell me to go back to school.”
He chuckles softly. “She would do just that.”
I think of our night together last night, my legs are sore and my thighs ache from what I allowed him to do to me. It’s amazing how much a person can enjoy pain.
“I’ve only ever slept with you,” I admit aloud, and his chuckling stops. I just could never do it with Braxton. We had only been dating for a couple of weeks when he rushed me to the hospital. It was bad, I honestly thought that I was going to die. I had trouble even breathing.
I’ve slept in his bed in just my underwear and t-shirt plenty of times, and we kissed, but it never went past that.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks quietly.
“You asked me at the party if I was still sleeping with Braxton. And then you mentioned him against last night while we were in bed… I want you to know that I never slept with him. We dated but I was never ready to take that step with him. He didn’t push it.”
“Did I hurt you?” he asks softly once he realizes that was only my second time to ever have sex.
Did it hurt? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Absolutely. “No,” I lie and he lets out a little laugh knowing that I lied.
We lie there together in the darkness as silence fills the room once again. I try to close my eyes to get some sleep but I can’t. My mind is keeping me awake. This is all I’ve wanted. For him to want me. For him to love me the way I love him. I know that will never happen but I wish he would give me a little bit more of himself. I wish he would open up to me and let me help him. No one can fight demons on their own.
The room starts to slowly lighten as the sun rises and the light filters in through the window. I look over to see if he finally fell back asleep. I softly smile when my eyes meet his dark blue ones.
He doesn’t return it, but he reaches out and wraps an arm around me before he pulls me into his side. I cuddle up against his warm body, feeling safe.
“It was about my childhood,” he says softly. And I remain still, hoping he tells me more about it. “I haven’t dreamed about it in a while. It used to be the only thing I dreamed about.” His chest rises and falls as he takes in a deep breath. “My mother married a man who was a sick bastard. He used to beat the crap out of her. And once I got a certain age, I started to defend her, and he would turn on me. I was a coward, though. I tried to be strong for her, for us, but it never did either one of us any good. I was too weak.”
My heart breaks for him. “You were just a kid, Tate,” I say trying to get him to see himself differently.
“No.” His voice is hard and full of anger. “I was a pussy. I should have stood up for her. I should have been the man that she needed in her life and taken care of her.” He lifts his left hand and runs it over his face. “She always pushed me away, though. She would take me over to Sam’s house and her mother, Marie, would take care of me. I would stay there for days sometimes. And I would have so much fun with them that I would forget what my mother was going through. Or what awaited me when I would have to go home.”
“You were a kid,” I repeat. “Your job was not to take care of your mother. She should have been the one taking care of you.”
He pulls out from underneath me and jumps out of bed. He stands beside it as he stares down at me. His face is full of rage. His blue eyes are darker than normal, and I know I went too far. Said too much.
“Who else was going to do it?” he demands. “He sure as hell wasn’t!” His voice rises. “On the outside he seemed like the fucking perfect husband and father. But inside that house he was the fucking devil.” His nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls quickly. “And she chose that life! She chose to get the crap beat out of her and beg for more. She put us in that position.”
I don’t know why his mother would choose to put herself and her son in that position. But she had to have felt like there was no way out for her. I sit up and start to make my way over to him. “I…”
“Don’t,” he snaps, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. “Don’t pretend like you fucking know what we went through.”
“I’m just trying to help,” I say as my throat tightens up. I can’t even imagine what he went through but it must have been his own personal hell.
“You can’t help me,” he shouts. “Quit trying.”
I feel the tears start to threaten my eyes. He places his fists on the bed and leans over; his hard face is inches from my face. “Quit trying to save something that’s not worth saving, sweetheart. If that’s what this is about, you’re just wasting your time.” Sweetheart was not said in an endearing way. His words were hard as steel and as cold as ice, freezing my heart.
“Tate…” I say, and my voice wavers when his dark blue eyes narrow on me. I get it. I truly do. His wounds go deeper than I thought they did. He can’t escape them even in his dreams. “We all have things that haunt us,” I say softly.
He throws his head back and lets out a short, rough laugh. It’s dark and sends a chill up my spine. He then straightens and crosses his arms over his hard, tattooed, and scarred chest. “Really? You trying to give me a therapy session?” He arches a dark eyebrow. “What the fuck could you possibly know about that? What things haunt you?” Before I can answer he continues. “What nightmares could you possibly have?” he sneers, his anger rising once again. “You quit school. So what? Did that show your parents that you’re not the perfect little princess that they thought you were?” His last question comes out calmly and it makes them hurt even more. He’s no longer yelling out of control. He wants to hurt me. He wants me to run.
“Stop,” I say as I try to swallow the lump in my throat. He has no idea what I’ve been through.
“Why?” he questions as he con
tinues to look down at me with hatred. Those dark blue eyes that I love rip me apart with how much they have seen. “’Cause you don’t wanna talk about it?” He uncrosses his arms and holds them out in front of him. “I want to! I want to know why…”
“Because of you,” I cry losing my battle to keep it in. I quit because of what my night with him led me to.
“You quit school because of me?” He rolls his eyes as if that’s a ridiculous answer. To him my reasons are childish. “Why? Because I fucked you in Vegas and then didn’t want to marry you afterwards?” he snaps. “Wake up, Missy. I’ve told you once before, this is not some fairy tale relationship. Hell, this isn’t a relationship at all!” he reminds me. “This is us fucking until one of us gets tired and moves on.”
His words of ice are like a blade through my chest. I didn’t think it could hurt any more. I didn’t think that he could make me feel worse than Vegas. I was wrong. I’ve always been wrong about Tate. Maybe he is the dark and heartless person he portrays himself to be.
Tears roll down my face and I lower my head to look down at the bedspread—the same bedspread that we slept in last night—and it breaks my heart. How could I have been so stupid to come over? To give him another piece of me? I don’t want to give him any more tears, but I can’t stop them. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of looking like the pathetic love-struck woman. But how many times can he break my heart? How many times can I try to piece it back together before I just leave it lying broken on the floor?
I keep my head down as I crawl to the end of the bed and pull his shirt up and over my head quickly before I place my tank top on. I find my underwear and yoga pants. I finish getting dressed as quickly as I can.
I start to walk to his bedroom door. I move slower than I want to. I want him to grab my arm, to stop me, in hopes that he will apologize. That he will tell me that he didn’t mean those things. That he can give me hope that he can be saved. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say one word or make one move. So I make my way through the house and I keep my eyes on the floor as I silently cry. I even ignore Parker in the living room. I don’t bother to ask him why he is up at this hour and I don’t answer him when he asks me what’s wrong.
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