Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia #4)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  Jude chuckled, shifting the truck into gear. “Yes, there is Tater Tot.” He smirked like his ridiculous nickname for me was so clever and cute. I wondered what he’d think of it when I stabbed him with a pencil—or whatever other sharp object I could get my hands on. “If you didn’t ride with me, we wouldn’t get to have such enlightening conversations. And remember our bet?” I nodded reluctantly at his question. “This is the perfect time for each of us to ask our one question.”

  Buckling the seatbelt I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. “I deserve a giant bowl of ice cream for dealing with you.”

  “With gummy bears on top?”

  I gagged at the mention of those devilish little creatures. “Never. Again.” I assured him.

  He chuckled. “I really am sorry about that, just so you know.”

  “I’m sure you’re very apologetic,” I muttered, my voice laced with sarcasm as I looked out the window.

  “Let me put it this way, I’m sorry you got sick, but I’m not sorry I got to spend the night with you.”

  I looked over to find him watching the road, his expression serious. There was no crinkling of his eyes or smirk on his lips. He was serious.

  I chose not to comment on that. I’d probably only end up getting in an argument with him if I did and frankly, he wasn’t worth it.

  As silence stretched between us, he asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

  Once again, I was surprised by the simplicity of his question.

  I didn’t look at him as I answered. “It always changes, depending on my mood and where I’m at, but right now it’s orange.”

  “Why?”

  I decided to answer instead of telling him he’d already asked me one question. Sometimes, I just needed to talk to someone—about anything—it just really sucked that I was stuck with Jude.

  “Because of that,” I nodded out the truck window at the setting sun. “It’s beautiful, warm, vibrant…” It was everything I wasn’t. “It comes every evening, but it’s always slightly different—the colors brighter and more vivid, or dulled depending on the weather. It’s always pretty though.”

  He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t expecting that detailed of a response.”

  I shrugged. The answer was more for myself than him, anyway. Even if he did ask.

  “What’s your question for me?”

  I ignored him for a moment, so I could gather my thoughts. I rolled the window down and let it whip my hair around. It was really still too cold outside for this—winter was only beginning to melt away—but I didn’t care. The cold air helped to calm me.

  “Why did you help me?” I don’t know why that was the question that popped into my head. It wasn’t even really the one I wanted to ask, but apparently my mouth had different ideas.

  “What do you mean?” His gaze flicked briefly my way—long enough for me to see his thick brows furrowed together across his forehead like a caterpillar.

  “Why did you help me the other night, when I was sick? You didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you had more important things to do than hold my hair back as I puked confetti.” I said the words quickly, desperate to get them out. I felt antsy since Friday night. I’d spent most of my weekend pacing my house, and when I couldn’t take that any longer I hung out at Griffin’s and got buzzed on coffee.

  He chuckled at my confetti comment but quickly sobered. “I don’t know why you hate me,” his voice softened and when his eyes briefly connected with mine I was shocked to see hurt shining so clearly in them. “I’m actually a nice guy. Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively, “I know I’ve been with a lot of girls, and never in a relationship, but…it’s easier not to get attached.” His voice had quieted so much with the last bit that I wasn’t even sure I heard him. I really wondered what he meant by that comment, but I’d already asked my one question and I didn’t want to push my luck.

  We fell into silence for the rest of the drive to the nursing home.

  I was cursing myself for not getting something from the vending machine at the library before we left. It was already five o’clock and I was used to eating dinner at this time. I didn’t dare tell Jude I was hungry. Not even when we passed a McDonald’s and my stomach rumbled like a jumbo jet.

  “Was that—?”

  “No,” I quickly cut him off. “I don’t know what that was. Maybe a plane.” I proceeded to look out the window, totally playing up the plane thing.

  He laughed, banging his fist against the steering wheel. I was surprised tears weren’t streaking his cheeks at this point, since he was laughing so hard. Like the kind of laughter that shakes your whole body. “I will never understand why so many girls won’t admit they’re hungry.”

  I hated being compared to anyone else, especially lumped into a category as ambiguous as girls. Honestly, what did that even mean?

  “Fine, turn around and take me to McDonald’s so you can watch me devour a Big Mac.”

  He looked at the clock on the dashboard and shrugged lightly, immediately executing a very dangerous U-turn that had illegal written all over it. “We’ve got time,” he said when he saw my open mouthed expression.

  “You could have killed us!” I cried in shock at the Duke’s of Hazzard move he’d pulled.

  “And before you got your Big Mac?” He joked. “That would’ve been a shame. But you’re okay, so it’s all good.”

  “You infuriate me,” I seethed, glaring out the window. After Graham’s wreck I was always scared to be in a car. For a long time I wouldn’t even drive. The stunt Jude had pulled startled me. I didn’t like not being in control.

  I didn’t stay mad for long though once I saw the McDonald’s. I was too hungry to care.

  Jude pulled his truck around in the drive-thru and placed our order. I slid over beside him and yelled into the speaker that I wanted a Hi-C and an Oreo McFlurry. When I returned to my previous position he shook his head, a small almost boyish smile lifting his lips.

  “What?” I prompted, pushing stray pieces of hair out of my eyes. It was honestly too long now, but I refused to cut it.

  “You’re going to have a severe sugar rush in an old folks home. I’m really looking forward to watching this play out.” His smile grew wider and I was sure he was probably imagining something silly—like me singing, dancing, and spinning around in wheelchairs.

  “I’m hungry,” I responded, “and no meal is complete without desert.”

  “That doesn’t explain the Hi-C,” he countered, sitting up a bit to grab his wallet out of his back pocket. “That drink is for five years old, and doesn’t it turn your tongue blue or something?”

  “Red,” I answered, “and you’re not paying for my food.” My protests went unheard as I dug through my backpack for the money I kept stashed there.

  He handed the lady working at the window his credit card and tilted his head to look at me. “Last time I checked, it was the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “Last time I checked,” I countered, smiling despite the fact that I shouldn’t be enjoying this at all, “there was nothing gentlemanly about you.”

  “Touché,” he chuckled heartily, scratching his chin as he waited for her to hand him his card and the receipt.

  Once he had it he pulled up to the next window where they handed us our food.

  He busted out in laughter at the sound I made upon smelling the food. I was starved and the smell of a greasy cheeseburger was calling my name. I didn’t think I had ever wanted anything more than I wanted that burger.

  I set my food in my lap and handed Jude his so he could eat as he drove. He promptly shoved a handful of fries in his mouth, chewing loudly. The fries stuck out of his mouth like the tentacles of an octopus. I couldn’t help laughing. “What?” He asked around the mouthful. He took a large sip of his soda and said, “Isn’t this how everyone eats their fries?”

  “No,” I shook my head, eating one single fry to make a point.

  He shrugged. “I’m a man and that’s how we eat
fries.”

  “Maybe if you were a caveman,” I mumbled under my breath, but he heard me even over the music blasting from the radio.

  “Cavemen didn’t have the convenience of drive-thru’s or the salty deliciousness of French fries.”

  At his words I realized I would never win in an argument with Jude. Well, more like neither one of us would win. We were both far too argumentative and neither of us would back down.

  I took a bite of my burger, unable to hold back a moan. I really needed to stop forgetting to eat. It wasn’t healthy.

  As I chewed, I watched Jude out of the corner of my eye and noticed him squirming in his seat. “What are you doing?” I asked, and then when he explained I really wished I hadn’t.

  “I’m a guy, and when you make noises like that I can’t stop my reaction.”

  My eyes flicked down and then away. “Oh,” was all I could say. I could have come back with something rude, but then I would’ve looked like an idiot and I didn’t want to argue with him anymore. Especially since I still had to spend the majority of my evening with him.

  Jude parked in the back lot of the nursing home and we finished our meal in silence. He looked longingly at my Oreo McFlurry, and I told him, “You should’ve gotten one.”

  “And maybe you should share.” He suggested with a coy smile, like if he flirted with me it would make me willingly give up the most delicious substance on Earth. I was pretty sure ice cream could solve all the worlds’ problems. I always had the freezer stocked with it.

  “Come anywhere near my ice cream, Brooks, and I will not hesitate to bite you.”

  “Biting makes things interesting,” he smirked.

  “Not if I bite your hand off,” I replied easily. “Whatever will you do then?” I eyed the noticeable bulge straining against his jeans.

  “Guess you’ll have to help me with that, Tater Tot.”

  “I’ll gladly help you to an early grave.” My words shut me up, and Jude too. I wasn’t sure if it was for the same reason though. I thought of Graham. Of that twisted sheet of metal wrapped around a tree. How we had to bury him in a closed casket because there wasn’t much left. I shouldn’t have had to bury my brother at that age. He was far too young with his whole life ahead of him. My parent’s shouldn’t have been around to watch their oldest child lowered into the ground. From the moment Graham died, my life was filled with shouldn’t. I hated that word now. I hated a lot of things. Mostly myself.

  “I’m sorry,” Jude whispered. I’m sure he’d guessed where my mind went.

  “Don’t fucking apologize when you don’t mean it,” I snapped. My tone was icy calm, but my words were more heated than normal. I didn’t normally get upset over much, but Jude and anything involving Graham always got my temper stirring.

  “I do mean it.” His words were almost a plea, trying to get me to believe that he was a good guy. But he wasn’t. He killed my brother and he didn’t even know it.

  My anger got the best of me and I threw the half-melted McFlurry at him. Ice cream splattered everywhere. All over him, his clean scrubs, the cab of the truck, and even me.

  I got out of the truck slamming the door behind me. I started walking in the opposite direction. I wasn’t sure where I was going. It didn’t matter. I had to get away.

  But Jude had other plans.

  “Tatum!”

  He was right behind me and there was no escape. I whipped around so fast that he stopped in his tracks. I was crying, I felt the tears now, but I hadn’t even known they were there a moment ago. All my anger, all my frustration bubbled out of me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. That’s what I’d been doing for seven years. I had to crack eventually and now was that moment.

  “I hate you!” I screamed at the man in front of me with vanilla ice cream and Oreo’s caked into his hair and scrubs. “I hate you so fucking much that it eats me up inside! I can’t stand to look at you, knowing what you did! That it’s your fault! It’s not fair that you get to parade around like you own the place, fuck every girl you see, and my brother is dead because you couldn’t keep your fucking dick in your pants!” Jude’s mouth formed a perfect O of shock as I yelled at him. “You destroyed my life! You stomped all over it and you didn’t even care!” I couldn’t breathe I was so worked up. I clutched at my chest. Now that I was yelling I couldn’t seem to stop. I needed to get it all out in the open. I was sick of holding everything in and pretending I was okay when I wasn’t. I was always the person plastering on a brave face when inside I was breaking apart. I didn’t care what Jude thought of me, and since he was the source of every ounce of hatred I felt, I guessed it was appropriate that I lost my cool with him. “I lost not only my brother, but my best friend! One day he was there and the next he wasn’t! My mom won’t even look at me anymore! Did you know that?! It’s like I’m a ghost in my own house! My dad’s barely even there! When you killed Graham you killed them too! And you might as well have killed me, because I’ve never been the same!”

  “Tate, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was deceptively calm. I could see the storm brewing in his eyes. He was pissed, but he was trying not to show it. If I wasn’t mistaken there was some fear too. He should be afraid.

  “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you did,” I spat.

  “I really don’t.”

  I wanted to punch him in the face. Maybe it would knock some sense into him, but probably not.

  The fight was leaving my body and I turned to leave once more.

  I wanted to forget about Jude, this stupid project, and definitely how nice it had been to be snuggled in his arms.

  At sixteen years old I had vowed to hate Jude Brooks for the rest of my life for the damage he’d caused. I was not about to break that promise.

  Chapter Five

  After I walked away from Jude, Rowan was kind enough to pick me up and drive me back to school to get my car. Then she insisted on following me home and she hadn’t left yet. She sat beside me at the bar that extended from the island in the kitchen. I had a bowl of vanilla ice cream with three Twizzlers in it. After all, I hadn’t really gotten to eat my McFlurry. I propped my head up with one hand and slowly ate the ice cream with the other. Normally, ice cream always made me feel better. Not now though.

  “You have to tell me what happened,” Rowan pleaded, looking at me with wide hazel eyes.

  “No.”

  “It’s in the code of Best Friends,” she continued. “So, you have to tell me.”

  “Then don’t be my best friend, I really don’t care.”

  “Tatum.” The way she said my name was the tone of a mother scolding her child.

  “Rowan.”

  Her lips pursed and we ended up in a staring contest. She caved first and I ate a Twizzler to celebrate my small victory.

  “I just want to understand why you hate him so much. I think I deserve an explanation. I’ve been dealing with you two for over a year now. And I don’t care what you say, but there’s definitely chemistry between you guys. Oh my God,” she gasped, “is that why you hate him? Did he screw you over in high school or something?”

  “Absolutely not.” I was appalled that she’d suggest such a thing. “I have never, and will never, be one of his play things.”

  “Then explain it to me.” She eyed me, waiting for me to cave.

  She reached for the spoon that lay in my bowl of ice cream but I swatted her hand away. “Get your own.”

  “Fine, I will.”

  Rowan made her own bowl of ice cream and sat beside me once more. I was lucky that when we got here my mom was nowhere to be seen. Usually, when I got home and she wasn’t downstairs it meant she was in Graham’s room. I always knew not to bother her when she was in there.

  In all the time that I’d been friends with Rowan this was the first time she’d ever set foot in my house. I’d never wanted to explain my family to her and she didn’t know about Graham. She was the only normal thing I had in my life.

 
; “I’m not leaving here until you give me some answers, Tate,” she eyed me and her look was determined. Rowan was a woman of her word, so I knew I better spit it out or she’d be sleeping on the floor of my bedroom.

  I started from the beginning, telling her about Graham and his girlfriend and how Jude slept with her. I told her about Graham’s supposed accident, and how I found a suicide note in his bedroom and knew it was no accident at all.

  “Jude mentioned that to me a long time ago,” she whispered, “he said you kicked him in the balls for sleeping with your brother’s girlfriend.”

  “I did,” I confirmed. “I wanted to do a lot more than that, actually,” I muttered, looking away. “Graham wasn’t even dead yet then. That happened a week later.”

  “I still don’t see how Graham killing himself has anything to do with Jude.”

  “It has everything to do with Jude,” I glared at her. “Wait here.”

  When I was sure she wasn’t going to follow me, I jogged upstairs and opened the drawer in the table beside my bed. I pulled out the folded piece of paper. It was yellow now and ripped in places from the many times I’d held it.

  When I passed Graham’s room on my way down, sure enough my mom was in there. She sat on the edge of his bed, clutching his pillow. I hated hearing her cry. She’d cried every day at least once since the police showed up at our house. You’d think by now she would’ve run out of tears. But as long as you have something to cry about, they never dry up.

  Back in the kitchen I handed Rowan the note.

  I’d read it so many times I had it memorized.

  Hi Tatie. I know you’ll be the one to find this. I don’t have any words right now other than I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother and son. I’m sorry I couldn’t be perfect. Now, Tatie, stop looking like that—I’m sure right about now you have your face screwed up in disbelief. But you know better than anyone else that I’m not perfect. I try so hard to be, but it’s an impossible mission and I’m sick of trying.

  What happened with Kaitlin broke my heart. I loved her, but apparently not enough. What she did showed me that life is a bunch of bullshit and I don’t want to deal with this anymore.