Shortly after I moved in with Harlow, Blake offered me a discounted rate at one of the duplexes at “The Place”. I almost turned it down, knowing that the memories of Noah and the time we spent there would be difficult, but it was too good to pass up. So, I accepted his offer and moved in the next week. Trace gave me a portion of my trust fund money to pay for six months up front. I figured that would be the smartest thing to do.
I thought it would be difficult living alone, but it’s not. I love it. Dr. Jordan says I’m adjusting well. Anytime I have any anxiety, or feel myself starting to focus on the past, I tell her and we talk through it. But, oddly enough, I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I just continue moving forward, focusing on school and work while learning how to handle actual responsibility, like paying bills on time. It’s freeing, actually, to be a grown up.
As I pull the Jeep into the gated entrance of “The Place”, I find my mind drifting to Noah. It happens from time to time. In fact, for the first couple of months that I lived here, I would think of him every time I passed through the gates. Now, it’s fleeting, but every time it happens, I still have to catch my breath. I know one day I’ll be over him, but it’s just not that easy to let go of the memories.
I think your first love just sort of etches themselves in your heart and remains there forever.
Turning onto my street, I notice a motorcycle in front of my duplex. Wondering if Trace traded his truck in for a bike, and also if Harlow was okay with that purchase, I park the Jeep in my driveway and jump out, heading over to the bike. Running the tips of my fingers across the sleek black paint of the gas tank, I admire its beauty. I could definitely spread my wings on this. Just the thought plants a smile on my face.
After one more pass of my fingers, I stop dreaming and turn to head up the sidewalk. Just as I do, a man sitting on the stoop of my porch catches my eye. Reaching into my purse, I grab my keys and curl my fingers around the base of the longest one. I really should get some mace or something.
“Hello,” I croak, my throat suddenly parched.
Gazing at his joined hands dangling between his knees as he sits, he looks up at the sound of my voice. Our eyes lock and an inaudible gasp passes through my lips, sending my heart plummeting into my stomach. My whole body goes rigid, causing me to stop where I stand.
Noah rises to his feet, wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans as he stands. Taking my first good look at him, my heart jumps back into my chest, pounding against my ribcage as I rake him over with my eyes. Thick, black leather bracelets cover his wrists, matching the t-shirt clinging to his even more sculpted chest and stretching across his rounded biceps. His trademark faded jeans are shredded at the knees and frayed at the bottoms where they cover the tops of a pair of black Harley boots. His hair has grown, the ends messy and sticking out every which way on his head, and damn if he doesn’t have a sexy amount of stubble lining his face. But the most striking thing about his appearance has nothing to do with his looks. It’s the peace and confidence that he exudes as he stands there, looking back at me.
He’s absolutely mouthwatering. Good boy gone bad, with a hint of rebel and a side of sexy.
I’m so screwed.
Fighting the urge to run to him and jump into his arms, I lessen my grip on the base of the key now digging its way into my palm, and inhale deeply before relaxing my stance, still maintaining my distance from him. We eye each other cautiously before he speaks.
“Tatum.” The sound of his voice sends a wave of electricity to my chest.
Clearing my throat, again, I respond, “Noah.”
A sexy lopsided smile crosses his face, exposing his dimple as he steps off the stoop and approaches me. “Well, now that we have the formal introductions out of the way.” He stops a couple of feet in front of me, shoving his hands in his pockets as he nervously chuckles, eyes on me the entire time.
“Long time, no see. How have you been?” he asks.
I force a swallow before answering. “Good. Busy. And you? Are you already on winter break?”
Just the mention of Harvard reminds me that he’s not mine to have, no matter how much I still want him. And I do. I’m beginning to think I always will.
He laughs and shakes his head. “No. I’m on permanent break. I withdrew months ago.”
My jaw hits the ground and my head jerks back from shock. “What?” As his words sink into my dumbfounded brain, the brutal reality of what he just said hits me like a wrecking ball. “What did your father say? Are you okay? Is that why you’re here?” I fire the questions at him as my eyes scan his body frantically for any signs of that asshole laying a hand on him.
“No,” he states, his eyes full of amusement as I frantically step forward. Reaching out, I take hold of one of his arms, yanking it from the safety of his pocket and flipping it over for thorough examination. His lips twitch as he removes the other hand, extending it toward me and turning it over on his own. “I’m fine. I’m actually here for a whole different set of reasons.”
Narrowing my eyes at his flippant action, I exhale deeply from relief. “Like?” I ask.
My fingers still curled around his arm, he pulls it back slowly until my hand falls into his. After clutching it tightly, he steps forward leading us in the direction of my front door and turns to face me when we reach it.
“You,” he says with such conviction and intensity, my face warms. Squeezing my hand, he opens the door that I’m pretty sure I locked this afternoon when I left to go to Sadie’s. Entering the house, the fragrance of flowers saturates the air. Breathing it in, I look around only to see every single flower imaginable lining my living room clear into the kitchen.
After eying them all, I glance back to Noah, who smiles and innocently shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve never gotten you flowers before. I didn’t know which was your favorite, so I just got a variety of them.”
Slowly, he guides me over to the sofa and gestures for me to sit. Which is perfect because between him showing up randomly on my front porch and now this, I kind of feel like I’m going to pass out. He, however, does not take a seat. Releasing my hand, he walks back to my bedroom, and I cringe on the couch, realizing that his Ramones t-shirt now serves as my pillow case. Mentally smacking my forehead, I watch as he exits my room carrying a medium sized black box with both hands.
Rounding the couch, he opts to sit in the oversized chair that I have placed at the head of the coffee table, just a few feet away from me. Setting the box on the table, he positions himself in my direction and places his elbows on his knees, joining his hands in front of them.
Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he exhales and raises his eyes to mine. “The last couple of months, I’ve been spending time figuring out who I want to be. Who I am, actually. And I wanted you to know that. It’s important for me to tell you that while I left you a boy, Tate, I’ve returned a man.” He nervously drops his gaze once again while taking a gulp of air, but then leans closer to me, meeting me eye-to-eye. “A man who is, and who always will be, hopelessly in love with you.”
Unlatching his fingers, he reaches forward, seeking permission to hold my hand. After taking an anxious breath, I extend my arm and he takes my hand into his, cupping his other one over the top of it. Scooting to the edge of his seat, he continues.
“Night after night, I dreamt of you. Day after day, thoughts of you consumed my mind. You were never absent from me. I need you to know that.”
Unable to speak, I nod. Removing his top hand, he curls my fingers over his, bringing them to his face where he brushes them lightly with his lips before lowering it.
“I had to leave you, in order to find me. That’s the only way this would work. I know that now.” He tightens his stare. “But you also needed to find yourself. Figure out who you are on your own, without me driving you to do so.”
Nodding again, I tighten my grip on his fingers as tears begin to surface. He’s more right than he will ever realize.
“Last night, someth
ing told me it was time. That we were ready. So, I came here, hoping that my instinct was right.”
Letting go of me, he leans over to take hold of the box and then extends his arms in my direction, offering me the package.
“I hope that, in our time apart, you have found the peace that you’ve been searching for. I also pray that, in all of your personal growth, you haven’t outgrown me. Outgrown us. But that’s the chance I took when I let you go. I knew it then, and I know it now.”
His eyes break from mine, directing his gaze at the box now in my hands.
“Regardless, I wanted to give you this. While I was gone, I wrote constantly. I turned out hundreds of songs, all inspired by you. I want you to have them. These are your songs, Tate. My heart as I give it to you.”
Trembling, I stare as I set the gift in my lap and slowly lift the lid. Once it’s removed, I place it beside me, and move the tissue paper aside until I see the most beautiful leather bound journal I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve seen a lot of journals.
Hands still shaking, my finger outlines the lettering etched on the front.
Tatum
Removing it, I set the empty box on the coffee table in front of me and open to the inscription on the first page, running my fingertips delicately over it as I read.
Teardrops fall onto the page as I read. Wiping them as soon as they land, I look back up at him, only to see his eyes shining as they watch my reaction. Reaching toward the book, he turns the page to the first song.
“This one is my favorite. Just in case you’re wondering.” Leaning over the side of the chair, he pulls his guitar from my floor, and crosses it over his lap, starting his first downward strum with his thumb. Looking back up at me, he gives me a sexy, dimpled, lopsided smile as he begins my song.
My Salvation
Life is relentless,
As it leads you down its path,
Things once thought important,
Often lost in the aftermath.
But then I found you,
And I looked into your eyes,
My heart was overtaken,
My life baptized.
My beautiful savior,
You resurrected my soul,
It’s your very existence,
That makes me whole.
You’re the reason I breathe,
A breath full of life,
Forcing me to feel,
Though it cuts like a knife.
On my knees,
I say a silent prayer,
That when I open my eyes,
You will be there.
But if you choose to go,
I understand it knowing,
That in this process,
We both are growing.
To be the people we dreamed,
That we one day would be,
Just knowing that,
I’m okay if you don’t choose me.
My beautiful savior,
You resurrected my soul,
It’s your very existence,
That makes me whole.
Let’s fly high,
My little bird,
Together or apart,
We’ll make our difference in this world.
I can only hope now,
That we’re meant to be,
And that after time,
You can also see.
I loved you once,
I do still,
Forever and always,
I will.
My beautiful savior,
You resurrected my soul,
It’s your very existence,
That makes me whole.
You alone are my salvation.
By the time he’s finished, the page is utterly soaked. Luckily, the ink hasn’t bled. If I know Noah, he was more than prepared for my reaction.
Tears stream from my eyes because those beautiful words encapsulate the very essence of the way I feel about Noah. He saved me as much as I saved him. Although we were separated during our progressions, it was our time together that sparked our desire to become the people we were supposed to be and to let go of the past. The pasts that we’ve now conquered.
I know for certain that he loves me.
That I love him.
And together, we are each other’s future.
Closing the journal and setting it inside the box, I slowly rise from the couch. Noah’s glistening brown eyes follow me as I take two small steps toward him, slowly crawling onto his lap and straddle his stomach, much the same reaction I had when he played for me the very first time. I can’t help it — neither my body nor my heart is under my control. Not that they ever really were after loving Noah Reese. I gave them both to him a long time ago.
Raising his hand, he curls his fingers around my neck, pulling me into him and kissing my mouth gently, but with so much passion, I crumble within his hold.
“I love you, Noah,” I say through my kisses.
Smiling against my mouth, he responds, “I love you, Tate. More than you could ever possibly imagine.”
Pressing my lips softly against his, a thought crosses my mind. I can’t suppress the giggle as it works its way out of my mouth. Breaking our kiss, he leans away from me, humor filling his eyes. “What’s so funny?”
I push myself off of his chest and smile as I look down at him. “You know, if you start a music career, and I have this reaction every time I hear one of your songs, this could be a definite problem.”
Chuckling under his breath, he grins in return. “Of course I’m starting a music career. What do you think I’ve been working on these past four months?”
Slowly, I trail my fingers down his cheek and then lean into him, placing a light kiss on the corner of his mouth before rising back to meet his eyes. “Finding yourself.”
He simply shakes his head and then cups my cheek with his hand, stroking it tenderly with his thumb.
“No, Tate. I was finding my way back to you.”
Taking his face into my hands, I pull him to me and kiss him with every ounce of love that I have in my heart, love that never ceased to exist, knowing for certain that although we’ve both experienced our share of demons, we’ve finally triumphed over them in finding ourselves, in turn finding each other.
I wasn’t kidding when I told Tate that I’d been working on getting my music career started while I was gone.
After spending a week or two soul-searching, I settled into getting used to my new-found life of constant travel — the motels, the long riding hours, finding out about and planning how to get to the next big music gathering. I settled in to living my life. And I knew what I had to do.
Work my ass off to become a full-time lyricist.
That’s where my heart is. That’s what makes me happy, and that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life if lucky enough to have the chance. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t put 100% into making that dream come true. So, in every single city I stayed in, I handed out music to any person who would take it and got the addresses for everyone else, mailing out twenty or thirty lyric sets at a time.
Two weeks after coming back to Waco, I received a call from a music label interested in buying some of them for a substantial amount of money. Now I, of course, was thrilled. Tatum, however, took it to a whole new level.
After screaming at the top of her lungs and jumping into my arms, wrapping her long-ass legs around my waist, squeezing and kissing me so hard I almost passed out, she went straight into action, setting up a celebratory get-together with friends and family. Even Mrs. Harris got an invite. Her screaming cackle in response may or may not have caused permanent hearing damage.
I grin to myself. Just the memory of Tatum and her overwhelming excitement for me makes me smile like a goofy, love-struck douchebag. Because it just so happens, that’s exactly what I am.
Exiting my duplex, which is thankfully located just a couple of streets over from Tatum’s, we’re hand-in-hand about to head to my current place of employment, “The Office”
— the venue for this celebratory get-together. It’s funny how things work out. Trace did, in fact, need a bartender, seeing as though Tatum had just put her resignation in a week before my visit and, of course, I happily took her place. Let’s just say, the mandatory training sessions were…fun.
And a little chilly at times.
Turning to her and handing her my helmet, I give her a once over and shake my head. “I really think we need to take the Jeep. It’s too cold and that coat only takes care of the top half of you. Plus, there’s no way you’re going to be able to ride the bike in that dress. In fact,” I chuckle, hooking my arm around her waist and pulling her into me, “Maybe we should just take it off, right now.” Lowering my head, I press my lips against hers, tasting her as I dart my tongue over her bottom lip. Just as I dive into her mouth, she presses herself away and smacks my arm.
“No, sir,” she scolds through laughter. “I’ll be fine. I love the bike and I want to ride on it. Besides, I didn’t get all dressed up only to have you rip my clothes off within five minutes, buddy.” She glances down at her tight ass red dress which, by the way, looks fucking fantastic as it hugs every curve of her body. Plucking the hem away from the skin on her thigh, she pulls it with her fingers and lets in snap back into place. “Plus, it’s stretchy, see? I can ride in it.” As she looks back up at me with her big blue eyes, I’m forced to lean over and brush my lips against hers.
“Well, then, maybe it doesn’t have to come off.” This earns me a punch to the bicep.
“Fine,” I say, backing away from her with a mischievous grin on my face. “There’s always the cooler.”
She laughs again, but nods. My already rigid dick responds by tripling in girth. Thanks for that, Tate. Nothing like riding with a hard-on.
Taking the helmet back from her, I slide it over her sleek, black hair and buckle it under her chin. Standing up on her tiptoes, she gives me a peck on the lips before I watch her fine ass climb onto the bike with her five inch black heels and straddle the back of the seat.
Running in Place (Mending Hearts) Page 22
