by Mj Fields
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tatum
Saying goodbye to Melanie is hard for her and me both. It is hard for her to understand the way he is. She doesn’t trust him. I assure her that, besides my parents and her, there is no human being in the world I trust more. When she tries again to talk me out of leaving, I tell her that it is my wish for her to someday understand. She laughs, telling me it is my job to make that happen.
Pulling out of the city in Angelo’s old truck, I put my hands to the glass to touch the city that I love so dearly, and he notices.
“You love it here,” he says with a bite in his tone.
“I love you more,” I whisper my truth.
I look up at him to see his grip on the steering wheel tightens and his jaw muscles tense. He says nothing.
This is not going to be any easier for him than it is for me. Regardless, there is nowhere I would rather be than with him.
“If you hadn’t found that stick, what would have happened today?” I ask bravely.
He doesn’t answer, driving silently.
I lean back in the seat and sigh.
After several minutes, he says, “I—me, not Jonathan—came to fuck you, not Annie.”
“It was always you and me,” I whisper as I look down at my hands.
“Well, it is now,” he grumbles, and that sound wounds me.
I look down, gripping the edge of the hard, worn leather seat, and hear him sigh right before he reaches over and grabs my hand.
Neither of us says a word as he drives, one hand on the wheel, the other holding mine.
I open my eyes and see the florescent lights of a gas station outside the windshield. My head is against his arm, and he is staring straight ahead.
He brings the truck to a stop, throws it in first, and sets the parking brake before turning his head to look down at me. “Gonna gas up. Need to use the restroom?”
I sit up, feeling woozy.
“You okay?” he asks, trying to mask the terror in his eyes.
I nod and move over, sliding my head back under the seatbelt before unbuckling it. When I reach to open the door, he is already opening it. That alone makes me feel better about all that has transpired. A simple act of kindness, a gentleman-like gesture.
When I smile at him, he cocks his head to the side and asks, “What?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I say the words I said to him months ago.
He lets out a slow, cleansing breath.
I hold my hand over my belly, telling him, “I haven’t had much time to think about this, but I’m not afraid of a baby, either.”
He shuts his eyes tightly as I swing my legs around and slide out of the seat to the ground. I feel a wave of nausea hit me again and lean over, hurling, barely missing his shoes and mine.
“Tatum.” His voice is panicked. “Dammit, tell me what to do.”
“We’re all right, Angelo. Everything is gonna be just fine,” I soothe him while trying to convince myself. It’s all so much to process in such a short amount of time.
“Life is about living, being, and experiencing. Tatum, live, be, and experience without reservation,” Gregory’s voice plays in my head like a silent blessing.
Angelo holds me close, and my nerves, the nausea, everything instantly calms, centers, and settles.
I wake up with my head on his lap when we pull up in front of the gym as the dawn is breaking. I look away from the window and back at him as he puts the truck in gear and turns it off.
He looks down at me and pushes the hair away from my face. “You feeling better?” His voice is deep and husky.
I smile and nod. “I haven’t been able to sleep in—”
“I know,” he sighs. “Let’s get you to bed.”
When we walk into Legacy, Buck is standing with his arms crossed, scowling at Angelo. “Not real fucking smart, taking off and not saying a damn thing.”
Out of the office, a huge bear of a dog trots up and sits on Angelo’s foot. He pats his head.
“Not anyone’s business,” Angelo tells Buck as he places his big hand on my back, guiding me toward the stairs.
“Well, what if you got caught, then where would I?” He pauses. “What would happen to the gym, to Mutt?”
Angelo looks at him with concern in his eyes, yet he’s tired and a little annoyed. “You got a place here, Buck, whether I’m here or not. Mutt would be happy anywhere. I didn’t ask for him; Hendrix and his wife would take his big-ass back,” he says as he starts walking again.
“Mutt likes you. Been sleeping in your bed, whining and shit. And Jagger would kick me out,” he says with raw fear in his voice.
“No, Buck, he wouldn’t.” Angelo now sounds somewhat defeated.
“He would, too,” Buck argues.
Angelo stops and looks at him. “You need to bury whatever issues you have with Jagger. He’s a good man; a good friend to have. You have his back, he’ll have yours.”
“Only person here that has my back is you.” Buck points at him.
“Show him something other than a stubborn little punk and—”
“I’m no fucking punk, Kid,” he snaps.
Angelo sighs. “I’m fucking exhausted, Buck. We can discuss this after I’ve had a few hours’ sleep.”
“Fine, whatever, not like it matters, anyway,” Buck huffs then looks at me and raises his chin. “Glad you’re back. Kid’s been a dick.”
“Buck, watch it,” Angelo warns.
“Glad to be back.” I smile at him as Angelo opens the door and guides me up the stairs. I hear the dog walking up behind us.
“Do I need to hang out down here?” Buck asks, sounding slightly annoyed.
“No, Buck, you live here,” Angelo says from over his shoulder as we reach the top of the stairs.
I scan the room as we walk through. The counter is cluttered with cups from The Bean.
I look at Angelo, and he shakes his head. “Shit’s almost as addicting as you.”
I can’t help smiling at that.
“You ready for some sleep, Tatum?”
“I’d like to use the bathroom first,” I say, and his hand leaves my back for the first time since I got out of the truck.
When I walk into his room after using the bathroom, he’s standing at the window, his back to me, the dog sitting by his side. I swear his muscles have gotten bigger. I can see them through his sweatshirt.
He sighs and uncrosses his arms, putting his hands on the glass.
I clear my throat, letting him know I’m in the room, and he turns around, snaps his fingers, and points at the dog bed beside the nightstand. The dog immediately goes over and lies down.
“Shirt’s right there for you to sleep in.” He points at a Legacy shirt on the bed. “I’m gonna go grab your things.”
I don’t want him to grab my bags. I want him to lie next to me and for him to hold me. I want to smell him, feel his arms around me, listen to his deep breaths as he smells me while I rest my head against his naked chest and let his strong, steady heartbeat lull me to sleep.
“Tatum?” he asks, looking down at me.
I can’t say anything. Not one word of the millions stuck in my head will come out of my mouth.
His beautiful eyes squint, and he swallows hard. He looks exhausted, and I feel horrible that I am the cause of it.
He steps closer and pushes my coat off my shoulders, and then out one arm at a time, pulling it off. I close my eyes when he takes the hem of my shirt and lifts it. I raise my arms as he pulls it up and over my head. Then he balls it up and shoots it into the gray laundry basket beside the dresser. When he turns back around and looks at me, he runs his thumb up my arm and under the shoulder strap of my bra. He then runs his large, callused thumb slowly back and forth over my skin. I never want him to stop touching me.
He slides the strap down my arm, and I pull it free. Then he does the same to the other side before he turns me around so I’m facing the bed. After he unhooks the bra, I let it fa
ll to the ground.
He grabs the t-shirt and pulls it over my head. The soft cotton of the shirt is a great contrast to his touch, and right now, I just want his touch.
“Climb in,” he says, kissing the back of my head. “I’ll be right back.”
He leaves the room quickly, and I climb into his bed.
When I hear the door close, the dog gets up, walks over, rests his enormous head on the mattress, and nudges my arm. I reach over and pet him.
Being here, being with him, I find peace.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Angelo
Five Days Later...
When I walk through the gym’s door after Muttley and my run, Jagger and Tatiana stop talking to look at me. I haven’t said a word about what happened before I left, and I know damn well I should apologize.
I unhook Mutt’s leash, and he heads toward the stairway door. Before I brought her back here, he always went and laid in the office. Now he wants to be up there with her. Can’t blame him, either. It takes all the will power in the world for me to leave her alone, but she needs time to figure out what the hell she’s going to do about the kid growing inside her. I haven’t pushed. I’m just as confused as she probably is.
I don’t want the responsibility, and I don’t want her to die because of my fucking carelessness. But the thought of something growing in her that is mine, the knowledge that we are forever bound by that, I want that, too, so much more than I care to admit.
I walk over and open the door, and Muttley hauls his ass up the stairs. Then I go grab a shake.
When I turn around, Jagger and Tatiana look away.
I reach out and tap Jagger on the shoulder, and he looks back at me. Then I take a deep breath because I have never, not once, had to apologize for a damn thing I have ever done in my life.
“All my choices and actions have been mine. Every fucking one of them. I’ve never felt ashamed of a damn thing.”
“The point?” he asks, his eyebrow creeping up.
“I shouldn’t have grabbed you. For that, I am sorry.”
“And he shouldn’t have hit you,” Tatiana says to me.
“I had him by the throat; he had every damn right to hit me,” I tell her. “It’s self-defense.”
I know I caused some damage between them by what I did, and that is what I am the sorriest for.
“Just like it was when you were trying to save your sister’s life,” Jagger says, and I feel like it knocks the wind out of me.
“Michel.”
I look over my shoulder to where the familiar male voice says my name. It’s my parole officer.
“Mr. Jordan?”
“Just checking in.”
“Why?” I ask. He has never just fucking dropped in before.
He holds up a bag. “We need to do one of these random piss tests before we consider your appeal.”
“My what?”
“Your writer friend apparently has a wide reach. Your request is being considered,” he says, holding out the bag. “Should know in a few weeks, as long as this doesn’t come back hot.”
I fight back the urge to tell him I don’t want the appeal. I did the crime, so I’ll do the time.
Muttley comes running toward me and skids to a stop. I look up from him to see Tatum closing the door behind her. She looks around, her cheeks pinkening and matching those lips that I have left alone for five days.
Five days she has slept on my chest. Five days she cooks, she eats, she’s on the computer, and she sleeps at least twelve hours a night, and naps, too.
The first couple of days, when I tried to start a conversation about what we are going to do about the kid growing in her, she rolled to her side and put her back to me.
Fucking hurts to be shut down, but I know damn well she is hurting, too.
This is so fucked up.
“Michel.” Jordan pushes the bag at me.
I look at Tatum, who mouths, “Please.”
I take the bag and head for the locker room, Jordan hot on my heels.
When we come out of the locker room, Tatum is standing next to Tatiana, and Jagger is staring down Mr. Jordan.
“Do you have a minute?” Tatum asks after Jordan leaves.
“He does,” Jagger answers for me, and I bite back the words I have for him.
I grab Muttley’s leash and hook him up before heading toward the door and opening it. “Ladies first.”
We walk silently for a while. I glance over as Muttley waters his favorite hydrant.
“You wanted to talk?” I ask. When she eyes me skeptically, I shake my head. “I’m not sure what you want from me, Tatum.”
She looks down. “Well, that makes two of us.”
I run my hand through my hair, still damp from sweat, and groan.
She looks up at me, the corner of her lips curving up in one corner.
“You’re laughing at my misery?”
“Misery is lying in bed while this little life is growing inside of you and causing you to feel like you’re going to throw up if you stand. Misery is listening to a man you love ask you if you’re going to keep it in a tone of someone who just stepped barefoot in a pile of dog poo.”
“That’s not true,” I tell her.
“It is true. It is, and I don’t want to make you miserable, Angelo. I love you.” She laughs. “And in the six days I have known about this child...” Her voice quivers as she lays her hands on her flat abdomen. “Regardless of how damn sick I feel, I cannot imagine ending something we created. I know that.”
I don’t let her finish. I grab the back of her head and pull her close enough to kiss those lips I have been starving for. She opens her mouth to me immediately, and I thrust my tongue into it. She moans as I pull her closer. Then she tries to pull away, but I hold her head still.
“I’m not fucking done with you, Tatum.”
“Muttley,” she says breathlessly.
“Shit,” I mutter as I regretfully release her and turn to grab the leash I dropped.
He’s trotting down the road, wagging his fucking tail. I whistle, but he doesn’t stop.
“Muttley, you fool, get back here,” I call out, jogging after him.
“Muttley.” Tatum laughs as the son of a bitch stops.
I turn back and watch her laugh. It’s beautiful.
“Get the dog,” she says, still laughing as she runs toward me.
She is so fucking beautiful. Her voice is my favorite sound. This woman owns my heart, and with the way she looks at me, I know damn well I own hers, too.
I turn and step on the leash, securing the mutt. Then I turn back around and grab her as she almost runs by me. Lifting her up so we are eye to eye, she links her hands behind my neck.
“I want this so bad with you, Tatum, but I am fucking terrified.”
“I’m going to be fine.” She smiles, pushing her forehead against mine.
“You damn well better make sure of it,” I demand, to which she laughs. “I’m not joking.”
“I will be.” She continues to smile as she kisses my nose. “But if you don’t put me down, I may throw up on you.”
I very gently set her down, mentally beating myself up for not being more fucking careful.
She grabs both sides of my face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re fine,” I repeat.
“So are you.” She smiles that same bright beautiful smile she did minutes ago. A smile for me, for us.
“I am,” I say, but I’m not feeling it, not yet.
“What is it, then?” she asks, rubbing the scruff of my beard with her fingertips.
“I love you, Tatum. I need to be more fucking careful. You need to be more careful.”
Again, she laughs. “I’ve been in bed for five days. I’m exhausted, but that’s normal.”
“How do you know?” I ask, taking her hands and holding both of them in one of mine while I grab the leash.
“I’ve read everything I can about the first trimester.”
I can’t help smiling at that. “Of course you have. I want you to show me. I want to know everything.”
“Of course.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tatum
I hear my phone ring on the nightstand and cover my head with a pillow. Angelo took the day off because he needs to do some research. Jagger and his wife looked at him like he was crazy, but only for a moment, because then he blurted out that his girlfriend was pregnant and he needed to find out how to keep me healthy and alive.
I was just as shocked as they were, and also a little embarrassed. At thirty-one years old, I feel like the word girlfriend is a little—no, make that a lot—odd.
Jagger laughed and smacked him on the back. Angelo tensed, but let it go.
Once upstairs, I showed him how Google works, and then we laid in bed while he read on my iPad. He also took notes in a journal, just like the one he bought at the bookstore.
I fell asleep watching his eyes widen and his facial expressions change with each word he read. It was exhausting seeing all the emotions in him. I also listened to his heartbeat speed up and slow down, speed up and slow down. The man was stressed, and I let him know it.
The phone stops ringing, and I start to fall back to sleep, when it starts again almost immediately.
I am determined to ignore it until I hear his voice and realize he answered my phone.
“Hello... Yes, this is Angelo, and Tatum is asleep... No, I’m not going to wake her up, Melanie. She needs her rest.” There is a long pause, and then, “She what...? Okay, well, I will tell her when she wakes up... I heard you and said I would tell her.”
“Listen to me,” I hear Melanie scream through the line. “Wake her up!”
“Listen to me,” he hisses. “No!”
I move the pillow off my head and roll onto my back.
He looks over at me and scowls. “You can’t lie on your back; it could cause issues with the pregnancy, Tatum.”
I push myself up into a seated position and hold my hand out for the phone.
“Fine,” he says and hands it to me.
I lean over and rub my thumb upward between his eyebrows. “Stop worrying. Everything is fine.”
