Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia #4)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  Yeah, yeah, I know. This is the coward’s way out.

  But Tatie, we both know that’s exactly what I am.

  I’ve let mom and dad plan out my whole life and I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy in a long time.

  I’m sick of living a life that doesn’t feel like mine.

  Maybe I’ll get lucky and I’ll come back as someone else.

  If that happens, I hope you’ll be my sister in every life.

  I can’t say it enough, but I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. Please.

  And whatever you do, don’t let mom and dad dictate your life like they did mine. Live your dreams, not theirs.

  —Graham

  Tears swam in my eyes when Rowan put the note aside.

  “Tate,” she said my name slowly, like it was a grenade she was afraid might detonate the moment the vibrations registered as sounds in my ear. She set the letter down and scooted closer to me, reaching for my hand, which I did not give her. “This doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with Jude.”

  “It has everything to do with him!” My voice rose and my body with it—one second I was sitting and the next I was standing, glowering down at Rowan like she was the source of all my problems. “Read it again! You’ll see!” I pointed at the letter like it held the answers to everything, which to me it did.

  “Tatum.”

  I couldn’t stand to hear the sadness in her voice. I wanted to cover my ears like a child and start humming so I didn’t have to hear whatever she was going to say next.

  “It sounds to me like,” she picked up the letter, scanning it once more, “Graham had more of a problem with your parents than with what happened with his girlfriend.”

  “That’s not true,” my bottom lip quivered. “It’s there, read it again. You have to see it. I’m not crazy. This is Jude’s fault! It’s his fault! If he hadn’t fucked Kaitlin, Graham would be here right now! He wouldn’t have killed himself! Please, read it again!”

  “Sweetie,” I flinched at the name. I didn’t want Rowan or anyone else calling me sweetie. It had such a condescending tone to it. “It sounds like that was a part of it, but in this letter he seems more pissed about your parents. Like they’re the source of his problems.”

  “My parent’s are good people.” My voice was quiet, no more than a whisper.

  “Good people do horrible things.” She bowed her head, her lips turning down in a frown. I knew she was thinking about how she kept her son a secret from Trenton.

  I picked up the letter from where it had been left on the counter and flattened it against my chest.

  “I think you should go now,” I whispered, unable to meet her gaze.

  “I know you don’t care what I have to say, but you need to realize that your brother’s death is no one’s fault. Not yours. Not your parent’s. And certainly not Jude’s. He made his choice, Tate. Stop living in the past, it’s holding you back. You deserve to be happy and not…this,” she waved a hand at my morose expression.

  She didn’t say anything more, just walked out of the kitchen and then out of the house. The sound of the front door closing felt like a slap to my face.

  With a sigh, I looked towards the bowl of ice cream.

  It was completely melted now.

  Apparently today was not my day for sweets—or anything for that matter.

  

  I felt his eyes on me before I saw him. It was like my body was always acutely aware anytime Jude was near. I didn’t like it one bit.

  I looked up from where I pushed my lunch around on the tray.

  “Mind if I sit?” He asked, reaching up to adjust the beanie he wore.

  “Something tells me that if I say no you’re going to sit anyway.” I mumbled, not bothering to lift my eyes to look at him.

  “That’s true,” he shrugged, dropping his backpack on the ground and sitting across from me. Rowan was suspiciously absent. Something told me they’d orchestrated this. In fact, I probably didn’t want to know how much those two talked about me. “What happened yesterday? I can’t figure it out. I’ve been racking my brain and I honestly don’t know what I did that could have anything to do with your brother’s death. His death was an accident. It was a freak thing and it had nothing to do with me.” His brown eyes pleaded with me to understand him as he looked at me through a veil of thick lashes.

  “It wasn’t an accident,” I mumbled, glaring at my half-eaten food.

  “Yes it was,” he sighed, clearly exasperated with me. He removed the beanie he wore, ran his fingers through his unruly brown hair, and replaced it. I think he just wanted to do something to busy himself. I’d been around Jude enough to know that he didn’t like to sit still. He was a doer.

  I shook my head. “Graham killed himself. He crashed his car, because he couldn’t deal with what you’d done.” I was becoming more heated by the second and I might just throw my food at him. My mom always told me that as a child I was the queen of temper tantrums. Apparently I never outgrew that.

  “What the fuck did I do?” He spread his arms wide. “I’m so confused! I didn’t even know your brother.”

  “You knew his girlfriend,” I spat, my cheeks growing red with anger.

  “Ohhhh,” he drew the word out and his eyes lit with recognition. “That’s what this is about.” Smirking like he always did, he said, “Tater Tot’s jealous. This is cute.”

  I blanched, unable to reply. “That’s not what this is about at all. God, you’re so fucking conceited it’s sickening.” Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Still think you can father a child after that kick I gave you?”

  Jude was unfazed by my words. “Want to find out?”

  “Ugh,” I stood, gathering my bag and leaving my food on the table. “I don’t have to deal with this,” I muttered, and did what I did best, which was to walk away.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted, running after me and cornering me in an alcove.

  I rolled my eyes, looking down at the ground and away from his eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he continued. “It was joke, I swear. You shouldn’t take most of the things that come out of my mouth seriously.”

  I sighed, still not looking at him. I was never in the mood to deal with Jude.

  His hands came up to rest against the wall beside my head. If he thought I was oblivious to the movement, he was wrong. It put his body closer to mine and I had nowhere to escape. Well played, Brooks. Well fucking played.

  “You can think whatever you want of me, Tatum, but the fact of the matter is what I did had nothing to do with what happened to your brother. You’re acting like a child, trying to find someone to blame. I won’t be your scapegoat,” he lowered his voice and leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. I shivered from the contact. “Stop fighting what you feel for me.”

  “I’m not fighting anything,” I panted.

  He pulled away slightly, tilting his head so that strands of his hair tickled my forehead. “That’s all you do, Tate. You fight everything.” He straightened and lowered his arms to his side. “Now, this is the last time I’m going to extend my help with your paper. Think of it as a three strikes and you’re out kinda deal,” he winked. There was nothing playful in his gaze though. He was dead serious. If I told him to leave me alone, he would, and then I’d be screwed. I didn’t have the time to think up a whole new paper and go that route, so I was stuck.

  “I accept your help,” I mumbled, barely audible. I stared down at the scuffed ends of my Nike sneakers.

  “What was that?” He turned an ear towards me. “I didn’t quite hear you. Speak up.”

  “I accept your help.” I said it louder this time, squaring my shoulders and holding my head high.

  “Good,” he smiled, rocking back on his heels. He started to walk away, but turned back around to where I still stood against the wall. “Oh, and Tate?”

  I nodded for him to continue.

  “Try smiling sometime.”

  “Huh?
” That was not what I had expected to come out of his mouth.

  “You’re always beautiful, but you light up when you smile. I’d like to see you do it more often.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t piss me off then,” I countered, unable to hold back the words.

  He chuckled, scratching his jaw. His smile was crooked when he said, “See you later, Tater Tot.”

  

  When I climbed into bed that night I felt so confused.

  For the last seven years I’d blamed Jude for Graham’s death. I’d built this hatred up inside me. Now, between what he and Rowan said I felt lost, like maybe it really wasn’t his fault.

  But if I didn’t hate Jude, what was I supposed to do with all this anger inside of me?

  Chapter Six

  Even though it was chilly, I sat outside on one of the many benches that dotted the campus grounds eating a banana. I didn’t want to get caught out with Jude while I was hungry again. I might hurl another McFlurry at his head and that would be a real shame.

  “You know,” the voice sounded right beside me, “I could make a really dirty joke right now about you and that banana, but I’d like to live to see tomorrow so I’ll keep quiet.”

  I looked over at Jude, continuing to chew happily on my banana. I wouldn’t let him faze me. “Are you ready?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I think the better question is are you ready?”

  “I have to be,” I replied. I stood and slung my backpack over one shoulder as I followed Jude to his truck. If there was one thing I knew Jude loved, it was that truck. It was an older model Ford with a shiny blue paint job. No matter the weather, it always sparkled like it had just been washed. Maybe it had.

  He opened the truck door for me and I climbed inside.

  I didn’t thank him.

  Rowan had made me feel crazy for hating Jude. I thought for sure after she read the letter she’d be on my side, but she still defended him. Then after my talk with Jude I felt unsure about the whole thing. I still didn’t like him, I probably never would, but the overwhelming burn of hate was mysteriously gone from me. Well, maybe not gone, but redirected…at the people I probably should’ve been angry at from the beginning.

  “You look tired,” Jude commented, taking in the bruise like shadows under my eyes.

  Jude may have been a womanizer, but he also noticed more than most guys. I’d hoped I’d be able to hide them, but no such luck. Even Rowan had asked about them. I’d given her a mumbled answer that made no sense, but with Jude I found myself saying, “That’ll happen when you’re up all night thinking about the last seven years of your life.”

  “Tatum—”

  “No,” I cut him off. “I really don’t need to hear whatever it is you think you have to say. You didn’t lose your brother. You didn’t have to find that note. You don’t have to live with this constant pain.” My breath stuttered and I looked away, hoping to get a better grip on my emotions. “Please, leave it alone.”

  He sighed heavily, not at all pleased with my request. “For now,” he reluctantly agreed and I felt relieved to be let off the hook, even if it was only temporary.

  “Is our bet still on?” He asked, filling the silence that loomed like a stormy cloud in the truck.

  “Sure,” I shrugged. At least the bet would give me something to think about other than Graham and the fact that his suicide really wasn’t Jude’s fault and the people I should blame were the ones living in my house.

  “Why don’t you ask me a question first?” He suggested, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

  I leaned my head against the headrest, trying to think of a good question. So far our questions had been relatively useless and silly. I wanted to know something personal about him. So, I asked the question that had been bugging me the longest. “Why do you want to be a nurse?”

  He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. I wasn’t sure if he was mad about the question or what. His eyes flicked my way for a moment and then back to the road. “I should have known you’d ask me that one eventually.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “You don’t have to answer it if you really don’t want to,” I said softly. I knew what it was like to be asked something that you didn’t want to talk about and it sucked. I might not have liked Jude but I was really working on at least tolerating him.

  “You’re not the first person to ask me that question,” he whispered, squinting against the sun, “but you are the first one I’ve ever wanted to tell the truth.”

  His words caused my heart to stop momentarily. I didn’t know whether I was excited about knowing something about Jude that no one else knew or terrified. Probably terrified.

  He looked at the clock on the dashboard and said, “I’m never late, so if I call the nursing home they’ll understand, but there’s something I need to show you to make you understand why.”

  “Oookay,” I drew out the word. “You’re not kidnapping me, are you?”

  “No,” he laughed. “You’d only find a way to escape if I tried that.”

  “True,” I agreed.

  Jude pulled out his cellphone and called the nursing home. I was surprised by how easily they let him off the hook.

  “They love me,” he shrugged when I stared at him incredulously. “They gave me the whole evening off. I’ll just put in some extra time for a few days to make up for it.”

  “Man,” I shook my head, stifling a laugh, “you are quite the charmer.”

  He glanced at me with a wide smile, displaying his perfect white teeth. “Except my charms don’t work on this one girl that I really, really like. It kinda sucks.”

  “I’m sure you’re terribly sad,” I played along, looking out the window. “I bet you cry yourself to sleep every night.”

  “I do. I use my teddy bear to mop up my tears and I also suck on my thumb,” he rambled, not missing a beat.

  “Now that,” I couldn’t help laughing, “is something I’d love to see.”

  “You can come over anytime,” he grinned. “There’s plenty of room in my bed for an extra snuggle buddy. But you already knew that,” he winked, laughing under his breath.

  I had no comeback for that one and he knew it.

  We grew quiet as he turned off the highway and drove along. The town soon disappeared, replaced by the country and a dirt road. A wooden fence kept cattle from crossing into the road and trees were everywhere, blanketing the sky around us.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, unable to handle the suspense a moment longer.

  “To answer your question.”

  “I really hate show and tell,” I muttered under my breath. “You better not take me to a whorehouse or something.”

  He let out a belly laugh and smiled crookedly. “You’re funny.”

  “I was being serious,” I replied.

  “I know you were,” he grinned at me, “that’s why it was funny.”

  The dirt road narrowed into a driveway and I stared around in awe at all the animals. There were goats, cows, sheep, llamas, and the most beautiful horses I’d ever seen. “Wow,” I breathed, unable to keep myself from uttering the word.

  “I know, right,” Jude agreed. “It’s beautiful here. My favorite place in the world.” He whispered the last part.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I admitted, still in awe of the spectacular property.

  “You’ve never been on a farm?” He asked, his tone of voice incredulous. “Isn’t that like a prerequisite to live here?”

  “My parent’s are pretty citified,” I mumbled. “My mom would’ve complained that she was getting her shoes dirty and my dad wouldn’t have set foot at a place like this. Did you grow up here?” I realized immediately that maybe I shouldn’t have asked the question since our deal was one question a day, but I couldn’t help myself.

  He answered anyway, despite my slipup in our plan. “Yes and no.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, my nose crinkling in confusion.
/>
  He shrugged and I let it drop. I didn’t want him prying into my life, so I wouldn’t do the same to him.

  The trees pulled away, hanging in a way that they almost framed the two-story white house. A porch wrapped around the front and sides. I could tell the home was old, and in need of a lot of work, but no less beautiful. A large red barn sat behind the house, looking exactly like I’d imagined one to look. If I peered far enough, I could see at least two more barns on the property. In the distance there were rows upon rows of cleared land, ready for the planting season.

  Jude killed the engine on his truck and hopped out. I was left to follow.

  He bounced up the rickety steps to the front door.

  I was much slower, a bit afraid that the steps might cave in.

  He opened the door and waved me inside ahead of him.

  Like the exterior, the interior was obviously old and in need of repairs. Flowery pink wallpaper in the foyer peeled down and the wood floors needed to be sanded and re-stained. I still thought it was beautiful in a rustic, homey sort of way.

  “Pap?” He called out. “Where are you?”

  “Back here, boy!” Sounded a gruff voice from the back of the house.

  Jude nodded his head for me to follow him.

  We rounded the hallway into a kitchen and the first thing I noticed was that it was covered with dirty dishes. It was also covered with at least ten baskets of eggs. I had never seen so many eggs in my life. Not even at Easter brunch as a child when we had an Easter egg hunt with family.

  In the corner of the room, sitting at a small wood table, was an older man. His gray hair was thinning but there was a sparkle in his brown eyes—the same shade of brown as Jude’s. His face was heavily wrinkled, and he looked tired—like a man that had worked hard his whole life. Upon seeing us, he smiled and it lit up his face.

  It didn’t escape my noticed that despite the fact that it was the evening, the man was reading the newspaper, a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. A cup of coffee and orange juice sat at the side of the plate.