Unforgettable
Page 11
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 continues 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.
Everything is wrong!
I get into my car and start up my car. I take a deep breath as I get a sharp pain in my stomach. I had got so caught up in everything else I forgot that I was about to start my period. I cry to myself as I reach over and start to dig through my purse for some Midol.
“OW!” I cry out once again. Placing my hands on the steering wheel, I take a few deep breaths. I have to get home. I just need to get home. I’ll dig for them once I get home.
I speed to my apartment as I cry. Why do I hurt so badly? My stomach hasn’t hurt this bad since back when Braxton took me to the hospital.
No! I tell myself. That can’t be the problem. Not again! That’s not possible…
CHAPTER SIX
TATE
What the fuck?
I hear the front door slam and her car start up. I grab my cell phone off of the nightstand and throw it across my room. It hits the opposite wall and the screen shatters.
“What the hell are you doing?” Parker questions, barging into my room still dressed in his uniform from working the night shift.
“Stay out of it, Parker,” I snap, turning to face him.
He places his hands in his hair and lets out a deep breath, confusion and frustration covers his face. “When are you going to learn, man? That girl loves you.”
She might have loved me. She might have even been able to save me. But not now! She made me feel things that I shouldn’t have felt. She made me believe that maybe I was only a kid. That it wasn’t my job to save my mother. Then why did I feel like a worthless pussy when I listened to her scream? And a terrified coward when he came looking for me?
“You’re such a fucking whore,” he shouts. “You think I didn’t know you were fucking him?” She cries out before he speaks again. “Where is that bastard child anyway?”
“No. Please. Leave him alone,” she begs, and my heart pounds in my chest. He’s coming for me. To make me pay for what Mommy did.
Trust me when I say, I hate my mother! I want nothing to do with her and she knows it. She shouldn’t have put us through that in the first place. All she needed to do was call for help and he would have been put away. I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to let Marie know, but my mother said that they would take me away from her. And as long as we had each other we would be okay. I was terrified to go home and I was terrified to leave it. There was no escaping, only hiding.
Stupid lying bitch.
Missy makes me truly believe that. But nothing is that simple. My mother loved that bastard and she would have never had him put away.
That was a lie that I was telling myself. Missy would have ran anyways if she would have found out the truth. If I would have told her that I almost killed the sorry bastard. I wore his blood on my hands for hours. The blood made me feel better. Made me feel stronger. And after I washed it off, I could still smell it for days. It fed that inner demon in me. The one that finally proved I wasn’t a pussy. I went from being a coward to a man who had no limits—except for when I slept. He always visited my nightmares, reminding me that I had failed myself.
“Tate. You need to go after her.” Parker speaks, bringing me back from my memories and thoughts.
I turn to face him. “Drop it, Parker. I don’t need to do anything.”
He walks right up to me with his chest bowed out and a hard look in his brown eyes. “I never pegged you to be a coward. What? Afraid she’ll see right through you and leave you?” he smirks.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, fisting my hands by my side. I’m about to take my anger out on him.
“You were right to leave her alone in the first place.” He lowers his voice before he speaks. “My brother is much better for her than you.”
The part that hurts is that his words are true, and we both know that. I lift my arm and punch him in his jaw. The force pushes him back into the wall. And I don’t apologize for it. He knew it was coming.
He charges me and before I can get out of the way, he bends down and throws his elbow into my stomach, knocking the breath out of me and lifts me up off the floor. We slam into my nightstand. Things fall to the ground and glass breaks.
I hear the doorbell ring, but we ignore it as we beat the hell out of each other in the middle of my bedroom.
I land a punch to his stomach and he bends over as he grunts. I take the moment to lift my knee making contact with his chest. He falls to the ground, panting and moaning.
“Come on, Parker,” I taunt from up above him, taking the second to catch my breath. “I didn’t peg you for the quitting type,” I say with a smirk. The actual fight has helped my mood. I always feel better after I beat the shit out of something.
He stands up slowly and gives me a smirk in return. “You really need to start taking anger management classes.”
I snort. “Why, when I have you to beat on?”
“Seriously, man.” He takes in a deep breath. “You do understand that the one woman in this world who actually wants to be with you—even all your fucked-up-ness—just ran out of this house crying.”
I drop my hands down to my side and sigh heavily. I feel the weight of her sorrow on my shoulders. I put it there. But what am I supposed to do about it? “Running away was the smartest thing she has ever done,” I say, and he shakes his head as he walks out of my bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
Just as I sit down on my bed my door swings open again. “What now, Parker?” I ask ready to take him once again.
“What the fuck were you two doing in here?”
I look up to see Slade standing there as his eyes look over the scene of my bedroom. “We were letting off some steam,” I say.
“Parker told me that you guys got in a fight over Missy. What happened?” he asks stepping in.
Of course the fucker did. Do they really think that I’ll cave to her if they all gang up on me?
“Unless you want me to kick your ass, too, I would stay out of it,” I snap.
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.
MISSY
I have been lying in my bed curled up on my side for three days. My stomach still hurts. I’ve taken Advil, Tylenol, Midol—nothing is really helping, though. It’s like the worse possible cramps I have ever had.
I’ve had a few calls from Sam and then my mother has called as well. Braxton has called multiple times, too. But I have ignored them. I’m afraid I won’t be able to hide my discomfort.
I hear a knock at the door followed by my mother’s voice entering my apartment. I instantly regret giving her a key when I met her for my birthday lunch.
“Missy?” she calls, entering my darkened room.
“Yes?” I whisper, not moving from my ball.
She sits down beside me and pushes my hair away from my face. “Sweetie. What’s wrong? I’ve been trying to call you. Are you alright?” she asks with concern.
I feel my chest tighten and the tears threaten my eyes. I’m so tired of keeping these secrets. I tried to get Tate to tell me his problems so I could help him. That’s all my mother is trying to do.
“Mom,” I say as a knot catches in my throat.
She leans down and wraps her arms around me. “Tell me, Missy. It’s okay,” she says as I hear her sniff as well.
“I’ve done something horrible,” I whisper. “You’ll never forgive me.” I shake my head as the tears stream down my face.
She pulls away and wipes the wetness from my face as she gives me a soft smile. “I already have, honey. Whatever it is. I will help you through it. I promise you.”
I hold back the sob and nod my head. Here goes my heart. Here goes my soul. Here goes all I have left of myself.
“Remember when I went to Vegas?” I ask, and she nods. I take in a deep breath. “I slept with Tate,” I admit softly. I expect her eyes to widen behind her red-rimmed glasses or for her mouth to drop open, gasping in horror. But that’s not the reaction I get. She must have known Tate and I would take that step eventually. She always knew that I liked him.
“Is that it?” she questions as she pushes some loose strands of hair behind my ear.
I shake my head and tell her the one thing that I’ve only told one other person. “I got pregnant,” I admit and this time I get the reaction I was expecting.
“You had a baby?” she asks in total shock.
That’s what she would think. I did disappear for months. I could have had a baby and she would have never known. I know that would sound unbelievable to some, but I became a recluse. The events that happened after Vegas put me into a deep depression, and when I finally found my way out of it, I just kept everything to myself. I didn’t know how to explain the pain I felt. The loss of something that was never truly mine.
My throat tightens to the point where I almost can’t breathe. And my eyes water to the point to where she is nothing but a blurry vision in front of me.
I shake my head as I take a shaky breath. “No, Mom, I didn’t have a baby. I lost it,” I admit with shame, as I drop my eyes down to the comforter. I blink and tears spill out of my eyes and onto my comforter. I try swallowing the fear of what I just admitted to her. The fact that I kept something this big from her for so long.
I feel her arms wrap around me again. “I’m so sorry, Missy.” Her voice cracks and I let it all out. I lay my shattered heart out to my mother, and she holds me as if I was a small child once again, remembering the day that shook my world.
“Wanna go out tonight?” Braxton asks as I sit on the end
of his bed. I’m so nervous, I’ve had stomach pains all day. I mean, we’re dating, but it’s only been for a couple of weeks. What will he expect from me? I’ve never dated anyone before.
“That sounds great,” I say pressing a hand to my stomach. I think I will feel more comfortable out at the movies or dinner than here at his house with just the two of us.
“Okay,” he says excitedly before he comes out of his bathroom and looks at me. “Are you okay?” he asks as his face falls.
I take in a deep breath as the pain grows in my stomach.
I nod. “Yeah,” I say before I stand. As soon as I stand, I bend over grabbing my stomach and let out a soft cry.
“Whoa. What is it?” he asks worried. He grabs me and helps me to sit back on his bed.
“My stomach,” I say as tears fill my eyes. It’s getting worse by the second.
He kneels down at the end of the bed. “What’s wrong with it?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. It feels like cramps. I guess it could be that time again.
“I’m going to take you to the hospital. Maybe you have food poison” I don’t argue with him. I just want it to go away.
We wait for what feels like forever and then they do some tests and we wait some more. When the doctor finally comes in, the pain has lessened, and I’m ready to leave this hospital.
He sits down on a rolling chair and comes closer to me. “Your results have come back and you’re pregnant.”
Braxton and I sit unmoving as he says the last thing I expected. Pregnant? I’m pregnant, and it belongs to Tate.
I want to scream at myself for being so stupid. I want to hate Tate for walking away from me after that morning. But I can’t. It’s my fault. I wasn’t on birth control. I wasn’t sexually active. But he didn’t use a condom. I hadn’t even worried about getting pregnant from that one time. My first time!