Running in Place (Mending Hearts) (27 page)

Plucking the strings on my guitar, I look over at Tatum as she sleeps peacefully next to me. Her hair splayed over the pillow she’s hugging, she’s lying on her stomach with her face turned in my direction, breathing long, deep breaths. I feel the corners of my mouth lift at the sight of her, only to have them turn back down just as quickly.

Today is the day I have to go see my father.

The visits are never pleasant, but this one will be by far the most excruciating of them all. Knowing the reason, that I’m sealing my fate — it will be like ripping my goddamn heart right out of my chest. I will be choosing a life without her.

I wasn’t lying when I told her she owned me. She does. But unfortunately, so does my father, and he doesn’t share. I know I’m going to have to pick one eventually because I can’t continue being ripped into two. It’s killing me.

Everything in my being wants to just withdraw from med school to be with Tatum and work on establishing myself as a lyricist. I snicker to myself with just the mere thought. What an excellent life plan that is. I’m sure she’d be stoked to be living in a cardboard box for the rest of our lives.

Plus going against my father? I can’t even comprehend it. I’ve had my ass beaten for forgetting to take out the trash. Not living the life he’s been priming me for since I was a child will not go over well, at all. I seriously doubt I’d even make it out of that conversation alive. It’s just easier for me to appease him. Then maybe he’ll get off my back after I have M.D. after my name. In eight years.

I glance back over at Tatum. Eight fucking years.

I could take her with me, but what good would that do? I’ll have absolutely no time for her. It wouldn’t be fair to her, especially when she’s made so much progress this summer learning
who
she is, to take her to live
my
life. She still needs to learn to cope with her pain, to heal. Taking her with me would only result in hindering her growth and I can’t do that to her. I’ve already been too selfish with her in that aspect. I know that. Spending every single day and night with her, that’s not what’s best for her, but I continue to do it because I can’t bear to waste one second of the remaining time I have with her not experiencing her.

I guess I’m just a greedy mother fucker when it comes to Tatum O’Connell.

That being said, the one line I haven’t crossed is sex. I’m selfish, but I’m not stupid. I’m already addicted to her. Sex would only lead to overdose, and if the overdose didn’t kill me, then my father would because there’d be no leaving her after that. Either way, I’d be a goner
for sure.

I know it.

My heart knows it.

My dick knows it. It just doesn’t like it.

Setting my guitar on the floor, I roll onto my side and lay my head on my pillow as I face her. Slowly, I slide the sheet down, exposing her bare back as I fold it and set it right above the waistline of my boxer shorts she’s wearing. My eyes rake over her body as I trace my fingertips gingerly from the tops of her shoulder blades clear down to the sheet. She stirs a little, triggering my eyes to fall to the outline of her breast against my bed. And because I’m such a selfish prick, I run my fingers just along the side of it while my dick strongly voices its usual protest.

Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I lean over and brush my lips lightly across her cheek until I come to her ear. “I’m about to head out, beautiful.”

Groggy, she raises her head from her pillow. “So early?”

I nod back at her, still running my fingers along her back. Releasing her hold on the pillow, she stretches her arms forward, barely touching her fingertips against my headboard. Sitting up, she turns away from me, sitting on the edge of the bed as she wraps the sheet around her body.

Twisting back around, she smiles as she says, “So, how long are we staying? I need to pack.”

My eyebrows raised at her assumption that she’s going anywhere near my father, I reply, “Um, no. You’re not going.”

She narrows her stare, glaring at me as her mouth tightens into a thin line. Standing up, she pulls the sheet with her, and I watch as my comforter tumbles off the bed while she forcefully grabs her jeans and my
Silverchair
shirt from the floor and marches straight into the bathroom. I try to keep my laughter in check when she tries to slam the door, only to have it get stuck on the sheet trailing her, but it’s a lost cause. After a couple of tries, she finally manages to get her exit right and the door shuts. Still laughing, I throw on my jeans and a plain white t-shirt as I hear her rummaging around the bathroom. Just as I sit on the bed to put my boots on, she throws open the door while shrugging her overnight bag onto her shoulder. “I assume we’re only staying one night since you weren’t real elated about going in the first place.”

Lacing up my boots, I shake my head. “Tate -”

“I’m going, Noah. End. Of. Story.”

Exhaling loudly, I dart my eyes up to hers. “Why? Why do want to go so badly? It’s not a fucking trip to Disneyworld. He’s an asshole, Tate. He’ll be one to me and most likely to you.”

Her blue eyes hold mine as she hoists her bag even higher on her shoulder, clearly demonstrating she’s not taking no for an answer. “Because you’ve saved my ass on several occasions this summer and now it’s my turn to save yours. I want to be there to make sure
you’re
safe, so I’m going,” she says, her jaw set with resolution as she just holds my stare.

My throat tightens as I take in her tiny frame with her big blue eyes full of determination, as she vows to protect me.
Me.
My mind reels, astounded by both her strength and her compassion.

I want nothing more right now than to pull her back into this bed with me. To wrap my arms around her, cover our entire bodies, and just block out the entire world. To keep us both safe.

Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen. Rising from the bed, I approach her where she stands, her eyes still on mine. Cupping my hand around the bottom of her chin, I tighten my gaze. “You can come under one condition.” Not until she nods do I continue. “No matter what he says to me, you have to keep that beautiful mouth of yours shut. Promise me.”

Concern flashes across her face, but soon after she raises her hand and curls her fingers into her palm, leaving the smallest one extended. “Pinky-promise.”

The left corner of my mouth jerks up as I hook her pinky with mine and pull her into me, my hand still holding her chin as I press my lips tenderly against hers. Her mouth breaks into a smile as she tightens her hold on my finger. “Let’s go, Romeo.”

Giving her another quick kiss, I release her and grab my bag off my desk. “Alright,” I let out with a deep breath as I survey the room. “Let’s go.”

Two hours later we arrive in Dallas, the drive not as jovial as our previous times in the Jeep. While I’m mentally preparing to see Satan, I think Tatum’s just plain nervous. Biting the back of her thumbnail as she gazes out the window, she pops her knuckles repeatedly on the hand lying in her lap. Reaching over, I take her hand and she breaks her stare, turning her head toward me while giving me a sweet smile. Peeling my eyes away from her, I turn back to the road and grin to myself as I think about how adamant she was about protecting me. There’s not a day that goes by when she doesn’t do something, or say something, that catches me completely off-guard. And each time she does, I find myself falling deeper in love with her.

Turning into suburbia, I continue the dreaded journey to my father’s house. Tatum’s eyes double in size when she takes in the size of the homes. I have a feeling this isn’t really helping with her nerves.

Squeezing her hand, I turn onto my street, seeing my father’s house at the very end, right in the center of the cult-de-sac. Of course.

With its lawn perfectly manicured, down to the blooms on the garden flowers, the three-story limestone home is complete with fountain and circle driveway right in front. Extremely excessive and gaudy. Both the fountain and the house.

As we pull into the drive, I throw the Jeep into park and remove the keys from the ignition. Twisting toward Tatum, I give her my most confident smile. “Ready?”

Letting go of my hand, she reaches up and lifts my aviators away from my eyes, peering at me from between her lashes, seeing right through my deceptive grin. “Are
you
ready?”

 I drop the smile, and I let out a breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

After setting the glasses back down on the bridge of my nose, she turns and opens her door, placing one foot on the cement of the driveway before looking back in my direction.

“Think your dad would be pissed if I threw some change in his fountain?” She glances over my shoulder at the monstrosity. “I feel like I should make a wish or something.”

Throwing my head back, I laugh, her remark completely taking me by surprise, my heart practically exploding as I fall even deeper in love with her.

But as my eyes fall to my father’s front door, my smile fades with the reminder of the purpose of this visit. Rubbing my hand on my head, I force the grief now choking me back down into the pit of my stomach and open my door.

I climb out of the Jeep and meet Tatum at the front of the hood. She’s still smiling from her little joke as she nudges my shoulder before stepping toward the house. Falling into step behind her, I reach forward and take hold of her hand, intertwining our fingers as we make our way to the porch. Glancing down at our hands, she looks back up at me, her eyes a mixture of surprise and happiness as she giggles. “Are you trying to give him a heart attack?”

Chuckling under my breath, I tighten my grip. “No. I just want to hold your hand.”

Her smile remains as she once again faces forward. Coming up on the front door, I breathe in deeply through my nose, following it with an extra-long exhale. Our hands still joined, I lift them together, using my finger to press the doorbell. After a long session of dings and dongs, the door finally opens.

And there he is.

Towering over us, my father is clad in one of his usual designer suits, some hideous paisley patterned tie, and his fucking ridiculously expensive loafers. I’m just over six-foot, but he makes me look like an adolescent in comparison. His brown eyes narrowing in my direction, he transfers his gaze to Tatum before his face transforms into an obvious grimace, his glare aimed directly at our hands. Tatum’s grip on my hand tightens, uncertainty rolling off of her body as she stands next to me.

I squeeze it back gently, trying to comfort her as I give my father his usual greeting. “Sir.”

His eyes travel back up to mine. As soon as they meet, he clears his face of emotion, which is typical. It means he’s saving it all for me later this evening. Wonderful.

“Well, boy,” he scoffs. “Not only are you an hour late, but you didn’t even have the decency to notify me that we were having company. Anything else you’d like to screw up this morning?”

My eyes hit the ground just as Tatum gasps, directing my father’s attention to her. “I’m sorry. My son also seems to have horrible manners. I’m Adam Reese, Noah’s father. And you are…” he trails off with his brows raised.

“Tatum. Tatum O’Connell. It’s nice to meet you.”

Lifting my gaze, I watch him while he evaluates her, the sight of his blatant judgment and assumption rousing my beast. One fist already clenched, the other hand stiffens its hold around Tatum’s while my jaw tightens and my teeth grind together — the response to the fury as it circulates, branching to every part of my body.

Glancing over at her, I watch the side of her mouth as it tips up before she speaks again to my father.

“That sure is a nice fountain you’ve got there, sir.”

Surprised, I unsuccessfully try to maintain a straight face while my beast roars with laughter, his anger subsiding immediately.

Great.

It’s official.

I think my heart just exploded.