Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia #4) (5 page)

“Tate, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was deceptively calm. I could see the storm brewing in his eyes. He was pissed, but he was trying not to show it. If I wasn’t mistaken there was some fear too. He should be afraid.

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you did,” I spat.

“I really don’t.”

I wanted to punch him in the face. Maybe it would knock some sense into him, but probably not.

The fight was leaving my body and I turned to leave once more.

I wanted to forget about Jude, this stupid project, and definitely how nice it had been to be snuggled in his arms.

At sixteen years old I had vowed to hate Jude Brooks for the rest of my life for the damage he’d caused
. I was not about to break that promise.

Chapter
Five

After I walked away from Jude, Rowan was kind enough to pick me up and drive me bac
k to school to get my car. Then she insisted on following me home and she hadn’t left yet. She sat beside me at the bar that extended from the island in the kitchen. I had a bowl of vanilla ice cream with three Twizzlers in it. After all, I hadn’t really gotten to eat my McFlurry. I propped my head up with one hand and slowly ate the ice cream with the other. Normally, ice cream always made me feel better. Not now though.

“You have to tell me what happened,” Rowan pleaded, looking at me with wide hazel eyes.

“No.”

“It’s in the code of Best Friends,” she continued. “So, you have to tell me.”

“Then don’t be my best friend, I really don’t care.”

“Tatum.” The way she said my name was the tone of a mother scolding her child.

“Rowan.”

Her lips pursed and we ended up in a staring contes
t. She caved first and I ate a Twizzler to celebrate my small victory.

“I just want to understand why you hate him so much. I think I deserve an explanation. I’ve been dealing with you two for over a year now. And I don’t care what you say, but there’s definitely chemistry between you guys. Oh my God,” she gasped, “is that why you hate him? Did he screw you over in high school or something?”

“Absolutely not.” I was appalled that she’d suggest such a thing. “I have never, and will never, be one of his play things.”

“Then explain it to me.” She eyed me, waiting for me to cave.

She reached for the spoon that lay in my bowl of ice cream but I swatted her hand away. “Get your own.”

“Fine, I will.”

Rowan made her own bowl of ice cream and sat beside me once more. I was lucky that when we got here my mom was nowhere to be seen. Usually, when I got home and she wasn’t downstairs it meant she was in Graham’s room. I always knew not to bother her when she was in there.

In all the time that I’d been friends with Rowan this was the first time she’d ever set foot in my house. I’d never wanted to explain my family to her and she didn’t know about Graham. She was the only normal thing I had in my life.

“I’m not leaving here until you give me some answers, Tate,” she eyed me and her look was determined. Rowan was a woman of her word, so I knew I better spit it out or she’d be sleeping on the floor of my bedroom.

I started from the beginning, telling her about Graham and his girlfriend and how Jude slept with her. I told her about Graham’s supposed accident, and how I found a suicide note in his bedroom and knew it was no accident at all.

“Jude mentioned that to me a long time ago,” she whispered, “he said you kicked him in the balls for sleeping with your brother’s girlfriend.”

“I did,” I
confirmed. “I wanted to do a lot more than that, actually,” I muttered, looking away. “Graham wasn’t even dead yet then. That happened a week later.”

“I still don’t see how Graham killing himself has anything to do with Jude.”

“It has
everything
to do with Jude,” I glared at her. “Wait here.”

When I was sure she wasn’t going to follow me, I jogged upstairs and opened the drawer in the table beside
my bed. I pulled out the folded piece of paper. It was yellow now and ripped in places from the many times I’d held it.

When I passed Graham’s room on my way down, sure enough my mom was in there. She sat on the edge of his bed, clutching his pillow. I hated hearing her cry. She’d cried every day at least once since the police showed up at our house. You’d think by now she would’ve run out of tears. But as long as you have something to cry about, they never dry up.

Back in the kitchen I handed Rowan the note.

I’d read it so many times I had it memorized.

Hi Tatie. I know you’ll be the one to find this. I don’t have any words right now other than I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother and son. I’m sorry I couldn’t be perfect. Now, Tatie, stop looking like that—I’m sure right about now you have your face screwed up in disbelief. But you know better than anyone else that I’m not perfect. I try so hard to be, but it’s an impossible mission and I’m sick of trying.

What happened with Kaitlin broke my heart. I loved her, but apparently not enough. What she
did showed me that life is a bunch of bullshit and I don’t want to deal with this anymore.

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 ans
wers 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.

“Some
thing 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 d
o 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.