Chapter 3 #2
Tate didn’t move for several long seconds and I didn’t rush him because I knew he needed to get control of himself; never an easy task when you were scared shitless about where the next blow would hit you.
It was several long seconds before Tate finally looked over his shoulder at me and I could see the remnants of sleep still held him because he blinked his eyes rapidly as if trying to bring me into focus.
Then he checked to make sure Matty was okay before finally looking around at our surroundings.
“What…what are we doing here?” he asked as he began the process of unbuckling Matty. As he climbed out of the car, Matty in his arms, he said, “We…we don’t live here anymore.”
“I know,” was all I said as I went to the trunk of the car. I kept my eyes on Tate as I pulled both his duffle bag and mine from it. His eyes fell on his bag as I came back around the car.
“You were in our motel room?” he managed to get out .
“That place was a shit hole,” I said as I once again put my hand on Tate’s arm to get him moving. “Makes this place look like the fucking Ritz,” I added as we walked up the walkway towards the apartment building.
Tate didn’t say anything even once we were inside his apartment.
He just carried Matty to the little boy’s room and then shut the door.
I didn’t follow him because I knew there was no place for him to go in the windowless room.
I used the time to search out the contents of Tate’s kitchen and shook my head at the nearly bare cabinets.
The fridge had a few items in it, but since I knew Tate had likely left the apartment within minutes of my leaving the week before, I didn’t trust that the food was any good.
I searched out my phone to find the closest pizza delivery place and ordered some food.
I gave Tate a few more minutes and then went to Matty’s room to find him.
The door wasn’t locked so I quietly pushed it open.
The first thing I heard was crying - no, not crying – sobbing.
Big, heart wrenching, bone deep sobs…the kind that made it hard to breathe.
I didn’t see Tate as I pushed the door further open, but I saw that Matty was asleep under the covers.
I had to open the door all the way to find Tate.
He was sitting on the floor near his son’s bed, his back against the wall.
His legs were drawn up and he was resting his elbows on his knees as he wept into his hands.
I hated that I wanted to go to him, to sit down next to him and pull him against me and tell him it would be okay…
whatever it was. At that exact moment, Tate looked up at me and even in the dim light I saw it.
His naked need for me to do exactly that.
But then his eyes shuttered and he leaned his head back against the wall and turned his face away from me.
My chest felt tight as I closed the door and I actually found myself rubbing my fingers over the middle of it as if that would somehow stem the discomfort.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there for, but it wasn’t until I heard a sharp rap on the front door that I remembered where I was and why I was there.
As I went to the door, I kept glancing over my shoulder as if half expecting Tate to come running out of the room seeking help from whoever was at the door.
I had already pulled my gun from the back of my pants when I remembered the pizza I’d ordered.
After giving the pimply faced delivery guy a generous tip, I took the pizza into the kitchen and put it on the small table.
But my appetite was gone and when I didn’t hear Matty’s door open, I pushed the pizza away and leaned back in the kitchen chair and studied my surroundings.
Everything about this job was going to shit.
I was no closer to finding the men who’d killed my wife despite having more information than I ever had before - information that should have been enough to lead me to them and take them out.
Yet all I had was a guy who was clearly struggling to be a good father to a kid that wasn’t his.
And the kid - a fucking cute little kid who was sick…
very sick if the look on Tate’s face at the hospital had been anything to go by.
And none of it mattered.
Because I was still left with one undisputable fact – Tate Travers was my only hope of getting justice for the woman who’d changed my entire life…
who’d been my entire life. I steeled myself not to care as I started making plans for how I would get out of Tate what I wanted.
Because after all this was over, the young man would still have the kid he’d chosen to raise as his own and I would have nothing.
Nothing except knowing I’d finally kept my promise.
It was almost an hour before I heard footsteps heading towards the kitchen. I was still sitting in the same chair, but as Tate entered the kitchen, I looked up and held his gaze as he stood in the wide doorway.
“How did you find us?” he finally asked.
“Tracking device in Matty’s backpack,” I said. “I put a bug in there too.”
“You were listening to us?”
I nodded. I’d tracked Tate to the hospital, but I hadn’t planned to go in until I’d heard Tate talking to the woman about his account. The desperation in his voice as he’d talked about his kid needing the tests…
“You knew I’d run,” Tate murmured.
“You knew I’d be back,” I countered. I nodded to the chair across from me. Tate shifted nervously before finally sitting down.
“You only find Buck when he wants to be found,” Tate responded quietly.
Although his tears had dried up, his eyes were swollen and red.
He looked like hell so I got up and grabbed a few slices of pizza from the box on the stove and tossed them into the microwave.
I searched out a cup and filled it with tap water and placed it in front of him.
He didn’t respond, but he did reach for the cup to take several long drinks.
But when I slid the pizza in front of him, he didn’t touch it.
“When was the last time you ate?” I asked as I sat back down across from him. Tate merely shook his head. “Eat, Tate,” I said. “There will be plenty left for Matty.”
Tate’s eyes lifted to meet mine but he didn’t answer.
He looked over his shoulder at the large pizza box sitting on the stove.
I hadn’t missed the fact that most of the spoiled food in the fridge was geared towards a child’s taste.
It explained a lot about the man across from me…
his lean frame, his lack of funds, Matty’s nicely decorated room.
A strange sense of satisfaction went through me when Tate finally took a bite of the pizza, but I tried not to examine too closely why it mattered so much that he’d done as I’d asked.
And I definitely tried not to focus on his intriguing, mismatched eyes.
Sharp, bright blue and warm, soft hazel…
I couldn’t help but think they matched the two sides of his personality I’d seen so far.
I wondered what they would look like when he smiled, laughed, felt pleasure…
Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me?
I forced myself to remain silent until Tate finished the food and pushed the plate away. He took a couple more drinks of water and then sat stiffly in his chair, his eyes settling on me. His gaze briefly skimmed my entire body and a shot of lust flashed through me.
Jesus Christ, there was no way this was happening to me.
There was no fucking way I was attracted to this man…
any man. It just wa sn’t possible. Only my dick was telling me it definitely was possible and I had to lean forward so I could use the table to hide my unexpected reaction to Tate’s perusal.
It had to be the fucking stress, the anticipation of what was to come.
“What’s wrong with Matty?” I asked.
My question had a profound reaction. The pain shooting through Tate was clear and tears instantly pooled in his eyes as he hunched in on himself.
He angrily wiped at his face with his shirt sleeve – he had taken his jacket off at some point – and sucked in several deep breaths as he covered his eyes with his hand.
“Leukemia,” he whispered so low that I barely heard him.
A chill went through my entire body and I couldn’t help but cover my mouth with my hand as I tried to stem the lump of emotion that threatened to close off my throat. I’d expected some kind of serious condition but nothing like that.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I sat back in my chair. “Is it…is it treatable?” I heard myself ask, my voice sounding shaky.
Tate nodded. “The doctor said we caught it early. He needs multiple chemo treatments over the next six months. They did a bone marrow test today to see if he’ll need a stem cell transplant…that’s assuming they would be able to find a match.”
“What about you?” I managed to ask.
“They’ll test me if he needs one, but usually a full sibling has the best chance of being a match.”
“And you’re only his half-brother,” I said quietly.
Tate lifted his eyes to meet mine. “He’s Buck’s?” he asked in a rush.
“You didn’t know?” I asked. “The DNA test-”
Tate shook his head. “I asked the lab to confirm he was related to me, but I couldn’t afford the tests that would have shown if he was my brother or my nephew.”
“You didn’t know if he was related to you?”
“No,” he murmured as he wiped at his face and reached for the glass of water with a trembling hand.
“I…I came home one day and he was just there. I asked Denny whose kid he was, but Denny told me to mind my own business. After I took him, I started to wo nder if maybe they’d kidnapped him or something…
I kept thinking about how worried his parents would be. ” Tate took a long drink.
“Why did you take him?” I asked.
But Tate just shook his head slightly and dropped his eyes. I got the message.
“Buck and Denny, they…they liked to share women so I knew it was possible that either one of them could be the father.”
My gut clenched at Tate’s words as an image of Revay’s battered body went through my head. The hospital staff had only found one usable DNA sample when they’d done the rape kit, but I had no doubt she’d been brutalized by both men. Tate’s statement was confirmation of that fact.
“So you don’t know who his mother is?” I managed to ask.
“No, Buck had a lot of girlfriends…so did Denny.”
“How old would Denny have been when Matty was born?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Tate admitted. “I don’t know Matty’s exact age...if he really is five, Denny would have been around twenty-five when Matty was born.”
“Was there a specific girl in his life at that time? Or Buck’s?” I asked, making sure not to refer to the man as Tate’s father.
Another shake of Tate’s head. “No,” was all he said. His lack of a response told me there was more to it than just that, but I didn’t press him. In reality, it didn’t matter.
“Look, if I knew more, I’d tell you,” Tate said as he finally lifted his eyes. “Just…just leave us alone, please? I can’t help you.”
I steeled myself to ignore the pleading in his voice as well as the pity I felt for him for Matty’s condition. It changed nothing. I held Tate’s gaze as I said, “Yeah, you can. And you will.”