Chapter 15 #3
Some people have all the luck.
“Thanks, Mom,” he says before turning his attention back to me. “Even after thirty-six years of doing it almost every single night.”
“Nobody likes a smart-ass, son,” Calvin growls, but there’s no heat behind it. “I can’t help that my family still needs me so much.”
“Sure, honey.” Pam wraps her arm around his thick waist. “You keep telling yourself that.”
I take a sip of my wine as the energy in the room begins to mellow. I realize belatedly that not only is the wine delicious, but that after an afternoon of gulping water to stay hydrated, I really have to pee.
“Excuse me.” I hate to pull the attention back to me, but now that my bladder has made itself known, it can’t be ignored. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Pam points to my right. “Straight down that hallway,” she says. “The third door on the left.”
I smile gratefully and place my glass on top of a coaster. “Thank you.”
Their voices meld together with the sound of their laughter behind me as I follow her directions down the long, picture-lined hallway.
I might’ve thought a house this large was too big to feel like a home, but I would’ve been wrong.
Personal touches linger in every nook and cranny of the massive house.
Framed children’s artwork hangs on the walls between family portraits and casual snapshots, but one picture in particular stops me in my tracks.
There are huge bundles of orange and white balloons sitting on both sides of the family as they all huddle behind a table decked out with so much University of Texas paraphernalia, it looks like they robbed the school store.
Pam is standing behind Tate, looking exactly as she did tonight, only she’s sporting long layers and side bangs instead of the adorable bob she’s rocking now, with Calvin standing tall at her side.
A much smaller Ciara smiles huge at the camera with her braces gleaming.
She’s leaned into Tate’s side, and his arm—not yet muscular, but still strong—is draped over her shoulders, holding her near.
Silas stands to his right with one hand on Tate’s shoulder and looks down at his twin with a look that can only be described as elation.
Actually, other than his dad, who’s wearing a cowboy hat instead of the UT baseball hat everyone else is wearing and whose smile looks like it pains him, the entire family shares matching expressions of joy with looks of pure, unbridled pride sprinkled in.
Everything about this picture is delightful, and as much as I try, I can’t pull my eyes away from Tate.
The version of him captured in this picture is a stranger, but it’s not his long, lanky build or his lack of locs that makes him unrecognizable.
No. Not it at all.
It’s that I didn’t know he could look so happy and carefree, and the Tate in this picture radiates so much joy, it practically oozes out of his pores.
The heaviness clinging to him now is nowhere to be seen.
His eyes crease from smiling, not weariness, and the guards so firmly in place nowadays haven’t even begun to form.
He has a smile that lights up the room, and I didn’t have to be there to know that it rubbed off on anyone who was lucky enough to go near him.
What the hell happened?
Seeing him like this causes my heart to clench and break at the same damn time. What I wouldn’t give to see him like this again. How I wish I was whole enough to have the energy to try and fix him.
If the past has taught me anything, though, it’s that no matter how hard I try, I can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. I can’t want better for someone than they want for themselves.
But, god, do I wish I could.
A loud knock at the front door spurs me back into motion, and I find the guest bathroom with no other detours.
I hurry up and take care of business, only stopping to snap a picture of the soap so I can order some for myself when I get home.
By the time I rejoin the group in the living room, someone new has arrived.
Two someones, actually.
I hear the telltale sound of Duke’s nails running across the room before I see them.
I turn the corner to see Tate, who unfortunately looks better than ever in a collared shirt and dark-wash jeans, and he’s standing next to a woman I’ve never seen before.
She’s as gorgeous as I’d expect the person Tate brings home to his family would be.
Long hair hangs down her back in thick, shiny waves with not a strand out of place.
She’s got at least six inches on me, and where I’m built more like a power forward, she gives off Victoria’s Secret model energy… and body.
I guess he wasn’t lying when he said he had other things to do. Seeing her beside him, the reasons he hasn’t come back suddenly make a lot more sense.
“Oh, Tate. Hi.” I run a hand over my messy hair, suddenly hyperaware of my makeup-less face and the smell of horses still lingering across my well-worn jeans and sweat-coated skin. “How are you?”
Instead of answering, his angry glare cuts from me over to Silas. “Really?” he asks, his displeasure at seeing me coming through loud and clear in that single word.
“Jesus, Tate.” Silas raises a single eyebrow and meets him with a glare of his own. “I know this is how you treat everyone at this point, but have you ever tried not being a dick for just once?”
“Boys,” Pam chides, but sadness comes through over the anger I think she intended. “Can we please not do this tonight? Not when we have guests.”
Ciara’s sympathetic eyes meet mine across the room, and it’s too much for me to handle. I don’t know what I was thinking, feeling as if I could fit in with a family like this. Pretending that I could belong.
“Actually,” I say, trying not to fidget when all six sets of eyes turn to me, “I forgot that I have a packed day tomorrow. I should probably head home so I can prepare for the morning and be in bed early. I’m useless if I don’t get a full night’s sleep.”
I’m a terrible liar and I crumble when faced with the barest hint of confrontation. I completely forget that Tate knows about my sleep trouble until I see his face mar with confusion.
“Anything I can help you with?” Silas asks.
So sweet. He’s always so sweet. Why can’t I feel for him the way I feel for Tate?
“Thank you for asking, but I’ll be okay,” I say.
Tate opens his mouth but snaps it shut when I beg with silent pleas for him to keep quiet. And considering he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not happy to see me here, I don’t know why he even cares. He should be thanking me.
Maybe I can get him to give me a discount on the bathroom if he ever comes back to finish it.
“Are you sure you have to leave now?” Pam asks, her Southern drawl more pronounced now than it’s been all night. “I made dinner and you must be hungry.”
I’m starving, and since I was out side all day, I didn’t take anything out for dinner.
“You’re so kind to offer, but I really should get home.” My traitorous stomach growls, but luckily, nobody is close enough to hear. “Maybe we can plan for another night? I’ll bring dessert.”
Pam’s smile softens and my throat tightens again. “I’d love that.”
“Can I give you a ride back?” Calvin asks, and it’s not until he speaks that I notice he’s emitting the exact same vibes as Tate.
Yikes on a bike.
I’d rather take my chances with whatever predators lurk nearby.
“Thank you, but I’ll be okay,” I say. “It’s nice to get some steps in without the sun beaming down on me.”
“But—” Silas starts, but I shake my head and cut him off. I can’t stand here and argue with their kindness all night.
“You’ve already done more than enough for me today,” I say. “Enjoy your time with your family.”
I can tell he wants to argue, but because he’s Silas, he’s too nice to do it.
“It was so wonderful meeting you all.” I start walking backward, like prey trying to make its escape. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
I pull open the heavy front door and everyone, minus Calvin and Tate, says their polite goodbyes before it slams shut behind me.
I search for the outside lights on my little farmhouse glowing bright in the night, and the moment I spot them, I take off running.
And as I cut through the long grass and climb over my fence, only two thoughts cross my mind: When will I see Tate again, and who in the hell was the woman with him?