Chapter 14 - Tessa #2
He looks kind of broken. I try to sit up to reach my hand towards him.
But the pain that shoots through me stops me immediately.
I whimper and stiffen, trying to stop the shooting pain.
Nate runs his hands through his hair, inching slightly closer, so his thigh is touching my leg. "Fuck even now I am causing you pain."
I do my best to nudge him without causing myself to react. "Nate, stop. Listen, I know today was a lot, it was fucking scary, and it shouldn't have happened. But shit happens, and I am going to be ok."
He looks away for a minute and then asks, "Are you cold? Can I get you anything?"
This man doesn't know what is up or down at the moment, and I'm not sure exactly what to do with him.
We sit there in silence for a bit longer.
The breeze across my hot skin, the insects singing their song, you would think it would be awkward, but somehow, having him here with me feels nice. Normal even.
"Thank you for coming by. I am sure you have a houseful of guests who are waiting for you."
Nate studies the space for a while longer. Then says almost wistfully, "I think I remember being here when I was younger."
The change in topic is surprising, but maybe that is what he needs. Everyone handles fear and stress differently. So, I go along, "Your mom mentioned she has old albums she wants to find from when we were all younger. A group of us kids who used to play together. But I don't remember any of it."
Nate seems to relax a little, so I continue, "I left here with my mom when I was young, they divorced when I was six, and then everything was strained after that. Mom barely let me have contact with my dad and..."
I struggle to continue, still working through my feelings of what my mom told me all those years ago and what I have learned since coming back here. Nate must sense it because he places one of his large hands on my leg and squeezes.
I don't know why I feel like I need to or want to tell him this, but maybe he needs to hear it as much as I need to say it.
"She led me to believe he never fought for me or cared really.
I know now I was too young to do anything for myself, but it took some time to understand that.
But it hit me again when I got the call that he was gone and I came here and realized he was still holding on to me, in his own way.
.. he just didn't... He spent his life watching me from afar, and I spent that same time thinking my mom was right, that he didn't care.
It wasn't until I came back, until it was too late, that I realized not everything was as it seemed. "
Nate seems to be relaxing more and more as I speak, and for some reason, I want that. I want to lessen the tension and uncertainty he is carrying. But these are things I don't say out loud, I haven't talked to anybody about except my therapist.
I take another swig of my wine. I look up, and a shiver runs through me.
The intensity with which Nate is watching me is unsettling in a different way.
His large hand is still on my leg, radiating heat through me.
He squeezes lightly and then whispers, "I am sorry.
" He clears his throat but doesn't take his eyes off of me. "Are you still close with your mom?"
Unease skitters through me. How to explain that relationship?
I go with the truth, mine at least. The honesty I have only been able to see with distance and therapy.
"No. I don't know if we ever were. My mom was never settled; she was always chasing something.
I don't know what. I don't even think she knew.
But she was never happy with what she had, always thought she was owed more.
I wasn't her daughter; I was her best friend and sometimes her parent. "
I take a moment to collect my thoughts and another swig of wine, when I realize I have hit the bottom of my mug.
I must make a face because Nate gets up, gently moving to the kitchen, filling my mug and grabbing one of his own, like he's done this a million times before. Like he belongs in this space with me.
When he's settled back down with me on the couch, I continue, "Guilt was her weapon of choice: that and her ability to make everything about her. When I graduated from high school, I knew I needed to leave her. I had to figure out who I was outside of her influence."
I close my eyes because for the first time I want to tell someone this, the thing I couldn't even tell my dad when I came here looking for an anchor, for a home.
Nate doesn't say a thing; he lets me get my thoughts together. His hand back on my leg like the touch can center me, provide me safety and comfort.
My heart is racing, but I push the words out.
"She overdosed after I left. They say that it was accidental, but.
.. but I think she did it on purpose." I take in a breath that hurts, my bruised ribs protest as I try to suck in enough air to continue, "She told me when I left that I was selfish, that I owed her to stay with her and take care of her.
That she kept me when she didn't need to, she raised me when no one else wanted me.
That if I left her, I would regret it. I wasn't even gone two days when I got a call from her that I ignored.
She... she left me a voicemail telling me I was an ungrateful bitch, that no one understood her, that she was too good, too big for this world, that she was stuck in and that it was all my fault.
" I close my eyes and feel a tear slip through.
"I got a call from a neighbour asking me if I had heard from my mom.
They were worried, so I called the police for a wellness check.
I wasn't sure if this was another one of her manipulations to pull me back in.
When they called me back, I knew by the police officer's voice. She was gone."
The silence is heavy until Nate breaks it, "I sent all the girls home. The guys are still at my place, though. They all wanted to come with me, but I wanted to see how you were doing before I allowed the shit show to descend."
I open my eyes and a small smile tugs at my lips.
I know what he is doing. He isn't ignoring what I revealed, but he is bringing it back to him, back to a question he ignored earlier.
He is making this easier on me. This sensitive, attentive, quiet version of Nate is one I'm not sure what to do with.
The cocky player, I can put in a box at the back of the closet with a label that says do not touch. .. but this Nate...
He gives me a small smile back, "They want to stop by when they can. They feel bad about what happened today, the disturbance at the farm. I need to talk to my family about going back to help get caught up."
"They can come by tomorrow if that will make them feel better."
Something shifts in Nate's expression, and my core clenches, which causes me to wince.
Nate squeezes my leg and asks, "What can I do to make you feel better?"
My mind spins, and lots of ways this man can make me feel better run wild.
But I know I need to tread carefully with him.
I won't lie and say I am not attracted to him, curious about him.
But I also don't want to end up with someone like my mom, who is constantly chasing something.
Whoever I end up with needs to want me for me, be happy with this life, because I know this is the life I want to live.
Nate looks like he is going to say something, but then the sound of tires on gravel reaches us. A door slams, and a flustered Adam bursts through the screen door. He sucks in a breath, staring at me, "Jesus, T."
My eyes trail to Nate, because I can feel his body has stiffened. Adam doesn't notice him or just doesn't care. He drops to his knees beside me, his hands hovering like he doesn't know where he can touch me. "Babycakes, what the hell... You look broken."
I want to laugh at this ridiculous man, but the tension radiating off of Nate is palpable.
Then Chase enters carrying bags, "Thanks for the help, asshole."
He drops everything by the island and turns to take in the situation. His eyebrows raise slightly with a grin that tells me he is entertained by the sight in front of him.
He moves into the living room, "Hey, Nate."
Nate grunts, and Adam's head turns in his direction. He narrows his eyes, and I don't need him tearing into Nate right now.
Nate must sense the shift because he stands, placing his mug on the table, "I should go. I just wanted to see that you were ok."
He has that lost look on his face again, "How about you give me your number so I can make sure I am presentable when you bring the guys over."
I look at Adam, who looks like he is almost vibrating. "Can you hand Nate my phone?"
He doesn't move, "Adam. My phone, please, it's behind you on my table."
Adam still doesn't move; his eyes are fixed on Nate. Chase scoffs and grabs my phone off the table, handing it to Nate. I give my best elbow to Adam, but he just grabs my arm and holds it tight.
I smile at Nate, not liking how this is ending. "Give me your number, and I will let you know when it is a good time to bring the circus."
He doesn't smile, but he does enter his number into my phone and then hands it back to Chase.
Nate looks at me one more time, he raps his knuckles on the door frame, and then he's gone.
Chase hands me my phone. And he and Adam get to fussing around me.
I am wrapped in ice compression wraps, propped up with pillows and dotted on.
I appreciate them, I adore them as friends.
I appreciate that I have a community around me now that I only dreamed about growing up.
But my mind is stuck on the look on Nate's face when he walked out my door.