Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MAEVE
Tate may be putting on a normal face for everyone else, but I know something is off.
His smile is still squinty and his dimples still deepen as he does, but it’s…
off. There’s something that just isn’t right about it.
Like it’s not reaching his eyes the way it normally does.
Even his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing at dinner.
No one else could see, but I did, and he only does that when he’s really anxious about something.
I feel so bad, I could throw up.
I can’t imagine how he’s feeling with his mom calling him on Christmas, of all days, to ask him for something when they haven’t spoken in so long.
It’s such a cruel thing, and I wonder if she’s even aware that she’s doing this to him.
I wonder if he’s ever told her. But it’s not my place to ask because I have no idea the extent of what he went through as a child.
Those are his experiences alone, and only he can speak for them.
It isn’t until we’re heading upstairs for the night that I am finally able to talk to him.
As I step into my room, I hold the door open as I turn to look at him. He’s lingering by his own door, hands shoved in his pockets as he peers down at me. There’s something sad in his eyes, and it breaks my heart to see him like this.
“Come in?” I offer.
He doesn’t say anything, but he walks into my room anyway. My head swivels as it follows him, watching as he sits down on my bed, staring down at his hands resting on his thighs. Closing the door behind me, I wrap my arms around myself in a tight hug as I make my way over to him.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
He frowns down at his hands. “I don’t…know. I don’t know what to say.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m…okay.” He doesn’t sound confident at all. He can’t even look at me as he says it, and I sigh weakly, my arms falling to my sides.
“No, you’re not.”
As his chin drops to his chest, I can’t stop myself from rushing over to him. Standing between his legs, I cradle his head against me, resting my chin on his hair as I hold him for a few seconds in silence. My chest rises and falls with each shaky breath.
“Haven’t talked to her in three years,” he mumbles after a while.
I lift my head from his as I frown down at his hair, biting at my lip to keep my chin from trembling. I don’t want to cry, not now, not when it’s him who needs me. Not the other way around. I don’t want to make this about me.
“Last time we spoke, she wanted money. That’s the only time she calls… When she needs something from me.”
I can’t imagine how awful it must be to have a mother like that. Having a mother who doesn’t care about you. The thought makes my stomach feel uneasy, makes a heaviness settle on my chest. All I can picture in my head is little Tate, young and innocent with his big glasses, and—
My eyes water at the thought.
“I’m sorry, Tate.”
His hands find my lower back as he rubs it slowly, back and forth, over and over. He’s the one who needs comforting, yet here he is, soothing me somehow.
“Your mom,” he says, and his voice sounds thick. “She’s nice. Normal.”
My eyes squeeze shut at that.
God, what do I do?
How do I make this better?
“That’s how a mom should be,” he says quietly. “Not… Anyway.”
His voice sounds so far away, so tired. My heart feels like it’s shattering inside my chest for him. Today was probably terrible, reminding him of the things he never had when he was younger. And I was rambling on and on this morning… God. I’m such an idiot.
My eyes are watering so badly that I can hardly see now. What have I done? Did I ruin Christmas for him? Did I ruin the whole thing because I was running my mouth again?
“Tatum,” I rasp, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how today might feel for you, and I went on and on this morning… Oh, God—”
He finally looks up at me. “No, Maeve. Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” I ask in a small voice.
“Apologizing. You expressed your feelings this morning; you don’t have to apologize. Today meant everything to me.”
The shock that ripples through my body almost has me shivering at his words. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but I never do. He keeps surprising me. “It did?”
He nods.
“I thought you were upset. You—”
“I was overwhelmed. But I…liked it. I’ve never really celebrated Christmas before. My mom calling me threw me off,” he pauses, “but it only reminded me of how lucky I am. To be here. With you.”
I’m momentarily stunned, again. My mouth even hangs open slightly this time. “You—I—You feel lucky?”
“Yes.”
A tear manages to escape down my cheek as I quickly wipe it away with the back of my hand.
As minuscule as it was, Landon never told me things like that.
No one ever has. He would buy me things and show me off in front of important people, but in private…
he yelled, held things over my head, and grabbed my arms so hard sometimes that they would bruise.
Then he’d apologize later, almost a completely different person, and those times were so nice when it felt like he actually wanted me.
I clung to those times. It took me a while to realize what was happening between us was wrong.
Being around Tate makes it much clearer.
It’s like I’ve had on sunglasses this whole time, and now that they’re off, I can see things clearer, brighter. The gloomy shade doesn’t mask everything anymore.
He does that for me.
More tears must have fallen, because he’s reaching up to gently swipe them away with his thumbs, tearing me out of my thoughts.
“Don’t cry,” he pleads softly.
I try to drop my head to my chest to avoid looking him in the eye, but he quickly reacts, grasping my face in his palms to hold me there.
The notion makes my stomach flip, and I hesitantly peer down at him.
There was a time when I was scared to cry in front of people, scared of the reaction I would get.
Landon would tell me I’m too sensitive, too much of a crybaby.
Stop crying, Maeve. It makes you look puffy.
Stop crying, Maeve. I can’t stand listening to you.
Stop crying, Maeve. All you do is cry.
“It’s okay,” Tate whispers. “You can let it out. As long as you need to.”
Like he just read my thoughts, he silences them in one breath.
The urge to cry dissipates as I stare down at him, blinking slowly as my eyebrows pull together, registering his words.
His face looks so soft as he watches me tentatively, waiting for what I’m going to do next.
He probably thinks I’m going to burst out in tears.
I was…I think, but now—now all I can think about is kissing the life out of him.
So I do.
I take one swift step forward at the same time I collide against him and envelop my arms around his neck, slamming my lips down on his.
I must’ve taken him by surprise, because he doesn’t move for a second, but it’s only a second before his hands fall from my face as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me further against him.
My fingers knot in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back just a bit, opening him up a bit more for me. When my tongue finally finds his, he’s pulling me into his lap like I weigh as much as a feather, groaning into my mouth as he does.
I can feel how hard he is underneath me, and somehow, I muster the strength to break the kiss, pulling back enough to see his face, his dilated pupils, his flushed cheeks.
“Is this…” I trail off.
He nods before I can finish.
Don’t rush this. Take it slow.
He needs you to think for him.
I don’t miss the smallest groan that leaves his mouth as I crawl off his lap and onto the bed beside him, one of my legs still draped across the top of his thighs.
He braces himself with his hands behind him, propping himself up as he leans back and stares at me with wild eyes.
I glance down at the erection straining against his jeans before peeking back up at him.
His chest heaves as he watches me, his cheeks so red that it could pass for a sunburn, and something about how I have that effect on him turns me on more than I expect.
Inching forward slowly, my hand reaches out to feel him over his pants, and he inhales sharply, his fingers gripping the sheets now. Arousal pools low in my belly as I watch his every move, every reaction to me, before giving him a soft squeeze, rubbing my palm back and forth over him.
A soft moan escapes him, and I have to fight the shiver from rolling down my spine. The sound is like music to my ears. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a guy moan like that because of me. Everyone I’ve been with was…quiet.
His gaze falls to my hand on him, his lips parted as his eyebrows cinch together faintly. It’s a look that will paint my memories forever.
“We can…take it slow,” I murmur. “Let me take care of you, Tate.”
He just nods desperately, his eyes never leaving my hand.
I don’t plan on taking it that far tonight because, for one, I don’t have any condoms here.
And two, this is his first time we’re talking about.
I want to handle this as delicately as possible.
It’s supposed to be special; he deserves special.
The little thread of doubt in my mind threatens to unravel with the hesitation of not being special enough for him, but I ignore it as I slide my hand up to the button of his pants.
The tension is thick in the air as I unzip his jeans, sliding my leg off him as I latch my fingers through the belt loops in the front, tugging faintly until he lifts slightly so I can shimmy them down his hips.
Once they’re resting around his thighs, my eyes fall on the now more prominent bulge under his plaid boxers.
“Are you sure?” I ask weakly, licking my bottom lip.
“Y-Yes,” he stammers. “Please.”