The girl was still waiting at the door and beamed when I reappeared with the signed napkin.
“Oh, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me. It’s his birthday tomorrow, and I couldn’t afford to get him anything, but this will be priceless.” Happiness oozed off her, and I felt bad for being reluctant. I handed her a $50 for the pizza. “Keep the change,” I told her, and she blinked back tears.
“You aren’t what I expected from a pro athlete. Thank you for being so kind.”
I closed the door and headed back to the living room to a very curious Tate.
“Plates?” I asked her when she sat up straighter, herrumbling stomach audible to my ears, even from where I was standing on the opposite side of the coffee table. That pretty blush I loved stained her pale cheeks right after, finally giving her some color. She’d been pale all evening, and I was growing increasingly worried about her.
“Cabinet above the Keurig,” she told me as she followed me into the kitchen and opened the pizza box. “Thank you for ordering food,” she said as I headed for the plates.
I smiled at her over my shoulder, enjoying the way her pupils dilated the tiniest bit, and her sweet mouth parted. God, I couldn’t wait to kiss her again.
I grabbed two plates from the cabinet she directed me to and handed them to her before stopping at the fridge. “Need another drink?” I called as I opened the fridge, grabbing a beer for myself.
“Water,” she called back, holding two plates with two giant slices of pizza on them. “Thanks.”
I headed into the living room with a beer and a bottle of water. After unscrewing her lid—because I knew she struggled with opening anything—I set her water in front of her before placing a breadstick and her own dipping sauce on her plate. If she still had the same tendencies she did when we were kids, she’d need a whole cup of marinara sauce to herself.
I used to tease her about it all the time. A fond smile touched my lips at the memory.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked after she chewed her first bite of pizza.
I chuckled. “How much marinara sauce you used to eat,” I told her honestly.
She shrugged. “I like marinara sauce.” Surprising me, she stuck her tongue out at me. I barked out a laugh. I’d missed this side of her so much. “Don’t judge my eating habits.”
I flashed her a smirk. “Never.”
I was dozing off,the second movie Tate put on boring me half to death, when Tatum’s scream echoed throughout the condo. I bolted to my feet at the same moment she jerked awake, sobs tearing from her throat, tears streaking down her cheeks as they poured from her haunted, green eyes.
The look in them left my soul feeling vacant. Tonight would haunt her for a long time to come.
“Tate, I’m here,” I rasped as I settled back down on the couch. Immediately, I drew her into my arms and gently rocked her from side to side, peppering kisses on her damp cheeks and her forehead. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now. I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”
Her fingers were twisted into my shirt, stretching the material, but I didn’t care. Turning her head, she burrowed her face in the curve of my neck and continued to cry, her body trembling in my arms. I tightened my hold on her, wishing I could wipe the grocery store part of the night from her mind, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t, and I hated it.
“I miss my mom,” she sobbed, and my heart clenched at the brokenness in her tone.
I wished her mom was still here. I wished I could have been there to stop her from taking her own life, but I couldn’t. So, I did what I knew Icoulddo to help her, which was to keep rocking her, whispering soothing words in her ear, and keeping my hold on her tight to keep her grounded. Her tears eventually slowed, and before long, her breathing regulated. She slumped in my arms, relying on me to support her weight, which I certainly didn’t mind.
Easing to the edge of the couch, I slowly stood to my feet with her cradled against my chest. She tightened her hold on my shirt. I brushed my lips against her hair. “I’ve got you,” I whispered.
She made a small noise in response.
I hadn’t paid any attention to her bedroom the other night. I was so laser-focused on her and wanted to kiss her. Looking around the small space, it was just so…her. Warm colors, lights strung around the ceiling, plush pillows all over her bed, and a pink fuzzy shag rug on the floor.
Gently, I set her on her mattress, and she shook her head, her eyes still not opening. “Stay,” she mumbled, though her sleep slur was so heavy and thick, I barely understood her. “Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.” Her words were soft, broken, pleading.
“I won’t go,” I said quietly, running my hand over her hair. “I’ll stay however long you need. But you must let go of me so I can get in bed, too.”
She slowly—very slowly—uncurled her fingers from my shirt, and I peeled it over my head before sliding into bed on the other side. She curled up against my side, her head resting on my chest.This felt right.I’d been in bed with so many girls, and never had I ever let them sleep with me. Never had I wanted a moment of intimacy like I craved right now with Tatum.
Nothing could have prepared me for how good it felt to hold her like this. To cuddle with her as she slept. To be the person she needed in this moment of darkness.
My phone vibrated for the umpteenth time tonight. Sighing, I pulled the device from my back pocket.
