Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
“No way… wait, are you drunk?” She puts her hand over her mouth and a giggle slips from behind it. “Seriously?”
“Shut up.”
“All the years I’ve known you, and I’ve never seen you like this.” She laughs again. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”
“Go to your room. I’m fine.” I push myself up until I’m standing, but the room tilts and I grab for the nightstand. It’s been too long since I last drank like this.
“I hate to state the obvious, but you’re not fine.” She stops laughing and comes in, reaching for me. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Right, and the sky isn’t blue.” She’s loving this, isn’t she? Seeing me weak. “Come on, let’s put you to bed.”
“Laugh it up,” I mutter.
“Oh, I will.”
She pulls back the blankets then guides me until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. “So, is this a new side of you I’ll see often? I mean, you sent your friend home pretty quick and then decided to get drunk.”
“I knew it,” I mumble. Why the hell is it so hard to pull off this T-shirt? She tries to help, but I slap her hands away. “I knew you would ask about her.”
“Is she coming back?”
I snort and shake my head, but that only makes the room spin. “You’re so jealous.”
“Am not.”
“Yeah, you are. You can’t stand not knowing about her or if she means anything to me.”
“If she likes you, then she must be crazy.” She leaves the room, and I fall back against the pillows. That’s a good idea, since the room doesn’t spin as much when I’m like this.
I close my eyes, but they only snap open once she returns. “Water. Drink it.” She leaves two bottles on the nightstand. “Ibuprofen. You’re going to want to take this.” She leaves that with the water, then picks up my legs and drops them onto the bed.
“I know what to do when I’m drunk.” She starts pulling the blankets over me and I pull them out of her hands.
“Sure, sure. Just let me take care of you for once, okay? I might never get the chance again.”
“I’m so tired.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I didn’t mean to say that. All my thoughts are coming out before I can stop them. And I don’t want to. “I’m tired in my soul. Been tired for such a long time. Can’t remember when I wasn’t.”
“I’m not surprised,” she whispers. Her touch is gentle and welcoming as she brushes hair away from my forehead. “You can’t always handle everything at once. That’s all you ever try to do. You’re only one person, and I know you like to act like you aren’t human, but you are, and you can only do so much.”
“You should go now.” Because if she doesn’t, I might have to touch her, and once I start, I’ll never be able to stop.
“Tatum?” I blurt when she reaches the doorway.
She turns back to look down at me. “Yes?”
“I wasn’t trying to take your dad away from you. I never wanted that.”
“Huh?”
I force my eyes open wide and lift my head. “You yelled that at me. Years ago. Told me… to get my own dad. I wasn’t trying to take him.”
“Jesus,” she whispers. “What made you remember that?”
My head hits the pillow again when I run out of strength. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you. You know that, right? I need you to understand that.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know. And everything’s gonna be okay. Just get some sleep.”
I want to tell her I don’t have a choice, since my eyes are already starting to close before I can get the words out. In the back of my memory, there’s a single scream muted by the years between then and now. “Don’t!”
Darkness mercifully closes around me before I remember anything else.
CHAPTER 20
TATUM
He's going to be hurting today.
Even though I feel bad for him when I imagine the sort of hangover he's going to be fighting, I can't help but smile to myself when I get out of bed. He’s human, after all. He's not the cold machine he pretends to be. For once, I was the one wholly in control and he was the stumbling, awkward mess.
An awkward mess who doesn't want to hurt me. I don't know where that came from, but I want to believe he meant it. I want to believe it so much I almost hate myself for it. When am I going to stop hoping for more than he can give me?
That's the question I can't get out of my head as I go through the motions of my day. Cleaning a little, reading a little. Thinking about what could have triggered him to get wasted when I have never seen him even slightly tipsy in the past ten years. All the times he had to drive me home when I was drunk and sloppy. All the snide little comments, the way he would deliberately raise his voice when he knew I was hungover and hurting the next day. I shouldn't have been so nice to him last night. Maybe I'm growing or something.