Page 21 of Only You

SEVENTEEN

I’m scared.

No. Scared is an understatement. I’m terrified beyond belief. Never been this afraid of anything in my entire life.

Because this is just too good.

Everything with Tatum feels natural and easy. And nothing in my life has ever been easy. I set these rules for myself, to protect myself. And then Tatum comes in, just being his usual self, and suddenly I’m going on dates.

I’m kissing him nonstop.

I’m completely and totally in love.

And still, it all feels so incredibly easy. I keep waiting for it all to go to hell, but so far, it hasn’t.

There hasn’t been any issue whatsoever. I even deleted my hookup app, not because he asked me to but because I wanted to. Because now that I’ve felt his touch, nothing else will even come close to pleasure.

Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I’m part of a couple. Something I never thought I had. Something I never thought I even wanted to have—well, at least not in a really long time.

And that’s exactly what we are. Even if we haven’t defined it officially. We are a couple.

Tonight, we’re actually at Phillip and Kellan’s house, watching Kieran while Phillip and Kellan take Braylen trick-or-treating. Braylen looked absolutely adorable in his little superhero costume, and so did Kellan and Phillip in their matching costumes.

The doorbell rings, and I’m not sure which one of us springs up quicker to grab the candy bowl and head over to the door, but it’s a close race. We hand out candy to two cute little unicorn princesses and wave goodbye before reconvening on the couch.

His big arm drapes over my shoulders, and we’re watching the classic Halloween on TV, but really my mind is on Tatum. And the relationship we have now.

“Maybe I do want kids.”

I can feel his smile, even though I’m watching the screen and don’t dare look at him. “Yeah?”

“It’s not something I thought I could ever have for myself. I think maybe that’s why I went into teaching and then becoming a principal—that, and I thought maybe I could see the signs—and not ignore them...”

I don’t think I’m making any sense until he squeezes my shoulder gently, and I look over at him, seeing him watching me intently. “You wanted to protect kids. That makes sense.”

I smile sadly. “I did. There were so many teachers I’d silently plead with when I was a kid—a broken, filthy, hungry child. Just begging for one of them to say something.”

He nods his head grimly. “I know.”

And the thing about being with Tatum—being with someone with a similar background—is he really does know. He probably felt the same way, sitting in a classroom and wondering if they knew what was going on. Feeling betrayed because they had to know and didn’t say anything.

I make sure my teachers at the school are vigilant. That they’re always paying attention. And that they report anything at all that seems off.

“I worry about passing on some of my…” He looks thoughtful, like he wants to say the right thing here. “Vices?”

I nod my head, knowing he’s talking about addiction.

We’ve discussed it briefly, I get the sense it’s something he’s ashamed of, but I don’t want him to be.

To me, it’s just part of him. Something he deals with on a regular basis.

A demon he fights and fights well because since we’ve come back in contact, I haven’t seen him slip once.

But if he did, it wouldn’t turn me off. I’d do everything I could to help him with it.

I don’t see it as a weakness. “There are so many pieces to you, Tatum.” I say honestly, looking into his beautiful, soulful eyes. “That’s just one of them.”

“It’s a pretty big one.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” I ask carefully.

“You know my mom is an addict. Was my whole life and then…like a dumbass, I didn’t stay away from it. Mostly alcohol. But other things too.”

I nod, listening and hopefully it doesn’t come off as judgement. I feel no judgement with Tatum. Just awe. “We didn’t exactly have the best role models and life wasn’t easy. I don’t blame you for trying to find something to numb it all.”

“Did you?” He looks terrified of my answer.

I lick my dry lips and shake my head, “No, but I thought about it. Many times. I wanted to quiet all the thoughts and the noise. I thought maybe it could make it go away.”

His head bob grimly, “Yeah. It doesn’t work for long.”

“That’s what you were trying to do, right?”

“Yeah.” He holds me closer to him. Like he needs to touch me and I’m more than okay with that. “I had drank a little in high school. I thought I had control of it, but then…”

My heart sinks because I know what the then is and I try to quell the nausea that comes with the guilt. He doesn’t need to see that right now. “I pushed you away.”

“It was my choice, Remy. And I would have gotten hooked no matter what. It’s in my blood.”

I turn my body enough to cup his jaw in my hand and look into his eyes, “There are so many things in your blood, Tatum. You are good. I know that maybe you don’t see it, but I do.

You love harder than anyone I’ve ever met.

And if we do have kids someday, I hope to hell they have so many parts of you. ”

“We’ll make sure they’re okay. We made it. We can make sure they do too.”

I smile brightly at that, briefly brushing my lips over his because I can’t resist. “We did.”

“It’s something I have to fight every day you know. I might slip.” He says it like a quiet warning. Like maybe it’ll scare me away.

“I’m not worried.” I tell him honestly. “I know you’ll always come back to me. And we all have our struggles, Tatum.”

That seems to settle him and I snuggle further into his side to get comfortable before he speaks softly again, his hand dragging gently over my arm.

“Do you ever see your mom?” Tatum is the only one who actually knows about my mother.

She was way too young when she had me. She wasn’t an addict like Tatum’s mom.

Not really. She was just way too young and wasn’t ready for a kid.

She wanted to date and flirt and party. She didn’t want to be tied down at sixteen.

So she left me with whoever would watch me, and one day the cops found me wandering around the streets of our block in pajamas in the middle of winter with no coat.

That started our bout with social services.

And it didn’t end until I finally finished high school and got myself emancipated. “No,” I say, trying not to think about my mom. I haven’t seen her since I found her working at a diner, pretty damn close to the house I was staying in, and she acted like she didn’t know me. “What about you?”

“Saw her a few years ago.” His voice is tight, and his tone dark, so I already know it didn’t go well. “She was a mess. Tried to pretend like she wasn’t using, but it was obvious. I knew I couldn’t be around her and stay clean.”

I nod my head knowingly. “I’m sorry.”

He just smiles easily, in that sweet Tatum way I’m becoming even more addicted to by the day.

“I could get really used to this, Tatum,” I say honestly, the admission terrifying me. “It feels so nice,” I say, snuggling into the crook of his neck, where honestly, I think I could live for the next fifty or sixty years.

“I’m already used to it, Remy. And if we do have kids someday, we won’t be like them.”

I lick my lips, my throat feeling dry as I think about my mother and how indifferent she always seemed to me. “You promise?”

“I do.” He says it so effortlessly, most people would probably think he’s lying—or that it’s false bravado. But it’s not. He really believes it. He hugs me even closer. “And I’m used to this. I fucking love this with you. Every moment of it, but I’m terrified of losing it.”

A big, incredibly strong man like Tatum admitting he’s scared isn’t lost on me. “You won’t lose me.” I look up and into his eyes. “Please don’t worry about that. I’m not going to push you away ever again.”

I can see in his eyes that he wants to believe me, but he doesn’t totally. And I can’t blame him.

I brush my hand over his cheek and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I promise you I’m not going anywhere. I was so scared to admit to you—or anyone—what happened. I thought it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t.” He says it so adamantly, it sends a distinct shiver down my spine. It makes me sit up a little straighter and turn my body to face him.

“I know,” I say quietly, willing myself to believe it through and through. “But I wasn’t ready to deal with it then.”

“I’m so sorry I push—” I cover his mouth with my hand to stop him from saying he pushed me.

“You didn’t. You were trying to be there for me. You wanted to make it better, but I wasn’t ready for it to be better. I wasn’t ready for it to be okay. And that’s on me, not on you. You were the best friend I ever had.”

He shakes his head with my hand still over his mouth, so I slowly drop it, though I’m fully prepared to argue with him. “I should have done more.”

My sweet, sweet man. I stroke his cheek with my hand and then drop it to his thigh. “No. You couldn’t have. I wasn’t ready. But I promise you, I may never be completely healed—or even okay—but I will not ever push you away.”

I watch his throat bob as he swallows the information and then gives a quick nod. “I...” My eyes widen, surprise already ripping through my insides because I just feel what he’s going to say.

He loves me. I’m ready for him to say it. I want him to say it.

“I like this part of the movie.”

It takes me a moment to realize what he said, my brow crinkling as I look over at the television, where some innocent teen is being stalked by Micheal Myers, and then back at him.

He looks a little green—like maybe that’s not what he meant to say, and I nod, settling into his arms again and watching the television, holding myself a little stiffly.