Page 37 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

It had been two days. And not a single call or text from him. Not one.

I had gained ten thousand followers on Instagram overnight and had been reached out to by the owners of Salt and Siren to do another campaign with Griffin for their next launch because apparently, they’d sold out overnight.

He had created absolute chaos with that interview, and he knew it.

They lost their fourth game and were heading back home, where they were to play tomorrow in the Atlanta stadium. I was half expecting him to show up at my door any minute now with some big stupid grand gesture.

To ease my nerves, I’d gone out to get groceries, driving past my usual grocery store where the robbery had happened.

I still had yet to face my fears, so instead, I made the extra thirty-minute drive to the one outside of town.

I picked up a few essentials. I was running low on all my favorite snacks, and after my body had been torn apart last week, I was on a new diet .

I would have a damn hourglass body in three months, and then all those stupid people could suck eggs for all I cared.

I made my trip short, feeling a little uneasy and like I was being watched, which wasn’t unlikely after Griffin’s statement three days ago. But something was making my skin crawl. I just wanted to get home.

In the parking lot, I grabbed all my bags so I wouldn’t have to make two trips, then made the trip up the elevator to my floor and then down the long, narrow, carpeted hall to my door.

I was rummaging through my bag for my key when I looked up and noticed it was cracked open. I knew I didn’t leave it open. Pushing open the door, I dropped everything I was holding at the sight before me.

It had been absolutely trashed.

Reaching for my phone with shaky hands, I dialed 911 and waited for the operator. I was told to wait outside with someone to make sure the robbers weren’t there, but I wasn’t friendly with my neighbors, and Millie was working. So I called Dustin.

“Hey, you’ve been in the news a lot lately.” He answered on the second ring.

“Dustin,” I cried into the speaker and fell to my knees, looking at the mess in front of me.

“What happened, Tate? Talk to me.”

“Someone broke in. It’s…it’s…oh god, it’s such a mess,” I cried, wrapping one arm around my torso as I took in the broken things left discarded on the floor. This was my home. I had worked hard for it.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Millie?”

“Work,” I whispered, hot tears rushing down my cheeks.

“Call her. Have you called the police?”

“They should be here any minute. ”

“Stay on the phone with me, Tate. I’m here, okay? Everything in there was replaceable. I will replace it all, I promise.”

I nodded even though I knew he couldn’t see me. I just couldn’t find the heart or the words to tell him that nothing was replaceable because most of it had been Mom’s.

The police came.

Millie came.

Neighbors popped their heads out to see the commotion.

At the end of the day, it had been written off as a burglary because some money was missing, as well as some jewelry.

Millie helped me change the locks, and together we spent the evening cleaning the mess, but a sickening feeling kept twisting my gut.

I just knew it wasn’t a burglary.

I called Dustin back after Millie had finally left, half of me not even expecting him to answer due to the late hour, and the other half praying he would.

“Everything okay?” His voice was weary, laced with confusion and concern.

“Did I wake you?” I asked, settling onto my bed. My fingers traced the frame of the last picture taken of the three of us: Dustin, Mom, and me before everything changed. It was after Dad left, but before Dustin chose him.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. Are you okay? You never call.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Tonight was really scary,” I admitted softly, wishing he was here, that he was in the other room, that I wasn’t alone.

Dustin was quiet for a beat. “What did the cops have to say? ”

“They filed a report, but they basically told me not to hold my breath. No security footage. No real leads. Just…bad luck.” I swallowed hard, forcing a small, bitter laugh. “Lucky me.”

“Tate, you should come stay with me for a bit. Just until things settle.”

I hesitated, running a hand over my face. Dustin and I were working on things, but the idea of stepping into his world, the one he had chosen with Dad and his new family, made my stomach twist.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Dustin exhaled heavily, like he wanted to argue but knew better. “At least promise me you’ll look into getting better locks. Maybe a security system?”

“Yeah, Millie and I changed the locks already.” I forced a small smile, though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll add security to the long list of things I can’t afford.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “I’ll help.”

The offer caught me off guard, but I didn’t argue. Maybe I was too tired to fight him on it. Or maybe I didn’t want to.

Silence stretched between us, comfortable but fragile, like we were both trying to figure out how much space we were allowed to take up in each other’s lives.

Then Dustin spoke again, quieter this time. “I told Dad about the break-in.”

My stomach clenched. “Oh.”

“He…” Dustin hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully. “He’s worried about you.”

Something inside me recoiled, like it always did at the mention of him. “Great,” I muttered. “That makes up for everything.”

“Tate.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Sorry. ”

I wasn’t, not really. But Dustin was trying, and part of me—maybe a very small part—wanted to try, too.

“How is he?” I asked, even though I already knew. The question hung heavy between us.

“Not good.” Dustin’s voice was quieter now. “The treatments are taking a lot out of him.”

I swallowed hard. “Right.”

There were a thousand things I could have said. That I didn’t care. That it wasn’t my problem. That he deserved whatever was happening to him. But I didn’t say any of them.

Because, for all the anger I still carried, there was another part of me that couldn’t ignore the way Dustin’s voice wavered when he talked about him.

And that part, the part that still cared despite everything, was the one that finally whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Dustin let out a breath, like he’d been holding it. “Yeah. Me too.”

For the first time in years, it felt like we were standing on the same side of something. Maybe not as close as we once were, but not as far apart as we used to be.

And for now, that was enough.