Running in Place (Mending Hearts) (31 page)

He tries to look away, but I maintain my hold, guiding his stare back to me. “You are the light that led me out of my darkness. At your father’s, I thought that light was gone, but it’s not. It’s faint, but I can still see it. You’ve just buried it so deeply because of
him
that you can’t feel it anymore. Trust me when I say that it is still burns within you and that after time, you
will
find it again.”

Leaning into him, I press my lips against his, clutching his face in my hands as I try to make the moment last. I hold him tightly, but I also know that eventually, I have to let him go.

As water streams down our faces, his trembling mouth still against mine, I finally release my grasp on him. Once we separate, my throat constricts as I try to swallow my tears. I peer into his eyes, willing him to understand. “You
will
find it.”

He reaches towards my face with his hand, running his fingertips across my forehead, pressing my drenched hair away from my eyes. “The problem is Tate, is that if I ever do find it, I will have already lost
you
.”

Closing my eyes, I take his hand into mine, uncurling his clenched fingers as I brush my lips across the center of his palm. Glancing back up, I give him a soft smile. “Never.”

The corners of his mouth turn down as he casts his glance to the side. “Don’t you dare wait for me. As much as it kills me to say it, just…
don’t
. I can’t bear the thought of you putting your life on hold waiting for me to come back, because I’m not.”

Shaking his head, he tightens his stare as he looks back at me. “Unlike me, you
have
a choice, Tatum. Live your life, for you. Let go of your past — be who you were meant to be, not who
she
made you. You’re so much better than that. You’re so much better than
me
.”

Jerking his chin away from my touch, he adds harshly, “Which is why I have to let you go.
Tonight
. No looking back.”

His words knock the air from my lungs as my heart collapses into my stomach. I try to swallow, but the knot in my throat scrapes the sides, the pain unbearable. Breaking his stare, I look at the ground, letting his words sink in.

I knew this moment was coming, but I guess there’s nothing to really prepare you for when someone you love completely guts you from the inside out.

I can feel the walls building back around my heart, every bit of openness and vulnerability that I ever exposed locked safely behind them. A cold shudder runs through my body as the rain continues to drench my clothes. My hands shake uncontrollably as I inhale my sorrow, running them over the top of my head, gathering my hair at the nape of my neck and twisting it over my shoulder before looking back at him. “Well, there’s no time like the present. Let’s get going then.”

His eyes red and swollen from crying, the tears once again surface with his beaten expression as he simply nods and rises from the ground. Reaching down, he extends his hand to help me up, which I refuse. Pressing myself off the pavement, I walk to the Jeep in silence and alone. In fact, the entire way to back his house we’re completely quiet.

Once we arrive, I don’t even wait for him to open my door before grabbing my overnight bag and purse and jumping out. After unlocking the front door, I head into his house, still overcome with anger. But, as soon as I hit his bedroom, I pause, struck by the memories as the pummel my mind and crush my heart. Finding his lyric journal with my doodle napkin, the song he sang to me the night I fell in love with him, the time he took convincing me of my beauty, the laughter, the tears, all of it — every single moment spent with him in this room represents one the best times of my life.

Finally braving my way in, I set my purse by the bed and begin to scoop my clothes off of his desk, and the floor, and his chair, snickering to myself with each piece of clothing I pick up. Well, at least his room will be neat again. I’m sure that will make his life easier.

Light infiltrates the dimly lit room and I glance over my shoulder to see him standing in the doorway watching me as I pack up all my belongings. Without a word, I march into the bathroom. Grabbing all of my toiletries from the cabinet and tossing them in my bag, a half-smile forms on my lips when I see his new toothbrush sitting right next to mine, remembering his expression as he held the old one above the toilet, dripping wet, just yesterday.

After throwing my toothbrush in with all my other stuff I exit the bathroom, only to find him sitting on the bed in front of me, looking down at his threaded fingers, the light from the doorway hitting him like a beacon in the night. Just when I thought my heart couldn’t break any more.

Walking over to him, I set my bag on the floor beside my purse and lean forward, placing my palm on his cheek. His bloodshot eyes look up at me, and damn if those walls don’t start to splinter and crack. His lip is already scabbing over along with the cut by his eye, providing a true testament to why he has to leave. I know it’s not his choice. It’s out of his hands, and I can’t let him leave with the guilt that’s plaguing his face.

He’s right. I’m so much better than that.

“Well,” I exhale as I shrug my shoulders, “We had a good summer, huh?”

As he barely nods, I add, “Thank you, Noah, for loving me.
Every
part of me,
flaws and all
.” Upon my last word, he solemnly presses his cheek gently into my hand as a lone tear escapes his eye. Swiping it with my thumb, I bend over and place a kiss on his cheek before leaving picking up my belongings, throwing them over my shoulder, and leaving his house.

Getting into ol’ P.O.S., I turn the key and pray she starts. After I hear the familiar clicking sound of the engine, I shift into reverse and back out of the driveway, leaving the only person I ever loved to live his life without me.

Reaching into my purse, I grab my phone and search for the name of the only person I feel like being with right now.

The one person who will let me cry myself to sleep without passing judgment.

As soon as the name
Harlow
pops up, I press send and burst into tears.

Three days.

Three days Tatum has been here, holed up in my guest room, coming out only to use the bathroom and occasionally to shove something not even remotely nutritious into her mouth before cooping herself back up again.

Which reminds me, I should probably start buying celery instead of Snickers. Food for thought.

Ha! I make myself laugh.

Any-whoooo…

When she called Sunday night, I told her to get her ass over here immediately. Somewhere between her sobs I heard the words
Noah
,
toothbrush
, and
gone.
I knew this was going to happen eventually, just not
this
soon. Needless to say, I was more than prepared. As soon as she arrived, I gave her a box of Kleenex, a pint of Chunky Monkey with a spoon, and a shoulder to cry on as any good friend should. And cry she did — the whole night into the next day.

That was day one.

Day two, she bawled miserably. And ate
two
more pints of Chunky Monkey.

And day three? Well, let’s hope we’ve upgraded to at least moping status or I’m staging an intervention. I’ve been known to do this before. Alex can attest to this.

Over the duration of Tatum’s time here, I’ve learned that Noah’s father is an asshole that I hope to meet in a dark alley one day. Alone. With nun chucks.

I also learned that Noah left for Harvard, against his own wishes, leaving Tatum here with no hope of them being together and me here to watch her mutate into an extremely emotional Ben and Jerry’s fiend.

But the most impressive thing I learned is that Tatum is growing. The old Tatum would be spending her nights at every bar in town getting sloppy drunk and acting like a crazy ass fool. This Tatum, while tremendously weepy, is allowing herself to actually experience emotion and work her way through the pain she feels. She’s finally taking a step in the right direction and I want to make sure she stays on that path.

I’ve given her time, but now, I think it’s time we had a chat. Plus, I really need to air out my guest room and she really needs to take a shower.

Tapping lightly on the door, I wait for her to call me in before entering. Poking my head in, I see her lying on the bed in the same
Ramones
t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts that she’s been wearing three days straight. Her long legs are stretched the length of the bed, crossed at the ankle, with her arms thrown on the pillow above her head. With her long hair in a ponytail on the top of her head, she’s focusing intently on the ceiling with dry eyes.
Thank God
, I think we’ve finally entered the moping phase.

“How’re you doing, sweet girl?” I ask, while taking a seat on the bed beside her.

“Better,” she replies, still gazing upward. “I’m just re-evaluating my life,
again
.”

Placing my hand on her knee, I give her a light squeeze. “Well, sometimes we need to take a step back and look at things in a different light. It helps us to re-establish priorities and focus. Lord knows I’ve had to do it a time or
thirty
.” I chuckle to myself. “Come to any mind blowing conclusions?”

She breaks her gaze from the ceiling, her blue eyes still puffy and red, to meet mine as she shrugs her shoulders. “A couple, I guess. I hate men being one of them.”

Laughing, I respond, “That’s to be expected with all the tears and the recent surge of banana, fudge and walnut ice cream floating around here lately.” Nudging her over, I sprawl out on the bed beside her, laying my head on the pillow next to hers and cross my hands over my chest, waiting for her to speak.

“I’ve really messed things up, Harlow,” she starts, her voice shaky. Lifting her arms from above her head, she covers her face with her hands as she tries to gain control of her tears. After a couple of minutes, she proceeds. “I haven’t been to work at the bar or the duplexes in three days. I’m pretty sure I’m fired.” She takes in a deep breath trying to calm herself. “So, I have no job. And I can’t get the job I really want because I dropped out of school right before I graduated. Absolutely brilliant decision,
Tatum
,” she reprimands herself.

After wiping the tears from her cheeks, she lowers her hands and twists her neck to face me. “I can’t go back to my house. There are too many memories there that haunt me. So, I have nowhere to go.” Tears continue to stream out of the corners of her eyes. “I have no one. Trace and I have absolutely
no
relationship. Sadie won’t speak to me. And Noah, well he’s gone,
obviously
.”

Rolling on my side, I take her nearest hand and cup it between mine as she continues. “So, I’m a jobless, uneducated, homeless, lonely person, perpetually fixed in the same place in life. Going absolutely nowhere.
That
is my mind-blowing conclusion.”

I can’t help but smile in response. It’s so wrong, but I do, for two reasons. One, because I forgot how melodramatic the twenties can be. And two, if those are the only things holding her back, then we’re golden. Because, as usual, I have all the answers.