The UN Series Complete Box Set (159 page)

I smile as I see a beautiful woman departing from the airport. She has her jet black hair over one shoulder. Her head is held high as she pulls a rolling suitcase behind her.

I exit the car and greet her. “Hello, Laura,” I say with a smile.

She lets go of her suitcase and wraps her arms around me. “Hello, Missy. How are you doing?” She pulls away and cups my face with her hand. “How are things with my son? I heard you two are a couple.”

“Who told you that?” I ask, wondering who she has talked to.

“Sam filled me in on it last night when I called her,” she tells me as I grab her suitcase and place it in my trunk.

“We are,” is all I say, coming around the car and getting in. She smiles happily and I ask the question that has been on my mind since she called. “What are you doing here?”

“I got a letter from Jonathan.” She reaches into her purse. “He said that he’s being released early and that he was coming for Tate.”

I frown. “Why would he send you a letter? That would be evidence.” That’s not very smart.

She looks over to me. “He plans on destroying all things, sweetie.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, looking out the windshield. “Why would you come back here?”

“I let my son down for too long. I won’t allow Jonathan to hurt him anymore.”

I nod my head in understanding. I drive a few miles before I speak. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got you a hotel,” I say softly. I feel like the wicked girlfriend who hates her boyfriend’s mother. But Tate won’t even answer her phone calls. I think it’s gonna take me a couple of days to get him to speak to her face to face. And I still don’t have a plan on how to make that happen.

She nods. “That’s for the best.” She looks over giving me a soft smile. “Thank you for helping me. I know you don’t have to do anything for me.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TATE

“Dude, she was hot as fuck,” Parker says referring to the woman that he brought over to the house earlier this afternoon. “But she couldn’t fuck for shit.” He laughs. “That’s usually how it goes, though.”

I shrug ‘cause I have encountered that before.

“I mean, really. Give me a girl who is good on her knees and on her back—I may fuck her more than once,” he continues.

I chuckle as we pull up to Sam and Slade’s house. I had spoken to Slade earlier. He said they weren’t doing anything and to come on over. They were just gonna be chilling at their house. And by they—I’m guessing he means all the guys since the girls are having a girls’ night.

I get out of the car and walk up to the front door. I don’t even knock. I just walk on in with Parker behind me.

“Time to get this party started,” he yells as he heads for their kitchen holding a thirty pack of Bud Light. “We brought the booze; now, Slade, you can call up the bitches.”

“Shhhh.” Sam rushes into the kitchen and whispers, “Shut up you idiot. Sadey is asleep,” she chides him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, looking at her pajamas that have little kittens all over them.

“Nice,” Parker says as he notices them too. “You know I’m a big fan of pussy,” he jokes, and her green eyes narrow on him. “Especially more than one.”

She ignores him and turns to me. “What do you mean what am doing here?” she snaps. “I live here.”

I frown. “What’s wrong with you and why didn’t you go out with the girls?”

She goes to speak but pauses for a second. “The girls didn’t go out tonight,” she states placing her hands on her hips.

“Yes they did,” I argue. “Missy told me earlier today that you guys were having a girls’ night tonight.”

She shakes her head. “Courtney is at home with Josh and the babies. Austin is sick.” She gets a big smile on her face. “And Holly is home with Micah. She can’t drink. She’s pregnant,” she squeaks jumping up and down.

I don’t understand. “I came into the kitchen this morning and I heard Missy talking on her phone and she told me it was you. And that she was going to be busy with a girls’ night…”

I trail off when I see the smile drop off of her face and her face has the look of fear on it.

Parker laughs. “This is gonna be good.” He holds up his index finger. “But if she skipped out on Tate to see my brother; I will cut him.”

“Shut up,” I say snapping at him and then look back to her. “Tell me what’s going on,” I demand and she looks at me with uncertainty. “I know that you know. And you better tell me.”

Her shoulders lump and she lets out a breath. “She went to the airport,” she says reluctantly.

“Why the hell would she go there?” Parker asks through a mouthful of potato chips. “There’s nothing entertaining there.” He then smiles. “Unless you wanna join the mile high club. And my brother would never do that. He’s too fucking boring. I, on the other hand…” He reaches down and lifts his pants up with a cocky grin on his face. “I’m a member. Have been for years.” He winks over at her.

I ignore the fucking idiot and his ramblings. “Why?” I ask as well when she just stands there.

“Because she had to pick Laura up,” she whispers.

I stand there and stare at her, wondering if I just heard her right. Did she really just say my mother’s name?

“Who’s Laura?” Parker asks. “A hot friend that she will share with me?” he asks hopeful.

Sam rolls her eyes. “Laura is Tate’s mother.”

“Oh. I remember her. I …”

I glare at him as he trails off. “What were you gonna say?” I ask him.

He gives me a smile. “I might have kissed your mother at Sam and Slade’s wedding,” he says lifting a shoulder. “I didn’t know who she was.” He raises his hands defensively.

I let out a breath. I couldn’t care less if he kissed her or fucked her. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say but that was not it. I wave him off.

“Why is my mother in town?” I demand, moving my attention back to my sister.

She sighs heavily. “Laura called me. Said she needed to talk to you. She was so worried about you. I told her that you were fine and about you and Missy. She wanted Missy’s number. See how things were going with you. So I gave it to her.”

“How does all that lead to Missy going to pick her up at the airport?” I question. The fucking bitch just can’t let shit go. And it’s irritating to the point I wanna punch the wall.

“She wanted to come and see you.”

I turn around giving her my back as I run hand over my face. This is why I hid in the shadows for so long. Why I kept who I was a secret. People think they know what’s best for you when they have no fucking clue!

“She’s worried about Jonathan coming…”
I laugh darkly. “I don’t give a fuck what she’s worried about. I don’t want to be around her,” I bark.

“I totally get it. I avoid my mother like the plague,” Parker mumbles to himself.

“What time was she coming in?” I ask needing to know how long I have until
Missy
drops her off at my front door.

“Six thirty.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the time. It’s past seven. “I gotta go,” I say heading toward the door. “Either leave with me, Parker, or find a way home,” I throw over my shoulder as I walk out.

Once I get in my truck and notice he hasn’t come out, I presume he has decided to stay. I start up the truck and pull out squealing tires.

After I make my way to my house, I pour myself a glass of Crown and sit down on the couch in the darkness.

I feel like that same little boy that I used to be, hiding out in the closet, waiting for my mother to come and find me. Or for Jonathan to swing the door open and yank me out as he yells at me for all the wrongs she has done.

My jaw clenches as I think of Missy. How could she do this? Go behind my back? Does she really think that I won’t care? That I won’t be mad at her for lying to me? That I would smile and say
oh
I love you, Mommy
.
You must have had a reason for all the shit you allowed
. Fuck that! Missy honestly thought that she has changed me.

She’s acting just like my mother. Putting me in a situation that I didn’t ask for. I take a drink of the Crown as I let out a deep breath.

It’s over!
And there is nothing she can do or say that will change my mind.

******

MISSY

I walk into Tate’s house. I give him a smile as I enter the living room and see him sitting on the couch. “Hey, sweetie,” I say happily, flipping on the light.

He lifts the glass tumbler in his hand and downs the dark liquid before he calmly lowers the now empty glass down to his knee.

My smile slowly fades as he stares at me with a dark expression. His eyes are hooded and his lips are in a straight line. A muscle ticks in his jaw and his right hand is white knuckled as he holds onto the empty glass.

“Just how many lies have you told me?” His deep voice comes out as a growl.

“What do you mean?” I ask heart racing. He knows that you lied about dinner with the girls. But does he know that the lie involves his mother? God, I hope not.

He looks down to the empty glass and then back to me. “Is that too hard of a question for you?” he asks as his eyes drill into mine. “It’s simple, really. How many lies?” His eyes drop to my stomach and I instinctively place my hand over it.

“The lies…?” he snaps. “How many were there?” He doesn’t let me answer. “I actually believed all that bullshit you told me,” he says shaking his head at himself.

“Excuse me?” I straighten my shoulders.

His lips twitch in the corners as if he wants to let an evil grin appear but he refrains. “Gonna stand up to me, are you?” He lifts an eyebrow—challenging me. “Gonna demand that I break you?” I have a feeling he wants to literally break me. “Or do you think I’ll lie down and be the good little boy that you want me to be?”

“Tate…” I say swallowing nervously.

“Don’t,” he interrupts me. “Go ahead. Call me Jonathan.” I watch the way his body stiffens when he says that name.

“Why would I…?”

His eyes narrow on me. “You really think I’m that fucking stupid?” he snaps. “You think I don’t know that my mother told you everything?” he shouts furiously as his face reddens from his anger.

I shake my head. “She didn’t tell me anything,” I say as my chest tightens. “She just wanted me to pick her up.”

He tilts his head to the side lips thinned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I lower my head and stare down at the floor. “Because I knew you would be mad,” I whisper.

I expect him to yell at me. “Yet you did it anyway.” His voice is now calm as if he was speaking to a child.

“She’s you mother…”

He stands from his couch in one quick movement and throws the empty glass across the room. It shatters as it hits the far wall and I jump back. “When will you understand that that means nothing to me?” he shouts losing his patience.

“She loves you,” I say trying to keep the tears back.

He stalks over to me his dark blue eyes stare down at me. “That word also means nothing to me,” he whispers harshly before he walks past me. “You should know that by now. You’ve said it to me plenty of times.”

I have and he refuses to say it back. It hurts more than I want to admit. “When will you realize I just want to help?” I shout to his back. “She just wants a chance.” I want him to believe in second chances. I gave him one. Why can’t he give her one?

He stops, his body stiffening, and he slowly turns back to face me. “A chance?” he repeats as his eyebrows rise to his hairline. Surprised by my words. “I gave her a chance. I gave her hundreds of chances. Mainly because
I
didn’t have a fucking choice in the matter.” He fists his hands down by his side. “She failed every fucking one of them.” His jaw tightens. “I begged her to save me.” He jabs a finger at his chest. “I begged her to save herself.” He shakes his head. “I was a fucking fool,” he roars as his eyes drill into mine. “Just like you are. Once you realize that, you will be better off,” he finishes off sharply.

“So, after everything so far, you expect me to give up?” I ask as my chest gets heavy. How can I give up on him? I told myself I never would. That’s all anyone has done to him.

“Yes,” he says simply.

“Are you just gonna give up?” I ask and my voice shakes knowing the answer he will give me.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he shouts. “I…” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a pained second. When he opens them, he looks up to me and they simmer with rage. “You know, I was fine before you came into my life.” His eyes narrow on me. “I was fine before you made me want you. Before you made me think I needed you to take away the pain. The memories. To make me feel the hope for something better.” His voice rises to the point my ears hurt.  

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep in the emotions that I don’t want him to see. Not anymore. Any second he’s gonna tell me to walk out that door. And I’m gonna have to do it with my head held high. He’s at that point, and he’s not gonna come back.

He takes a deep breath and I hold mine. Here it comes. “Some things aren’t worth fighting for.” His words slice me to the core.

I swallow the knot in my throat and whisper, “So, I’m not worth fighting for?”

He runs his hand over his unshaven face. “I’m tired of fighting.” He sighs and his shoulders slump. “Tired of trying so hard to only come up short. This is me, Missy. This is what I feel like every fucking day. I have to pretend to be someone different.” He hangs his head as he runs a hand over his cropped dark hair before he looks up at me. His dark blue and pained eyes pin me where I stand. “I’m tired of trying to love you.” His words break my heart although they hold no emotion.

He has officially given up. I’ve pushed too far, and it left me with nothing but a hollow chest.

My chest aches as my heart breaks to a million little pieces. Pieces that scatter the floor as if he just ripped it out of my chest and threw it across the room like the glass tumbler. Tears threaten my eyes and a knot forms in my throat. I won’t let him do this. He can’t let me go, not like this.

I say the last thing that I think may have an effect on him. Possibly bring him back to me—anger. It makes him want to fight. His anger I can handle. “Do you want me to beg?” My lip trembles and my words are barely an audible whisper.

He just stares at me. I take a step toward him. “You want me to call you Jonathan?” I say, and he actually growls. “You think you’re no better than him?” I open my arms wide gesturing to the broken glass on the floor. “Does that mean you want me to get down on my hands and knees and beg you?” I ask, getting angry as hot tears run down my face. “Because I will,” I say when he doesn’t answer. “I’ll beg for you to see yourself how I see you. I’ll beg for you to see what you don’t.”

“I see myself every day in the mirror,” he snaps. “And you know what I see? Hatred. Rage. Revenge. Nothing good comes from these things.”