“You definitely don’t have to tell me, but what happened to your parents?”
He hesitates for a while, picking at his cuticles and staring down at his hands, until he inhales shakily and says, “They’re dead.”
Oh. Jesus Christ. How do I just keep putting my foot in my mouth somehow?
“I’m so sorry, Tate.”
His brows cinch ever so faintly as he looks at me for a moment before he clears his throat. “Please stop doing that.”
Panic shoots through me. “Doing what?”
“Apologizing.”
And before another “sorry” can slip through my lips, the waitress is back again, this time with our food. I’m mentally thanking my lucky stars for the interruption, before I can somehow tank this conversation any more than I already have.
With our food between us and enough minutes passed to feel like I can change the subject comfortably, I pick up a fry, taking a bite and swallowing before I speak again.
“When’s the last time you’ve been home?” I ask.
He mimics me as he picks up a fry. “Before I moved to Pittsburgh for college.”
“Wow,” I mumble, chewing another bite of food. “You don’t miss it?”
The urge to smack my palm against my forehead is strong, but I pick at a chicken tender instead. Why is my brain not working all of a sudden? It’s like all these insensitive questions keep slipping out of me before I can stop to consider that they may bother him. But he doesn’t appear upset as he dips his chicken in ranch, taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing before giving me a small smile.
“Sometimes.”
Whew.
“How come you went to college across the country?” I ask.
“Needed a, uh, change of scenery.”
I knew that feeling all too well. As perfect as my home life was growing up, I felt trapped when I graduated high school. Sheltered. Under the constant eye of my family. There was no way for me to grow when I felt like that.
“Me too.”
“You didn’t like it in San Diego?” he asks softly.
“I did, but I wanted to get away. Find myself. Figure out what I wanted to do with my life.”
And here I was, four years later, knowing where I was going with my career, but not with myself. What I wanted for myself was still lost in the void somewhere, always just within my grasp until it was slipping a little further away every time.
“And did you? Find yourself?”
I smile weakly, but I hope he doesn’t notice. “Still trying to, I guess.”
I had almost four years of college under my belt, with medical school underway, and those were things I should be proud of. Iamproud of those things, but I feel like the girl I am now doesn’t deserve to be proud. Doesn’t deserve how good they are, how good they are for me and my future. I feel like an impostor.
Landon sucked the life out of me. I used to be a bright, happy girl who looked forward toeverythingbecause I saw the positive in every little thing. He crushed that girl in me. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to recover from him, but I was still trying. I knew four months wasn’t that long to heal from someone who murdered your soul. I knew that it was going to take time to pick up the pieces of myself that he tried to take from me.
If I could just seem to find them.
CHAPTER TEN
TATUM
Tuesday, December 21st
