CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MAEVE
Friday, December 31st
Arms wrapped around myself, I quietly watch Tate from the doorway to the bathroom, observing him as he rubs between his brows with his fingers. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark room, nothing but the light from the TV glowing on his sad features as he stares at the floor. He’s been like this since the hospital called this morning.
I think he would’ve had this reaction either way, but I at least thought he might’ve felt…relieved somehow that the results came back positive?
Relieved to help his mother while still being able to set boundaries or cut her off completely on his own terms, not forced because of death.
But I think a lot of this lingering feeling he has is because ofus, or more so, because of me. We haven’t really had another conversation since we were interrupted by the phone call. It’s been small talk since. Is it because he could tell what almost left my lips? Could he see how absolutely stricken I was with the realization that I almost told him Ilovedhim?
I like him.
Ican’tlove him. I don’t know how to do it right.
There’s no possible way that I can love Tatum because I’m just confused. I’m in our blissful bubble of sex and friendship, and I’m just…confused. That’s all.
And I really, really hate this—not talking to him. Watching him sulk around like this is driving a screw through my heart. With everything he has going on, I shouldn’t be adding to it. I should be helping him relax, comforting him, not pressuring him into letting me pay for all of his stuff like I’m some sort of…
God. I must’ve really sounded like a spoiled brat.
Really great, Maeve. Good one.
Pushing from the doorframe I’d started leaning against at some point, I let my arms fall to my sides as I sigh heavily, stalking toward him. “Tatum.”
He lifts his head immediately to look up at me expectantly through his glasses. “Yeah?”
“I don’t wanna do this,” I practically whine, gritting my teeth as I swallow. “I don’t like it. I don’t like…small talk with you, okay? I don’t wanna feel like—like?—”
Tate grabs my hand, and my words fall flat on my tongue.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing my fingers gently.
“I’m…” I cock my head faintly. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Come here,” he tells me, tugging on my hand, and my heart plummets to my core at that command. It’s different coming from him because I’m usually the one telling him what to do, but I think I like it when it’s the other way around.
He positions me until I’m standing between his legs, his dark eyes looking up at me as his hands find my waist, rubbing and grabbing at the small sliver of skin there, massaging and kneading while his eyes don’t waver from me. Something about that makes my stomach flip excitedly, and I rest my hands on his shoulders as I let him continue his gentle assault with hisfingers. My body sways with the movement, and I have to fight the urge to straddle him.
His eyes flutter closed after a moment, and then he’s pressing his forehead into my sternum as he continues his massage. My fingers thread through his hair, matching the same rhythm and force of his fingers on my waist. It’s a tantalizing dance we’re doing in utter silence, but it feels so loud.
“I just have a lot on my mind,” he croaks, breaking the silence. “My brain feels so heavy.”
“What do you need, Clark?”
His massage stops, but he doesn’t lift his head. “I…”
When he doesn’t say anything else, I tug on his hair, forcing him to look up at me, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“Tell me what you need,” I say, firmer this time, but my voice low, “I want to hear words.”
His eyes are heavy as they flicker from my eyes to my mouth and back again. “I need y-you.”
My fingers tighten their grip in his hair, and he winces slightly as a breathless gasp leaves his lips. “You have to be more specific, baby. Yeah?” I nod, and the heat that sparks through me as he nods with me should be studied. “You need to use your words, Tatum. Tell me what youneed.”
His hands slide down from my waist until he’s gripping the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer. “I need to fuck you, Maeve.”
