Running in Place (Mending Hearts) (10 page)

“No, well, yes — there was
that
, but I was referring to the fact that I haven’t been sleeping. I never really do when I’m at my house.” She grabs the crayons again and starts drawing on another blank napkin before she continues. “I was actually awake really early this morning, but instead of going straight to the duplexes, I wanted to talk to Cash so I went there first.”

I palm my knee under the table and squeeze, so tightly my hand begins to shake.

If he touched her…if he hurt her…

“It was his cousin,” she takes a break from coloring to look up at me, tears filling those beautiful baby blues. “It was his
cousin
, Noah.” Her chin begins to quiver, and it takes everything in me to keep from jumping over the damn table to comfort her, but I don’t. I just squeeze my knee even tighter and let her finish. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she shakes her head and then covers her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling as she begins to sob.

Reaching across the red and white checkered tablecloth, I gently pry her fingers away from her eyes. After placing her hands back on the table, I lift mine slowly away from hers to wipe the tears as they roll slowly down the sides of her face. “Tatum, there’s nothing wrong with you,” I say, running my fingers over her moist cheeks one last time before backing away. “You reacted the way most women would have — well, bashing his truck not included. But the deduction was a natural one.” After getting a very, very slight lift of the corners of her mouth, I continue.

“Plus…Cash is a fucking loser. I was actually planning on beating the shit out of his truck with that bat anyway, so you saved me the effort. I should be thanking you.” When that gets me an actual smile, the pressure in my chest lessens and I take in a deep breath of relief. Seeing her upset seems to have a direct effect on my cardiac system.

“Seriously, why are you even with him, Tatum? You never seem happy when you are.”

Well, that sure turned her smile upside down. It also caused her to glare back at me.

“Like you have room to talk, Noah. Why are you with Ryder? You sure as hell never look happy when you’re with her, either. You usually look irritated, actually.”

Touché.

“You’re right,” I shrug as I lean back in my chair. “We kind of have an agreement, so it is what it is, but it’s nice to know you’ve been watching.” I give her a quick wink and quickly direct my stare down to her gorgeous mouth, something I’ve been guilty of doing several times today, before looking back up at her eyes.

She tightens her gaze as she sits back in her own seat, crossing her arms over her chest as she reclines. “Well, you might want to explain that to
her
because I’m pretty sure she thinks otherwise. Like, she probably has the church booked and wedding magazines all over her apartment.”

Rubbing my chest, I reason to myself that the mention of marriage also seems to have an adverse effect on my cardiovascular. Or maybe that’s just the reference to Ryder?

We’re getting way off track here, so I scoot my seat underneath the table, closer to Tatum, and shift toward her while crooking my finger for her to lean in as well. Surprisingly, after a slight hesitation, she does. Shielding the side of my mouth with the back of my hand, I lower my voice to a whisper. “Let’s drop the Ryder topic for a second. It’s giving me heartburn. Let’s just concentrate on you for the time being. Her hardened mask breaks and she laughs even though I couldn’t be more serious.

“I’m going to give you a loser lesson. Let’s call it,
Loser 101: Introduction to All Things Loser
.” Another small smile crosses her lips, and damn if I don’t find myself once again momentarily distracted by her mouth.

Glancing back up, I look into her eyes and grin. “Okay, so number one. His name isn’t really Cash, you know this right? His name is
Herman
. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but if he’s not man enough to even stand behind the name his mother gave him, well?”

Tatum’s stare widens and she covers her mouth. “How did you know that?” she whispers back from behind her fingers. She looks like an adorable little girl with her huge blue eyes gaping back at me. It’s captivating. I burn the image into my memory bank before letting her in on my secret.

“I’m a bartender. I’ve seen his I.D. In fact, I make him show it to me every time he comes into the bar because it makes me laugh.”

She drops her hand, huge smile displayed. “You’re evil.”

“Yes, yes I am.” I hold up my pointer finger. “That’s number one. Number two…he’s what? Twenty- four? You know what I see every time he hands me that I.D. other than his name and age? His goddamn huge-ass senior ring … from high school. He really needs to learn to let go of what were probably the best years of his life and just move on. . If he still feels that his high school years are relevant — loser. Lesson number two.”

I count it on my fingers as I lean in even closer and whisper my final lesson in her ear. “The third one is the most important, so listen closely.” I take a discreet whiff of her hair before continuing. “You may not believe this but it’s the truth. You deserve to be treasured. You should be with someone who respects you, who makes you a better person, and most of all, who makes you happy. He, however, treats you poorly. I see it every single time I’m around the two of you, and I have to say it takes a lot of restraint on my part not to beat the shit out of him when I see it happen.” Leaning away from her, I hold up three fingers in front of her shocked-as-shit facial expression. “If he doesn’t respect you and treat you how you should be treated — loser. Lesson three.”

I clear my face of its smartass smirk so she understands that I’m completely serious. “Never settle for less than you’re worth. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Hopefully one day, you’ll see what everyone else sees.”

She graciously accepts my compliment with a half-smile and after sliding herself back into her chair, she studies me intently.

“Interesting lessons there, Noah. Thank you for the wise words. But as I clearly displayed last night, I have issues. Not everyone would take me back after what I did last night, but
he
did because he loves me. We all have our faults, and not everyone can be perfect like you. I hope you know that’s not meant to be an insult, so please, don’t take it that way. I just mean, some of us are flawed and have to deal with what we’re given.” She watches the waitress pick up the empty plates from our table. Once they’re cleared, she begins again, still gazing off in the distance.

 “Broken hopes and expectations can leave very, very broken people. So after a while, you learn not to aim so high because when people fail you, you land hard and there’s only so many times a person can be shattered before they’re beyond repair.”

She brings her eyes back to mine. “What you’re so quick to label as
settling
, I simply call survival,” she finishes with a defeated shrug of her shoulders.

After her statement, she casts her glance away to smile at the person passing by. Although as usual, it’s not genuine. It’s the same smile she plasters on her face to appease everyone around her.

What the
hell
happened to her?

The waitress conveniently drops the check off at our table, providing Tatum the perfect way out of this conversation, and therefore, any further interrogation. Standing, she pushes the chair out from underneath her with the backs of her knees. “Ready?” she asks, purse already in hand, stepping towards the direction of the register.

Well, I guess that’s all I’m getting from her for now. I know it’s not much, but I’ll take it.

It’s not like I can actually concentrate on asking her any more questions, because there’s one gigantic
conclusion I’ve just drawn that’s currently delaying any other thoughts from entering my mind.

A person who judges someone without really knowing them, without walking in their shoes, or without at least attempting to understand what they’ve gone through or experienced during their lifetime — loser.

Lesson number four.

Head throbbing as I roll over, I catch a glimpse of Cash’s slow rising chest. God, I drank a lot last night. I don’t even remember the second half of the evening. I remember drinking here before we headed out downtown. I remember taking those damn Jagerbomb shots, all four of them, but then — nothing. Glancing down, I take note of my naked body just under the sheets. Definitely don’t remember
that
.

Reaching over, I place my fingers lightly on Cash’s chest. Immediately, his arm swings in front of my face as he grabs my hand and hurls it away from his body. “Damn it, Tatum. Leave me alone. I have to get up in,” he lifts his head to check the time on his nightstand, “
five
minutes. You couldn’t let me sleep for five more goddamn minutes?” In a rage, he throws the sheets off, slides his boxers on and storms out of the room, slamming the bathroom door in the process.

What the hell is up with him? He’s been really agitated lately. Like,
really
agitated. And angry. He’s starting to scare me a little.

I roll onto my back and take in a deep breath. Well, at least I get to see the Morgan kids today. Every Saturday, I head over to Blake and Alex’s house to play with their three gorgeous little girls and their eight month old baby boy. I met the girls last year at Blake and Alex’s wedding reception and have seen them pretty much every weekend that I can. Alex lost her husband almost five years ago, and after raising the girls on her own for years by herself, she ran into Blake and fell immediately in love with him. At least that’s what he tells me.

I laugh to myself as I get out of the bed and throw on my robe. Those kids are pretty much the center of my universe. And Blake and Alex? They’re such an amazing couple, and even more so, truly phenomenal parents. I feel the corners of my mouth dip downward. They really have no idea how lucky they are to have each other.

After pouring a cup of coffee and taking a seat at the kitchen table, I hear the back door slam and the loud roar of Cash’s truck, followed by ear-splitting tire screeches, sending me a direct message. I shake my head and roll my eyes while exhaling deeply. I think I might have actually aimed too low with this one.

As I sip the warm, delicious heaven in my hands, I pull my legs up to place my heels directly on the seat of my chair while reclining backwards. With another deep breath, I reflect on the time I spent with Noah yesterday.

Even though it started off rocky, it ended nicely. Calmly. Warmly.

After our conversation at lunch, he distanced himself for a bit. He seemed deep in thought so I just left him alone for a while, but when I finished up the bathroom and approached him about where I needed to go next, he took one look at me and laughed. God, I love his laugh.

With a smile on his face, he took the tip of his index finger and ran it across my cheek. When he was done, it was completely covered with yellow. I guess I not only painted the bathroom, I took care of my face as well, but honestly, I didn’t really care. After opening up to him a little yesterday, I don’t know, I just feel comfortable with him. Being around him is actually tolerable, now that we’re not on a mission to kill each other. The rest of the day was easy-breezy.