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“So, you played captive to humor me?”
“I enjoyed watching you take control, so yeah.”
Well…damn. “I need to invest in cuffs.”
I look down at Tate. For once, his face isn’t void of emotion. He looks at ease. Relaxed. Butterflies flutter inside my belly at the thought that it’s because of me.
And because of him, I now know what to do if someone ever tries to attack me in the shower, on the kitchen counter, or in my bed.
Any more lessons have been put on hold. I’m spent. The look on his face says he is too.
“What are you doing about feeding me?”
“Feeding you? You just yelled at me for letting you eat tacos.”
“No, I yelled at you for letting me eattoo manytacos. But since you helped me work them off, I forgive you. And since it’s your job to make sure I’m safe and happy, we’re getting takeout.”
“Happy, huh?”
There’s an underlying question in his tone, asking if he’s making me happy. And dammit, he is. “Feed me and find out.”
“Got it, babe.” I don’t reprimand him for calling me babe. Truth be told, I kind of like it. And since he’s loyal to his work, he gets up and orders us a plethora of Chinese, my second favorite.
***
We’re on the couch, containers of Chinese food covering my coffee table. I’m lying down with my legs sprawled over Tate’s lap while we binge the current season of Housewives.
“Tate?” He squeezes my foot, not taking his eyes off the show. I may have created a reality TV addict. “What made you want to enlist in the military?”
That gets his attention. “I didn’t have many options. It was either that or serve my full sentence.”
Hold up—what? Are we referring to grammar or a form of punishment?When he doesn’t continue, I ask, “Are you going to elaborate?”
“I killed a man.”
Also was not expecting him to say that.I debate dropping the subject but can’t help but blurt out, “Did they deserve it?”
“No.”
I pull my feet back and sit up. “These one-word replies aren’t working for me. I could sit here and come up with all kinds of scenarios on my own, but we’re not doing that. Just come out with it. What’s your story?”
He runs his hand over his mouth and down his chin before settling back into the couch. “When I was eighteen, I was leaving a party with my girlfriend. It was some senior bash in the middle of the woods. It was late, and I was tired and pissed.”
“Why were you mad?”
“I didn’t even want to go, but she begged me. Said people would start talking if she showed up alone. Not that my being there mattered. I was DD and spent most of the night sitting at the bonfire while she got shitfaced. She was all over the place, hangin’ on people and running off with her girlfriends and who knows who else. At close to midnight, I’d had enough. I told her I was leaving, and we got into a huge fight. She had my keys in her purse and ran to the truck, jumping into the driver’s seat. I was lucky enough to snag the passenger side door and jump in before she took off.” He pauses for a moment, and my chest tightens. I can only assume this story doesn’t have a happy ending. “She took off, driving like a maniac. I told her to pull over. She wouldn’t. She was crying, yelling at me, barely watching the road. I tried to help her steer, but she just got more upset. Neither of us saw the man in the road until it was too late.”
“Oh my god.” I press my fingers against my parted lips.
“I got her to pull over and tore out of the truck. It took me a minute to find him because his body had been thrown into the woods from the impact. I leaned down, attempting to check for a pulse, but his neck was at an odd angle, his face was covered in blood, and he wasn’t breathing. It was dark, and I couldn’t see much, but I could see that. When I got back to the truck, Jacie was in shock. She had her whole life ahead of her, and I was just a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, so I did what I thought was right. I told her to move to the passenger side, and I got behind the wheel. We called nine-one-one, and when they arrived, I said I’d been the one driving.”
“Tate—”
“They charged me with involuntary manslaughter, and since I was eighteen, juvie wasn’t an option. I was sentenced to ten years with the option of parole after four. At my parole hearing, my public defender highlighted my good behavior during the time I’d already served. Mentioned my plans to enlist in the military and serve my country if I was released early. And that’s exactly what I did. The day I got out, I enlisted, completed my training, and served two fifteen-month tours in Iraq. Stayed a few extra months for voluntary work. After I was discharged, I got out, and a buddy got me in contact with a guy who runs a law firm and has a side business hiring private investigators and protection details. The end.”
“And Jacie?”
“Went off to college. Last I checked, she’s married and has some kids.”
