Page 11 of Insatiable

“Tatum!”

“Tay!”

All three of them say my name at the same time. They all stop at the bottom of the three sets of stairs, their eyes are wide, and mouths agape looking at me in concern. Cace is the first to rush to me and I hold my hand out to stop him.

“What happened, Tate? Were you dizzy? Was it your vision?” He throws out his questions, cupping my face between his hands as he searches my eyes. I want to push him away and tell him I can pick myself up off the stairs. I’m already feeling some kind of way about them seeing me like this. I am not a damsel in distress.

“Cace, can you give me some space please?” I ask, my face still cradled in his hands. I can see the hurt flash across his face before it’s replaced by his professional doctor persona before I can feel bad about my request.

“I just want to make sure this fall doesn’t have anything to do with your head, Tate. I’m sorry.” He steps backwards down the steps to give me room, and damn me if I don’t feel like an ass for making him go.

“Tatum, we want to—”

“Stop. I slipped. It’s not the first time and I am sure it won’t be the last.” I turn my anger on Sean not wanting to hear his sincerity.

“Tatter—”

“Fine, Jay! My hand couldn’t grip the damn banister. I tried to hold on to it, my hand was shaking so bad I lost purchase and went flying. Am I fine physically? Yes. My butt hurts but my pride hurts worse. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

I look away because I don’t want to see the hurt in those beautiful eyes of Jay’s. I don’t look up. The sound of my items being picked up and footsteps is all I hear until my bag is placed beside me.

“We can talk to your Physio about this when we go to your appointment. I won’t offer to help you up, okay. When you’re ready I will be in the car, and I will get you to Dr. Schaffer.” Cace doesn’t wait for me to reply and walks back down the stairs.

I know that I need to be here. It makes sense. I know that they want to help me and a part of me is grateful. But, in the dark recesses of my mind I hate that I’m this vulnerable, and I want to run and hide. After all this time I’m not the same Tate they knew. How can they confess they love me? Me! With a shaved head, scars, and a nerve damaged hand. I’ve lost so much so fast. I am more trouble than I’m worth.

Picking myself up off the stairs slowly, I walk down. Jay is typing furiously on his laptop and Sean is outside on his phone on the back deck. I don’t say goodbye and I walk past them and leave. Once outside, I climb into the backseat of Cace’s SUV, and I am quiet for the rest of the day. I feel embarrassed and ashamed of my behavior. It’s just another reason why I shouldn’t be here with them. They deserve better.

SEAN

I’m a light sleeper. When I was married my wife always found me up in the wee hours of the night wide awake because something always managed to disturb my sleep. I realize in hindsight I could never settle with her lying beside me. That should have been a recognizable sign from God that we weren’t meant to be.

My room is positioned on the floor below Tate’s. Cace’s room is on the ground floor and Jay’s room is on the top floor. We thought it would be better to keep her between us just in case she needs one of us during the night. Cace had warned us about her nightmares, and so far, she’s managed not to have any. Well, you can’t have nightmares if you're staying up so late you pass out at the break of dawn.

Tate is awake and so am I. She clings to her Kindle like it’s a lifeline, getting lost in her Supernatural stories of multiple men from fantasy lands. Anything to stay awake. Some nights I can hear the soft sounds of her music through the walls. Jay sleeps like the dead so he never hears anything.

I want to go up and talk to her like we used to. I would leave my dorm room in the middle of the night, walk a few doors down and knock on her door. No matter what the time of night was or if she was asleep, she would welcome me in no matter what. It was our thing. I missed the way we used to be more than I ever realized.

During the day she is slowly opening to us. Her physio and psychiatry visits are helping her to heal slowly. She is even coming out of her room more. Cace calls it a win, Jay pouts because she still isn’t talking to us, and I stare up at the ceiling all night. Eventually, I manage to close my eyes as the house grows quiet around me.

Suddenly, the silence of the night is destroyed by the sound of her scream. It's a sound I wish I never had to hear. Scrambling from my bed, I curse having to take the time to untangle myself from my sheets that I managed to drag halfway across the floor. I open the door. Tate screams again, the sound is muffled behind her closed door. I look up and down from the first to the top floor and it appears that I am the only one to hear her. Taking the steps two at a time I don’t pause to knock as I walk straight into her room. Tate is writhing in her rumpled sheets as my feet carry me towards the bed. I don’t care if she gets upset with me. I won’t let her suffer through this alone. The bed dips as I climb in beside her, barely missing a flailing arm. I pull her into my arms and hold her tight.

“Tate,” I say her name softly, and her panicked thrashing grows wilder. Belatedly, I realize my mistake and I let her go. She probably thinks she’s being confined. I pull away from her and leave a little distance between us. Tears run down her cheeks as the screaming stops, she whimpers in her sleep, and I am destroyed by the sight. I reach out to stroke her face as I lay on my side facing her, but I hesitate.

“Tatum,” choosing to say her nickname so I don’t scare her any further. I hope that it gives her a sense of comfort and a form of familiarity as she wakes up. I lay my hand on her shoulder.

“Tatum, baby girl, wake up for me please,” I say gently, giving her body a little nudge. Tate’s eyes fly open, and she scrambles away from me to the opposite side of the bed. Blinking rapidly, her eyes adjust, she rubs her chest slowly as if to soothe herself, taking deep breaths.

“Sean, what are you doing in here?” She moves closer to me and that eases my own mind. I almost thought she was afraid of me—that would have killed me if she was.

“You were screaming. I’m a light sleeper, remember.” I shrug, feeling a bit silly now that she’s looking at me like I’ve invaded her privacy. I have to remember how vulnerable she must be feeling, so I push my own feelings to the side for her. When she doesn’t say anything, I nod my head in understanding. I should leave.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I am sorry for barging in, but I didn’t think knocking would wake you.” I slide out of her bed, feeling dejected. I realize in that moment in my own way I am just as fragile as she is. As I reach the doorway, I grab the doorknob and go to close the door behind me.

“Sean.” I swing the door open again at the sound of my name and step back into the room. “Are you okay? Do you need to talk?” To say I am shocked she asked me that is an understatement. This isn’t about me—it’s supposed to be about her.

“I should be asking you that,” I respond, taking a step closer to the bed.

“I know you’re a light sleeper. I don’t normally fall asleep this early, but I must be really tired.” she says, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her white fluffy comforter around her body.