Tempting Tatum (34 page)

“The real reason my husband left me is because he found out that she’s not his.” She strokes her daughter’s hair. “Blaise was coming around to the idea of being a dad until you came into the picture. Now he wants nothing to do with either of us,” she says. Her eyes find mine. “Please for my daughter, walk away.” Her voice is not mean, or hateful; she sounds…sincere.

Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here. I don’t reply. I push my cart to the check out and, luckily, there is no line. I quickly pay for my items and rush to my car. Once inside, the tears escape like a waterfall running over my cheeks. I need to get out of here. I don’t want her to see that she got to me. I can’t let her see my heart breaking. I buckle my seatbelt and slowly drive away. I drive to the apartment, grateful that I don’t see Ember’s car in the lot.

I load up the groceries and make my way inside. I sit the bags down on the counter and begin putting them away. My mind is a jumbled mess. I need time to process all of this. I don’t know what to believe; I just don’t know. My insecurities from my past are taking control and I hate that. I hate that I doubt him even a little, but she was so…sincere. If she was being mean and nasty it would be easier to think she’s just trying to split us up. But when she asked me to walk away, her voice was defeated.

Suddenly, it hits me. I need time away from it all to figure it all out. I pick up my phone and dial Harry.

“Hey, Harry. It’s Tatum. I have a few things to sort out with the house and storage before the closing. I thought I would head back to Ohio tomorrow and get that all squared away. Would that be all right? I’ll just take the rest of the week as vacation and return to the office on Monday?” I ask. I’m trying to keep the sadness and desperation out of my voice, but I know he can tell how emotional I am.

“Sure, Tatum. Take all the time you need; just don’t get any ideas about moving back there. We need you to come back home to us,” he says in his fatherly voice. This causes my tears to return. He and his wife have been so good to me.

“Thanks, Harry. I’ll be back on Monday,” I tell him and we say our goodbyes.

I hit end on my phone and place it on the counter. I need to pack and get out of here. I’ll call Leah on my way to let her know what’s going on. I run to my room and fill a suitcase with enough clothes for the next few days. I pack my essentials into a separate travel case. I slip my cell charger into my laptop case and call it good. I can stay at the house. I turn off the light and head out the door, silently praying that no one sees me and tries to stop me before I make it out of town.

Car loaded, I strap myself in and type out a quick text to Ember.

Me:
Sold parents’ house. Headed to Ohio to square everything way. Will be back this weekend.

After reading it three times, I hit send. I immediately dial Leah, but she doesn’t answer. I leave her a message. “Hey, Leah, it’s me.” I choke back tears. “Everything is so screwed up. I ran into Beth and she had her little girl with her. She said she really is Blaise’s. I’m so confused and torn. Did I jump into this too soon? I’ve only known him a few months, maybe he’s lying to me. Look at what Josh did.” I pause as a sob breaks from my chest. “I’m on my way back to Columbus. I sold the house, so I’m going to spend a few days there before the closing on Thursday. I’ll be home this weekend. Call me if you get time. I just need my best friend,” I say as I can no longer control the sobs. I hit end and place my phone in the cup holder.

I hear a ding and look down to see my car telling me I have a “Low Fuel Level”. Great, I’m not even ten miles out of town. I merge lanes and signal to get off at the next exit. I stop at the traffic light at the end of the exit ramp, waiting to turn left. I watch the light. The light turns green and I watch as the car in front of me starts to move. I follow the line of traffic.

I hear screeching tires and the impact of a hit to my car. My car spins and flips until it finally lands. My heart is racing and my entire body is shaking. I feel slicing pain in my head. I place my palm against my forehead and feel wetness. Pulling back, my hand is covered in blood. That’s the last thing I remember before darkness claims me.

The accident took longer than usual. There was a lot of glass on the road. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured. Once we’re back at the firehouse, I strip down and hit the shower. I rush through the process so I can call Tatum. I’m excited to talk to her about my discussion with Dad earlier today. I want her to know I want everything with her, all of it.

Pulling my shirt over my head, jeans still unbuttoned, I reach for my phone to call her. The other guys in the locker room are watching with fascination. This is another first for me. I always used to let them come to me, even Beth. Not Tate. Never with Tate. Her phone goes straight to voicemail which is odd. I hit end and finish getting dressed just as the alarm sounds. We have another run; it’s another accident.

I follow the guys back to the truck where we suit up. I quickly type a text to Tatum.

Me:
Hey. I tried to call, got voicemail. Finished with run, off to another. Will call when I can. Love you! B

“Brace yourself, fellas; apparently, this is a bad one. White female early twenties, t-boned by a drunk driver,” Jeffers says from the front seat. He’s got his phone to his ear talking to dispatch who also happens to be his sister.

No one says anything, because, really, what is there to say? It’s a shitty fucking deal. My guess is ten-to-one the drunk driver walks away with barely a scratch. This is part of the job I hate. I hate the tragedy. The part where you watch as family members are told their loved ones either might not make it or didn’t make it at all. This is the hard part.

We arrive at scene and park the truck. The internal radio beeps and my dad’s voice fills the airways. “Tell Blaise to stay back. I need to talk to him,” he says. His voice is hard. My stomach drops. Something’s wrong.

Tatum.

I couldn’t get ahold of her. I thought it was odd her phone went to voicemail, but…no, it can’t be her. My breathing is accelerated. I can feel the panic start to set in. I reach for the handle of the truck and Asher is there.

“Let me out, Ash,” I say, venom in my voice.

“Bro, you need to take a breath. Dad just needs to talk to you,” he says calmly. His calm demeanor does nothing to calm my nerves. He is my twin brother after all; I can read him better than anyone. He’s not a blubbering mess and neither is Dad. That’s when I know for sure, it’s her. My girl. I have to get to her.

I place my hand on the door handle and use my shoulder to push with all of my might against the door. Asher stumbles back. I jump out of the truck, and before I take two steps, he has me tackled to the ground. I feel a strong grip on my shoulder, looking up I see it’s Dad.

“I need to go to her,” I plead with him.

His eyes, glassy with tears, bore into mine. “Son, you need to calm down first. I need to prepare you,” he tells me.

“Fuck that! Dad, you know! You know I need her; she’s my one. I need to go to her. Dammit, let me go!” I yell at them.

Asher tightens his grip on my arm, while Dad holds the other. “Listen to me, Blaise, the accident was bad. I need you to let us do our jobs. Let us get her out of the car and assess her injuries. You have to stay back and let us work on her. You have to stand down until we know what we’re dealing with,” my father says, his voice cracking.

Fuck this! My future, my heart, is in that car. She’s got to be scared. I need her to know I’m here, dammit. I twist my elbow into Asher’s gut causing him to loosen his grip. I then tear my arms from Dad’s grip and I’m running.

Running to her.

To my Tatum.

Just as I get close enough to see the car, two of my fellow crew members who happen to be the same size as me, step into my path. “Let us work, my man. You need to stand down,” one of them tells me. I can see in his eyes that it’s bad.

I feel the pain slice through my heart at the thought of her in any pain, at the mere thought of losing her.

“Tatum,” I scream her name. “I’m here, baby,” I croak out. My vision blurs and the tightness in my chest makes it hard to breathe. I can hear my name being called, but all I can do is stand there, my arms restrained by my crew as I watch the jaws-of-life prepare to remove my heart from the jumbled mess that is Tatum’s car.

I drop to my knees as I hear the first sound of grinding metal. I feel a hand on my shoulder, then a voice, it’s Asher. “Blaise, you have to stay strong for her. She needs you to fight. She needs you, brother,” he says as he drops to his knees beside me. I feel his arm go around my shoulders and he squeezes. I don’t even try to hide the tears that are coursing down my cheeks.

I feel a presence beside me, but I don’t take my eyes from the car. I need to see her. I need to make sure she’s okay. A hand lands on my shoulder, a firm grip. Dad.

I hear him say Mom is calling Brent so he can notify Leah. I should be the one to handle that call, but I can’t. I can’t move from this spot without seeing if she’s okay.

I can’t breathe without her.

After what seems like hours, when in reality it’s not more than a couple of minutes, the paramedics are ready to extract Tatum from the car. I jump to my feet. I need to see her as soon as she’s out. From the angle I’m standing, all I can see is what a totaled mess her car is.

I watch as they carefully lift her limp body from the car and place her on the stretcher. I take a step and feel my arms being pulled back from both sides.

“Please, let me go to her,” I beg my father and Asher.

“Son, let them take care of her. They need to asses her injuries,” Dad says calmly.

I know he’s right, but I don’t like it. I stand on the side of the road watching as they work on her. Her face is covered in blood and I feel my knees weaken at the sight. Oh, God, please save her. Please don’t take her way from me, I plead.

Finally, they start wheeling the stretcher toward the ambulance. I twist out of the hold they have on me and I’m beside her in no time. I reach for her hand, but stop myself before I touch her. Her body is limp; she looks so small and frail.

“Sir, you need to step back.” This from the ambulance driver. He’s from the next town over. Our crew is working on the drunk driver.

“She’s my fiancée,” I tell him.

He nods his head in understanding. “You can ride as long as you stay out of the way. I won’t hesitate to stop this rig and kick your ass to the curb,” he tells me.

At this point, I would agree to anything just to be with her. I nod my head in agreement and climb in the back of the squad. I sit next to the stretcher and reach for her hand.

“Sorry, sir, but you can’t touch her. Not yet. We don’t know the extent of her injuries.”

I slowly pull my hand away. I can actually feel my heart breaking at the sight of her. My girl, battered and broken. I close my eyes and send another prayer to keep her safe, to help her pull through this.

Once we arrive at the hospital, she is whisked away and I’m told to stop at the registration desk to give them all of her information. As I approach the desk, I hear my name. I look up to see Leah, Brent, Ember, Jackson, Asher, Grace, and my parents. I choke back the sob that threatens to break free.

“How is she?” Leah asks me.

I shake my head no. “She’s still unconscious. They said I have to register her first,” I say.

“I’ll go with you,” she says as she links her arm through mine and we walk the remaining short distance to the registration desk.

We go through the process of registration and are told to go back to the waiting room and someone will be out to update us as soon as they know more.

Waiting, I fucking suck at waiting.

We reach the waiting room. Leah takes a seat by Brent while I pace back and forth. I can’t sit. I need to know how she is. I continue to pace. They all try to get me to sit, but I can’t. I have to keep moving. This goes on for an hour before we hear the door open and a man in dark blue scrubs enters the room.