Page 16 of Only You
“You deserve good too. You have to know that. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
“I’ve hurt him. He’s good, really damn good. He always has been, but I know he’s holding back with me because of how badly I hurt him. I should just walk away, Kellan, but I can’t.”
“Don’t,” he says it so effortlessly. “Don’t run away from him. If all this is, is friendship that’s fine.” I want to argue with that cryptic statement, but he goes on before I can. “If it’s more than that, then that’s fine too.” Again, I open my mouth for rebuttal, but he plows ahead. “But don’t run. I think there’s a reason he made his way back into your life and vice versa. I think you need to spend more time with him. Forgive yourself for when you were akid.”
“He was a kid too.”
“Yeah, and it sounds likehepushedyouaway.”
“For good reason,” I say defensively, my stomach clenching, thinking about how hard I pushed him to tell me everything. To let me fix it for him—like it was something I could actually fix. All I did was cause him more pain.
He sighs deeply at that, his hand still on my shoulder. “Just give it a chance, Tatum.”
He drops his hand and walks away, leaving me with that final sentence that settles deep inside my belly.
And it sits there throughout the rest of the day, and it’s still there when I arrive at Remy’s house. Still in the back of my mind, I don’t know if I can do this. Every instinct I have is shouting at me to stay away from him—that I may do so much more harm than good being around him again—but I can’t seem to listen.
I can’t stay away.
Instead, I get out of my truck and walk up to the front door, a little hop in my step, just thinking about getting to see Remy.
And when he opens the door, his smile bright and beautiful—with that tiny hint of pain trying to hide away in his eyes, I know I’m not going to.
SEVEN
I can’t get over how good Tatum looks. I need to get over that—for obvious reasons—but I can’t seem to.
His relaxed smile when I answer the door, and his confident glide into my house when I step out of the way and welcome him inside—it’s all too easy. It feels too good.
I never stopped thinking about him, no matter how hard I tried to, and now he’s here. In my home. It kind of blows my mind every time I see him.
The pasta dish I’m baking for dinner is still in the oven and has about a half hour left, so we settle into my living room on my couch as we wait. It’s quiet, but not uncomfortably so.
“So how was your hookup?” Tatum asks, his voice sounding loud in the otherwise totally quiet room. It startles me a little, especially when I look at him and see something in his eyes I can’t decipher.Is he angry? Judging me?I can’t tell.
“It was fine,” I say, though I kind of squirm a little in my seat, my cheeks heating a little bit at Tatum asking me about a random hookup I had last night. One that actually wasn’t all that satisfying and left me feeling a little adrift, if I’m being honest.
One I don’t want to think about because it wasn’t even really a blip on my day. Without a doubt—the best part of my day yesterday was my lunch with Tatum, and I don’t really want to even think about how messed up that is.
“Just fine?” he prods, and I look at him, trying to decide what he’s actually asking me. Or why? Is he being oddly polite and wanting to just ask about the rest of my day yesterday? Or is he actually asking about the quality of the hookup?
This is new territory. We’re barely even friends.Right?I mean, I don’t know what the hell we are. It’s confusing. That much I know.
“What are you asking me, Tatum?” I decide being blunt is probably for the best. He’s never had a problem just saying what’s on his mind, so why should I?
He just shrugs his big shoulders, leaning back into the couch and stretching his long legs out in front of him. “It just seems like a hookup should never be described as fine—or maybe it’s not worth doing.”
“Itwasfine. I got what I went for.”Mostly. Kind of. Not really. But I don’t think I need to go into it. He grimaces though, his face twisting into total discomfort, and my hackles rise. “Wait, did you just ask me about my hookup and then... Are you disgusted because it’s two men?”
“What?” His eyes widen in surprise. “No. Not at all.”
“Then why do you look a little sick?”
“It’s not at all that it’s two guys.” He motions toward me, his hands moving almost frantically, which would be comical if I wasn’t on my way to being pissed. “My best friend is with a man, remember? You met him.”
My lips are still pressed in a firm line, trying to hear him out but still a little irritated because I’m convinced I saw a look of disgust on his face. “Then why the grossed-out look?”
“It wasn’t a grossed-out look. It was...” He shifts in his seat, sitting up a little taller. “I just don’t like the thought of someone using you. And I know I probably don’t even have that right yet, but I just don’t like it.”
