Page 43 of Only You
I make sure my teachers at the school are vigilant. That they’re always paying attention. And that they report anything at all that seems off.
“I worry about passing on some of my…” He looks thoughtful, like he wants to say the right thing here. “Vices?”
I nod my head, knowing he’s talking about addiction. We’ve discussed it briefly, I get the sense it’s something he’s ashamed of, but I don’t want him to be. To me, it’s just part of him. Something he deals with on a regular basis. A demon he fights and fights well because since we’ve come back in contact, I haven’t seen him slip once. But if he did, it wouldn’t turn me off. I’d do everything I could to help him with it.
I don’t see it as a weakness. “There are so many pieces to you, Tatum.” I say honestly, looking into his beautiful, soulful eyes. “That’s just one of them.”
“It’s a pretty big one.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” I ask carefully.
“You know my mom is an addict. Was my whole life and then…like a dumbass, I didn’t stay away from it. Mostly alcohol. But other things too.”
I nod, listening and hopefully it doesn’t come off as judgement. I feel no judgement with Tatum. Just awe. “We didn’t exactly have the best role models and life wasn’t easy. I don’t blame you for trying to find something to numb it all.”
“Did you?” He looks terrified of my answer.
I lick my dry lips and shake my head, “No, but I thought about it. Many times. I wanted to quiet all the thoughts and the noise. I thought maybe it could make it go away.”
His head bob grimly, “Yeah. It doesn’t work for long.”
“That’s what you were trying to do, right?”
“Yeah.” He holds me closer to him. Like he needs to touch me and I’m more than okay with that. “I had drank a little in high school. I thought I had control of it, but then…”
My heart sinks because I know what the then is and I try to quell the nausea that comes with the guilt. He doesn’t need to see that right now. “I pushed you away.”
“It was my choice, Remy. And I would have gotten hooked no matter what. It’s in my blood.”
I turn my body enough to cup his jaw in my hand and look into his eyes, “There are so many things in your blood, Tatum. You are good. I know that maybe you don’t see it, but I do. You love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. And if we do have kids someday, I hope to hell they have so many parts of you.”
“We’ll make sure they’re okay. We made it. We can make sure they do too.”
I smile brightly at that, briefly brushing my lips over his because I can’t resist. “We did.”
“It’s something I have to fight every day you know. I might slip.” He says it like a quiet warning. Like maybe it’ll scare me away.
“I’m not worried.” I tell him honestly. “I know you’ll always come back to me. And we all have our struggles, Tatum.”
That seems to settle him and I snuggle further into his side to get comfortable before he speaks softly again, his hand dragging gently over my arm. “Do you ever see your mom?” Tatum is the only one who actually knows about my mother. She was way too young when she had me. She wasn’t an addict like Tatum’s mom. Not really. She was just way too young and wasn’t ready for a kid. She wanted to date and flirt and party. She didn’t want to be tied down at sixteen. So she left me with whoever would watch me, and one day the cops found me wandering around the streets of our block in pajamas in the middle of winter with no coat. That started our bout with social services.
And it didn’t end until I finally finished high school and got myself emancipated. “No,” I say, trying not to think about my mom. I haven’t seen her since I found her working at a diner,pretty damn close to the house I was staying in, and she acted like she didn’t know me. “What about you?”
“Saw her a few years ago.” His voice is tight, and his tone dark, so I already know it didn’t go well. “She was a mess. Tried to pretend like she wasn’t using, but it was obvious. I knew I couldn’t be around her and stay clean.”
I nod my head knowingly. “I’m sorry.”
He just smiles easily, in that sweet Tatum way I’m becoming even more addicted to by the day.
“I could get really used to this, Tatum,” I say honestly, the admission terrifying me. “It feels so nice,” I say, snuggling into the crook of his neck, where honestly, I think I could live for the next fifty or sixty years.
“I’m already used to it, Remy. And if we do have kids someday, we won’t be like them.”
I lick my lips, my throat feeling dry as I think about my mother and how indifferent she always seemed to me. “You promise?”
“I do.” He says it so effortlessly, most people would probably think he’s lying—or that it’s false bravado. But it’s not. He really believes it. He hugs me even closer. “And I’m used to this. I fucking love this with you. Every moment of it, but I’m terrified of losing it.”
A big, incredibly strong man like Tatum admitting he’s scared isn’t lost on me. “You won’t lose me.” I look up and into his eyes. “Please don’t worry about that. I’m not going to push you away ever again.”
