Page 108 of Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia 4)

We arrived at Griffin’s a few minutes later. “Want to study here for a while?” Jude asked.

“Sure, why not,” I shrugged, grabbing my bag. If I didn’t study here, I’d study at home since I didn’t work today, and I really didn’t want to go home. My dad had come home the past few nights, and while he hadn’t said anything to me, his glances were chilling.

Jude and I ordered coffee and snacks. I found a quiet table in the back and sat down.

I pulled my computer and notes out, getting ready to study once more.

Study, study, study. That’s all I seemed to do lately. Graduation couldn’t come fast enough.

Jude appeared a few minutes later with our coffee and food. His grin was nearly infectious as he held the steaming cup of coffee out to me.

I grabbed my coffee from him and took a large gulp—not caring that I probably scalded my throat in the process. I need the caffeine too bad to care.

He chuckled and handed me a cupcake. I’d ordered a sandwich, so he’d added this.

I took the cupcake and devoured it like I’d never eat one again.

Caffeine and sugar? I was a happy camper…until I looked at my computer and realized I was nowhere near done with my papers or studying. It never ended. At this rate I’d be thirty before these papers were done and I only had five more days to finish them.

Jude leaned back in his chair, sipping slowly at his coffee. He appeared relaxed. I knew I should probably take a short break too, before delving in once more, but I didn’t feel like I had time for that.

Before I had time to start typing, Jude asked, “So…can I read your paper now?”

“Now?” I blanched. “As in right now? Where I have to watch you read it? Uh…” I’d thought maybe I could email it to him later. I wasn’t sure I could stomach watching him read the paper I’d so lovingly worked on. I was terrified that he’d think I hadn’t done the medical field justice and he’d hate it.

“Come on, Tater Tot,” his grin was boyish, “it’s not like I’m going to rip it apart and tell you it’s horrible. After a month of helping you, I’d like to see where all that note taking on your part went.”

I sighed, knowing no argument on my part would deter him, and brought up the correct word document on my computer. I turned my computer around to face him and slid it across the table.

My heart raced with nerves as his eyes scanned the screen. No one else had laid eyes on my paper yet, and since he was the one responsible, and the reason it took on a new direction, I thought I might pass out as he read it.

It was the longest five minutes of my life.

“Tate?” He slid my computer back across the table to me and a wrinkle marred his brow. My heart stopped and I bit down on my lip to the point that I tasted blood. He hated it. I knew it. “You know how you told me that you wanted to make a difference with something you wrote?” I nodded my head at his words. “I think you’ve done that with this,” he tapped the open lid of my computer. “Your essay is absolutely beautiful,” his brown eyes were warm. “Thank you for letting me be a part of this.”

Relief flooded my veins.

Oh thank God he didn’t hate it.

He had me really worried there for a minute.

“You really like it?” I asked, needing to hear him say it again.

“I love it, Tate. You couldn’t have written anything better.” His voice rang with sincerity.

I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in. “Thank you,” I whispered, smiling bashfully. I always got shy after someone read what I’d written. No matter what I wrote, each paper held a part of my soul. I invested so much of myself in it and always feared that it would be rejected. I understood that rejection was a fact of life, but it’s not always easy to handle when it comes to something so personal. “I’m really happy you love it, Jude.”

“You know,” he paused to take a sip of coffee, “I think you should print it off so I can take it to Mr. Jenkins. He asked me about you every time I saw him this week. He likes you and he’d want to read this.”

“I can do that,” I smiled, relaxing a bit and taking a bite of my sandwich—I probably should’ve saved my cupcake for after the sandwich, but my sweet tooth couldn’t wait. “I really need to see about volunteering after graduation so I can visit him.”

“Yes, you do,” Jude agreed, stifling a yawn. “Man,” he scrubbed his hands over his face, “I’m so exhausted I feel like I’m starting to see things.”

“I know what you mean,” I agreed.

“No, seriously, that guy looks exactly like your dad, but—”

I whipped around in my seat to see my dad sitting at one of the tables, chatting with some woman who looked like she was barely thirty years old. He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. I cringed, bile rising in my throat. I turned back around before he could see me. “Yeah, that’s my dad.”

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