Tatum

I am pissed.

Angry doesn’t begin to describe how I felt when I saw Sam’s name flashing on my phone again this morning.

My phone started ringing about five minutes after Dean and I left the store the other night. He’s been calling nonstop since. This pent-up brimming anger I feel toward him shadowed me all the way home. It’s growing stronger every time it rings. An uproar has broken out inside of me and trembles my bones. It won’t stop, no matter how hard I try to lasso it to a halt.

A part of me is desperate to know why he’s suddenly calling me when my life is finally heading in a good direction. He obliterated me. Stole something I didn’t think I would get back. My will to trust.

When trust is broken and devious lies are told, it’s hard for people to use the word lightly. Trust is the foundation to all things. The single emotion is connected to every other one inside of us. It creates peace within our hearts, but it can also destroy us in the worst possible way.

The sentiment doesn’t come easy for me, and as Dean clearly stated, it doesn’t for him either. This bond we share is inexplicable. Two people lost in a world of cruelty have formed a friendship that hopefully leads to the best thing that could happen to both of us. The threat of Sam waltzing back into my life and destroying what Dean and I are building is something I won’t allow.  

It’s silly to feel the way I do after spending little time with the man. It can’t be helped. I feel a connection with him much deeper than what I felt the day he saved me, and now Sam surfaces and could destroy my life all over again.

“Thank you for shopping at Sensual Chocolates. Have a great day,” I repeat the mantra I say to every customer. Except this one I send off with a tinge of jealousy. It’s her husband’s birthday, and she’s surprising him by buying a vibrator.

I exhale the jealousy out of me and turn toward the counter to stare at my phone. Sam didn’t leave a voicemail. I wouldn’t call him back even if he had. He can fuck off for all I care. It’s not his voice I want to hear anyway. It’s Dean’s.

For starters, I’m concerned about him. It’s the way he told me when he called a bit ago to tell me he was staying in with Miles tonight that has me wondering what’s going on. It’s clear he’s worried about him. I am, too, and I don’t even know him, but it’s not my place to pry.

Addiction is an awful thing. I hate that they are all dealing with it.

I’ve been swinging my uncertainties about Dean holding a secret back and forth since the incident with Miles and Leila. I came to the conclusion he’s holding this secret sacred. Guarding it close to his heart.

It all poured out of him with the intense sense of protection he possesses for not only Leila but for Miles, too. He’s a protector by nature. But there’s something else he’s hiding. My intuition tells me that it is connected to why Sam is calling me. “Bastard. You're either having someone follow him or me, aren’t you?”

I get Dean’s protective of his daughter. I am, too, and I’ve only known her a few weeks. But the way Dean tried to keep his anger toward Miles contained wasn’t as clearly hidden from me as he wanted it to be.

Dean is keeping secrets he’s struggling with. I’m sure very few people know about them. I’d bet my life it’s the one Sam tried to find out, and he thinks I’ll help.

God, it’s crazy how it’s only taken a few weeks for me to care deeply, to feel the loss that has to be eating them all up inside. I want to protect them, and I will. I’ll do it no matter what it costs me.

Tears well in my eyes. The room swirls and I keep hold of the doorknob in order to steady myself. The more time I spend with Dean, the more he sinks into my skin. In a way, I’m thankful he abruptly stopped that night. He’s left my body humming in anticipation. As silly as this may be, we are going to explode when we come together. I would love nothing more than to draw out the angst and sexual tension until neither one of us can take it anymore.

I loved the way Dean looked at me. The way his ass felt good in my hands and his stiff cock pressing against my core when he kissed me good-bye. I wanted to touch him everywhere. His face, his hands, his long hair. I craved his tongue between my legs and my mouth on his cock, his chest, those damn nipple rings that are going to drive me mad until I tug at them.

His warmth seeped into my being, and he comforted me with every indescribable touch. I felt as if I belonged to him all along, as he belonged to me. And each time he kissed me, I didn’t want to come up for air.

“Daniel, you need to decide what you want for getting all A’s on your report card. This nice lady would like to close and go home. Plus, we need to get you to soccer practice.” I bring my hand to my chest when I hear the customer I forgot about shower her child with praise kindly yet sternly.

“These were my favorites when I was growing up. My mom used to let my sister and me have one whenever we did something good in school.” I rotate toward the small display of candy bars I keep by the door and run my fingers across the crinkly wrappers of the Twix bars. “There’s two inside of here instead of one.” I grab one out of the box, squat to his level, and run my fingers down the middle to separate the two bars. His innocent young smile lightens my mood. I suddenly wonder if Dean would want another child. I’ve always wanted children. After what happened, I didn’t think it was part of life’s plan for me. I’m jumping the gun; with where I feel this might be going, though, I can’t help but let it surface.

“Okay. I’ll take this one, Mommy.” I hand him the bar, look up to his mother, who mouths a silent thank you, and deny their money when she tries to pay me. The excited look on his face is payment enough.

“You keep getting all A’s and practice really hard at soccer, and you can have one of those any time you want. Thank you for coming in.” His infectious smile doesn’t leave my face for the next hour as I sweep the floor, tidy up, and restock while I wait to close.

“I miss you, Mom,” I mutter when I place the broom back in the closet and stare into the corner where Erica and I used to huddle in a fit of giggles and hide. We'd never fit in there now. I can still remember us sneaking candy bars when Mom wasn’t looking. She always found us, and if we hadn’t eaten our candy, she made us put it back and sweep the floor; the worst punishment of all was pulling every candy bar out of their boxes and stocking them back in nice even little rows. I would cry and cry over it.

“Tatum.” The sound of my name in that familiar voice shoots icy shivers down my back, up my arms, and creates frostbite I had thawed away.

Clarity moves through the wits of my brain, prodding in the dark alcoves of my mind, ripping wide open every wound the man standing behind me inflicted. All the bits and pieces of scattered pain and dread of him destroying my faith in men tries to push its way to the top. I kick it down and stomp the shit out of it.

“What are you doing here, Sam?”

Fog swoops in and skirts a hazy mist in my mind. His footsteps are heavy, his touch to my shoulder unwelcome, making me cringe. I hate this rotten man more now than ever.

“I flew in last night. I have several engagements over the next few weeks. Wanted to see how you were. Catch up. I’ve missed you.” Sure, he has. His carefully constructed web of lies is going to keep building until he can’t find his way out.

“Well, now that you’ve seen how well I’m doing, you can leave, ditch my phone number, and never step foot in my store again.” I move around him to stand behind the counter, and while doing so, make the mistake of lifting my head and looking into his eyes.

He looks good. Unfettered and untouched by the hurt he created. It’s too bad he’s an ugly creature with fangs on the inside. A desperate man who is looking to score the one big story that will shoot him above the rest. I might have stood by and let him do his work before, but I won’t do so again. Not when it involves people I care about.

“Jesus, Tatum, you're looking at me as if I’m a stranger. Worse than a stranger. You look as if I’m going to hurt you instead of the man you loved for so long. I’m not your enemy. Baby, I never wanted to hurt you. The idea of getting my dream job took over. The fear of losing you was why I didn’t tell you. I should have. It broke us. I’ve kept my distance all these years wondering if you’d come back to me. We can start over, Tatum. There has to be a way to find a portion of the love we shared. You haven’t changed a bit. Still as gorgeous as ever. We spent years together. I miss the person you were to me. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry.” Oh yes, let’s just pick up right where we left off.

My cheeks burn as if he bitched-slapped me. “Do you hear yourself right now? Why in the ever-loving hell would I come back to a man like you? I gave you years of my life that led me to nothing. You are a stranger to me. One who makes me sick. How is the dream job, by the way?” God, hearing him talk has me wanting to lift my leg and kick my own ass for thinking I could spend the rest of my life with a man like him. I actually feel sick.

“Baby, you don’t mean that. Come on, let's go somewhere and talk.” My stomach coils tightly in disgust at hearing the endearment he used to call me.

“Don’t you call me that again. You’re sorry that you hurt me? Is that what I heard? You have no idea what you did to me, Sam. Not a fucking clue, because instead of staying here and trying to pick up the pieces of me that you crushed, you got in your car and left. Went to the cushy job you wanted. If you cared about me at all, we wouldn’t be having this conversation because you would have stayed away from me. The sight of you makes me ill. Don’t barge into my life after five years and expect a damn thing from me. I’ve moved on. You do not exist for me anymore. And thank God you took the job. I would have been a wretched mess being married to a man like you. A self-centered man who doesn’t know his own asshole from a hole in the ground,” I snap. “Get out and don’t come near me again, or you’ll be hurting worse than you ever dreamed about.”

I point my finger at the door when what I really want to do is jab his eyeballs. “I mean it, Sam. Go.” We’re locked in a stare down. I can’t believe this is happening. I would almost rather he spit out what he’s really here for instead of lying to me.

Misery sprints throughout me. Seeing him brings the truth of my life right before my very eyes. It curves toward me in a bundle that loops around my feet and threatens to knock me down. My life would have been profoundly miserable if I had married this manipulative man.

Shaking his head, he tilts it to the side. The warmth evaporating from his eyes.

“And the man you’re fucking now is so much better? You don’t know what you’re doing getting caught up in by seeing him. If you think I hurt you, his world will break you. Don’t make the mistake of striking back at me, Tatum. You’ll end up being the one crushed at the bottom. He’s hiding something from the police. Something to save his ass or someone else’s, and I’ll be Goddamned if I won’t find out what it is.”

Sam and I argued like any other couple. We disagreed all the time. The way he’s looking at me now, I only witnessed on his face when he would talk about Dean or other celebrities he would become obsessed with when he claimed they were hiding the one big story he needed to get his name to the top.

“Why in the hell would you think I’d date anyone to hurt you? Believe me, you are the furthest thing from my mind when I’m with a man. You won’t find what you're looking for here. Leave, or I’m calling the cops.” I reach for my phone, ignoring his vicious take on Dean. I don’t care what he is hiding. Whatever it is isn’t being done out of malice the way this man is trying to destroy innocent lives. So what if what Dean is hiding is being kept hidden to save someone? The man has every right to protect those he cares about.

“You really are a lost soul, aren’t you? Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

I stumble backward, deathly afraid of the chilly daggers he’s shooting my way. His look makes the blood drain from my face; my heart hammers erratically. I was never afraid of his anger before. I am now.

“You’re delusional if you think you can come in here and try to scare me. Get out. I’m tired of repeating myself.”

Queasiness creeps through my awareness of why he’s back in town; an appalling concoction of hatred shoots straight to my brain. It clouds my vision until I fumble trying to grab hold of the edge of the shelf to support me.

“Why would you come in here after all this time?”

“I came back for you. Like I said, I was waiting for the right time. Then what the fuck do you know, just when I think it’s time, I find out you’re fucking Dean Wagner. I’m going to ruin him. Ruin you. Dig deeper than I did before to find out what he’s hiding. I’m here to warn you once that if you don’t stay away, you’ll get caught up in the middle, and not even what we shared is going to stop me.”

He’s here because of me. Dean has the one thing he doesn’t. Me. If it’s remotely possible, his hateful words strike me down harder than hearing him admit he took a job without telling me.

“You really are a stranger to me. What happened to make you hate him so much?”

There is no stopping the tremor of discomfort that slides down my spine. My brain is struggling to understand why Sam seems to think he needs to warn me.  

I shove the thought of Dean hiding something that could land him in jail away. I don’t care what it is he’s hiding; I’ll stand by him before I ever listen to Sam’s warning.

Suddenly, his hand flies out. He violently grips my arms and squeezes to the point of pain. I wince. Fear cages me in. This man has lost his mind. I succumb to realize I never really knew him at all.

“You fucking bitch. He was my ticket out of radio and in front of the camera. When I realized he wouldn’t talk, I took the job to get us out of this town. I don’t need him anymore, but I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch him have you.”

“Have you lost your mind? I don’t belong to you or him. I choose what I do with my life, where I live, who I spend my time with. Me. Dean Wagner is a good man. You, on the other hand, are despicable. Let me go. You're hurting me, Sam.”

He looks from my face to where his strong grip is digging into my arms. His features frozen over in shock. I cringe remembering the way those hands used to touch me. Soft and gentle, not once did they hurt me.

He releases me as quickly as he grabbed me. Backs up and runs his hands through his hair. While me, I can barely see through the foggy confusion that overtakes my mind.

Pain and hatred. They roll through my body, detonating like a bomb.

“Fuck, Tatum. I’m sorry. I can’t believe you are doing this. How in the hell could you date the one man I hate? Are you trying to get back at me?”

My laugh breaks out from deep inside my chest. “You can’t be serious. Newsflash, asshole. You are the last person on my mind. Take that and talk about it on your show.” I refuse to budge and give him anything regarding Dean and me.

I flinch when the door to the store flings open and Joslyn walks in, her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. My gaze is wrenching from hers to Sam. His eyes go wide with a blazing smirk growing from the corners when he realizes who she is. It dissipates just as quickly when Roman walks in right behind her carrying Nash.

Fearful dread creeps over me like a blanket of snow, numbing my brain. In this frozen state, my mind offers me only one thought.

I won’t betray Dean’s trust in me. I’ll repeat everything that happened here, right down to Sam manhandling me.

We stand in knee-deep silence. I can feel the tension from Roman crawling across the floor, twining around my legs and trailing upward in a hurry to rip the air right out of my lungs.

Abruptly, Sam moves toward the door, pausing a moment as he stands in front of Roman, his shoulders rigid. I can imagine the glowering smirk on his face, but I’m more concerned about what Dean will do once he finds out Sam is here to snoop around.

I jump when Sam opens the door, then slams it shut behind him, leaving so much fear behind.