Tatum

Sunlight pours down from the sky, unpolluted, dispersed light; its shade confidently revealing how gorgeous a day the outside world surrounding us is going to be. But there’s tension in the air, a thick cloud of smoke hanging over my head reminding me once again, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Sam. He’s slowly leaving a trail of fuel. Waiting to light the fire.

This isn’t the end of Sam’s hatred. Not by a long shot. The man has gone off the deep end, and for the first time since I met him, I think his jealousy has caused him to do more than get us to snap. I honestly think he’s capable of violence. The thought twists in my stomach, causing me to nearly double over.

Sam said he was giving me one warning. The one he gave me was filled with malice, hyped-up anger. Those pictures, though, I truly believe they are a nasty sign of the danger that’s yet to come.

He’s gone too far. What this has turned into is a jealous man’s revenge. It’s not about secrets anymore. It’s a man whose own disloyalty has blinded him. All the tears I’ve shed over him want to unleash again. I feel sorry for him in a way I shouldn’t. He’s broken my heart in the worst way, yet my heart is full of a more powerful gift given by the man walking toward me. Despite the burrowed lines deepening across his forehead with every step he takes.

Dean might know how the press sneaks into people’s personal world better than I do. This horrendous outburst of evil to get under our skin, though, is my fault. I know better than to bring it up to him. He won’t leave my side if I do.

With a steady rumble of my breath pausing the air in my lungs, I wish time would halt. And though time carries on, the erratic emotions that flow through me stir up my soul.

I don’t like how my life takes five steady steps forward only to be shoved with a giant push ten steps back. It flusters my brain, causes unwanted heartache, and pushes emotions of betrayal through my veins.

My hands are trembling. My stomach is a wreck. Knotted in a tight ball and roiling. The words I want to say are blended with pure, raw anxiety. They keep crawling up my throat. And still, I can’t get them to come out.

Last night, I kept drifting in and out of sleep. My body wrapped tightly in Dean’s arms. Protection, concern, fear, and the truth whispering from my walls. So much of it, I was frightened to move.

Instead, I listened to Dean’s breathing, his big heart beating against the heat of my back. The man is slowly dying inside, and somewhere in the dead of night, I realized why.

I woke this morning remembering every detail from yesterday. From how enraged he was about the pictures to his worry, his sudden change when I told him I don’t care.

Erica, on the other hand, was fuming when she called me. I told her to stay out of it and let me handle it. Too many people are being hurt, and if anything were to happen to her because of me, I would feel more guilt grind at my chest than I already do.

The entire time I was getting ready for work this morning, Dean was on the phone. His infuriated tone blaring down the hall when he talked to Marcus. His tone shifting gears to an excruciating, agonizing string of helplessness when he talked to Roman about Miles. I’m relieved Brock and Roman left to get him settled in rehab. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision for any of them to make. Dean wanted to be there with them. I understand, but the man has enough going on here. Too many things that I’m continuing to gulp down in a burn that hurts everything inside of me.

I sigh, push forward to gather my strength in order tell Dean something he already knows but most likely doesn’t want to hear. After we're done, I’m going to work as usual, ignore the reporters who will badger me with phone calls until this blows over, and carry on with my day as normal. A situation like this, one I’ve never given much thought to before, has me giving a silent prayer of thanks to my mother that she chose a place with tight security. There’s not a chance in hell the press will slip past them, or the men Dean told me will be secretively hovering around.

God, how I wish she were here. She’d tell me to keep to myself, not say a word, and let Dean handle it. But she’d be the ear I need. The hand on my shoulder, her convincing words to take away the guilt that is shamelessly bottling up my whole being.

Despite it all, I’m happy. Every moment Dean and I spend together, I fall for him a little more. I need him to protect my heart, not my reputation. I need the way he talks to me, trusts me, opens up to me about his worries, uncertainties. I need him to continue to look at me the way he is now, as if I’m the air he needs to breathe.

What we have cannot be touched if we don’t let it. It’s incomparable to what I had with Sam, nothing like I’ve felt before and everything I knew I wanted. Dean and I fit, we see each other, we’re honest, trustful, and the peace and tranquility he needs to be set free aren’t going to come unless he faces his greatest fear.

“What’s running through your head, Tatum?” He grips hold of my waist. Strong, strong hands that bend me to his will slide up and down my sides before he dips to kiss me.

This kiss makes me dizzy. Momentarily obliterates every thought. His tongue is exploring my mouth slowly as if he never wants it to end. Hands slide up my arms, my neck, and cup the sides of my face. It’s such an intimate gesture that all I can see is him.

I study him. The tension around his mouth and eyes is stressed. He’s absolutely beautiful, yet even though I told him I was okay, he still looks broken down and beaten. It’s easy to see how he’s bothered by the invasion of our privacy. But there’s more. So much more to what’s bothering him. The foundation to what’s created his misery.

I lean into him, chest to chest, heart to heart. Place my hands on either side of his face, fingers grazing at the stubble of his facial hair. And we rock the foundation between our feet as we hold each other the same way, our gazes powerfully sealed. He and Leila are my only thoughts, my only concerns, and I’ll be complete if they're all I’ll have.

I’m scared to tell him, but he needs to know how I feel. He needs to think about what I’m going to say, and do what he thinks is best, and no matter what, I’ll respect his decision. I care so much about him; I want his mind to be free of guilt so that the man buried beneath his shadow of doubt will fully emerge.

“I don’t think it’s wise to keep this from Leila any longer, Dean. You should tell her. I’m not butting in. I’ll never speak of it again if you tell me it’s none of my business. If pictures of me worked you up, then I can only imagine how you’ll be if she somehow finds out. You say she won’t, but it’s clear to see that holding this from her is keeping the real you hidden from not only everyone who cares about you but from yourself. I don’t think you see it. I think you’ve lived with it for so long that you try to fix everyone else instead of fixing yourself. You deserve to be free of the torture this is causing you, Dean.”

His grip on my hips tightens. Even though he drags his gaze from mine, staring over my head off somewhere in the distance, I can read his thoughts.

He’s thinking of the happiness only a child can give him. His heart is full of her light as much as it’s full of being her father. However, he’s split in two. One half is full of his loyalty to his son; the other, though, the one that’s trying to remain steady, is shattered into a million pieces.

“First of all, don’t ever hold back how you feel about anything with me, Tatum. Your honesty is one of the things that make the person you are. I know it’s time. Sheer, raw terror of losing her keeps holding me back. I’m planning on telling her this weekend. She’s applying for internships this week. She’s worked her ass off to get the one she wants. I want her focusing on school, not this. I know it sounds like another excuse. It’s not.”

When he swallows, I feel his tangled torment all the way to my soul. For an eternity, we stand still, quiet, until my brain gives me the ability to speak.

“You will never lose her. She loves you too much. You’re the bond that has held her together. The man who has made her into one of the strongest women I’ve met. Don’t doubt yourself or the love she has for you. If you do, then you aren’t the man I’m falling for. Only you can end the torture you’ve inflicted upon yourself. I don’t believe your son would want you to live like this.”

His silence smothers me. He said I didn’t overstep; I hope I didn’t by bringing up his son.

I do the one thing I know he likes. I lay my head on his chest, slide my hands up and down his back, and cocoon him in my arms. The longer we stand like this, the more I wonder what he’s thinking. There’s that little bit of self-doubt sneering in my ear, telling me maybe his fear is trying to rule over removing the burden.

What he says next is not at all what I was expecting. “I’m falling for you, too,” he murmurs. Warmth is gushing into my chest, my feelings all over the place as I tilt my head to admire this man. This magnificent man who in the span of less than a month has come to mean everything to me.

“That makes me happy. You make me happy. I want you to be happy, too. I believe once the two of you discuss this, you will be. I’m here for you always, Dean.”

I hope Leila is strong enough to learn the truth.

Because we both know that questioning your own heart is the toughest question to answer.