Page 40 of Safe With Me
My phone dinged, and I lifted my head to read Gracie’s text.Call me.
Uh, no. Not tonight. I was done with all the shit. Done, done, done.
I slung my phone and key fob in my purse and shoved the door open. A familiar engine rumbled to a stop at the curb, and I closed my eyes on a whispered curse. Really? If I’d wanted him here, I’d have texted him. I ignored the tiny voice murmuring that of course I wanted him here. That little voice could go to hell, too.
A truck door slammed, and boots scraped up my driveway. “Hey, you were supposed to text me.”
Ignoring him, I skirted my SUV and headed for the front door.
“Hannah.” His loping steps turned to a jog. A gentle hand caught my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” I punched in the front door code and stomped inside.
He was right behind me, shutting the door and throwing the lock. “Baby–”
With a smothered scream, I threw my bag on the rustic wooden bench by the front door. Burying my face in both hands, I fought the sob clawing at my throat.
“Sugar.” He wrapped both arms around me, my back tucked against his chest. The hug tightened, and he rested his cheek against my temple. Soap and diesel and clean air surrounded me. “Baby.”
The sob burst free, followed by another, and I bent forward, arms folded over my aching middle. He held on with one arm, stroking my hair away from my face with his free hand.
The pain burbled free in a strangled moan bordering on a cry.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, rocking me and pressing light kisses to my cheek and ear.
I screamed again then, the agony of my sister hating me, my mama never being what I needed, choosing her over and over, bursting free, and Tate held on tighter.
“Oh, honey,” he muttered into my hair. Even with my eyes scrunched closed so tight all I could see was darkness, tears escaped, plopping onto my sweatshirt. Gasping sobs tore at me, scraping my throat, hurting my chest, and I sagged into his steadiness, letting his body support mine.
I was done. I couldn’t do this any longer.
I wept, and he held me until I was all cried out. In his arms, I calmed, although I shuddered with tiny hiccuping sobs. He pulled me closer into his chest, arms crossed over my torso, warm hands cupping my shoulders.
“She hates me.” The whisper tore at my aching throat.
“What?” He stroked damp hair from my cheek.
“Elizabeth.” I pushed free of his hold, his feelings for her still tangled up with mine, even after our conversation that afternoon. Why couldn’t I have wanted someone with whom I could have something shiny and new? I’d had opportunities, but it had always,always, been him. “She said she hates me.”
“She doesn’t.” He trailed a knuckle down my nape in soft comfort.
I turned on him, glaring and brushing at my wet cheeks. “She said it, Tate. Gracie asked her why she was doing what she was, and she said, no,screamedbecause she hates me.”
“People say things they don’t mean.” His voice hardened. “Trust me I know. And trust me when I tell you your sister doesn’t hate you.”
“Well, it sure feels like it.” I pushed my hair back with both hands. My stomach ached, and my temples pulsed with a dull pain, too. I sniffled, my nose stopped up. “And I think I hate her, too.”
“Baby, don’t.” He reached for me, and I backed away.
“You’re taking her side. Why should I be surprised?” Even I could hear the angry panic in my voice. My chest tightened, suffocating me.
“I’m not taking anybody’s side. There is no side here, Hannah, because you’re not fighting with her. She’s acting out, and you’re catching the brunt of it.” He speared his fingers through his hair, his mouth a tense, unhappy line. “I don’t know what her deal is, but I’m telling you, I don’t think your sister hates you.”
I opened my mouth, and he sighed, shaking his head.
“I think she hates herself.” His shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “It’s just easier to tell herself she hates you.”
Eyes narrowed, I crossed my arms. “Is that insight from your tech-college dual enrollment psychology class?”
