Sweet Dreams
Page 99
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I held my breath for his response because his face was as intense as his voice had been and I didn’t get it. He also was coming to me in a way that was strangely purposeful and aggressive and I didn’t get that either. I let go of the knife still stuck in the cake and started to take a step back when he caught me and yanked me forward so hard I collided with his body.
I looked up at him as his arms wound around me. “Tate –”
“Pop ran interference with Neeta. Wood told him that I told her I was gettin’ Jonas this weekend and Pop stepped in, had a few words, calmed her ass down and I get him Friday at noon, takin’ him back Sunday by five.”
I still didn’t get why this made him look and act like he was.
“That’s… good,” I said searchingly.
“It’s f**kin’ great.” His arms around me gave me a squeeze. “Miss my kid, babe.”
Finally, I kind of got it. My body automatically melted into his and my arms went around his neck.
“Then that’s great,” I said quietly. “But, you haven’t seen him in awhile. I know that scene last night was intense but don’t you have visitation rights? Was it in question that you’d get a visit?”
“No tellin’ how they’d jack me over. Even when things are steady, I’m not on the road and need to change a visit, she f**ks with me. I get him after school on my Fridays but sometimes he’s not at home when I come to pick him up. She’s made me wait an hour, two, once they dragged in at ten at night.”
“You’re joking,” I whispered, stunned at this news.
I had not come from a broken home. My parents stayed married and in love and my grandparents had stayed married and in love. Even my aunts and uncle all stayed married and in love. None of them left town so I grew up with all of them and all of my cousins and they were – we were – always together. A big family in each other’s business. Thanksgiving was a madhouse and, whoever’s house we had it in, it took hours to do the dishes because of the amount of food that needed to be cooked.
I’d always had family, a together family. I couldn’t fathom the consequences of a broken home but I really couldn’t wrap my head around the concept of using a child to screw with that child’s father.
He shook his head. “Nope. And when I gotta make a change ‘cause of work, she makes me pay. She likes her chance to f**k with me so she makes it tough, gives me shit, tells me I gotta renege and not make up a weekend.”
I remained silent and this was because I was expending a great deal of effort at keeping my body still and my mouth from screeching.
“So,” Tate continued, “goes without sayin’, us breakin’ it off permanent, me bein’ gone awhile then you bein’ here, she’s chompin’ at the bit to f**k with me.”
“Will Jonas be there on Friday?” I asked and he shrugged but grinned.
“Lucky for me, I’m a bounty hunter and I’m done with her shit. He isn’t, I’ll find him.”
“You put up with it before?” I asked and his grin turned into a smile.
“Babe, have you not got that I’ve put up with a lot of her shit before?”
“Why?” I blurted a very important question that I realized just then I’d wanted to ask for ages then I snapped my mouth shut because I didn’t want my question to come out as questioning him.
Tate didn’t have a problem with my question and I knew this because he answered it immediately.
“She was Neet. She was close to her Mom, I knew that. Everyone did. Thick as thieves. When Brenda died, Neeta unraveled. I was eight and I still remember it, still felt it, her pain was so absolute, it was physical. You got anywhere near her, you felt it. We were family, my Dad and Pop best friends since they were kids. Neeta feeling that kind of pain, losin’ Brenda myself, the only Mom I knew, Kyle losin’ her, Wood… it marked me. We all recovered but Neeta never did. And we all spent years puttin’ up with her shit in a variety of ways because we hoped she eventually would.” He took in a heavy breath and finished, “I told you she was always like she is ‘cause that was most of what I remember. But when she was a kid, before Brenda died, she wasn’t like that, Laurie. Sweet kid, the image of Brenda in every way. All of us hoped she’d come back to her. She just never did.”
“Brenda was the only Mom you knew?” I asked softly, cautiously, not wanting to push.
“Yeah,” he replied instantly. “My Mom left us when I was three. She’d come back, still does. Not often, though, and not long. Not then, not now. She doesn’t come back to stay, she comes back to visit. Even when I was a kid, it was like she was distant family, checking in, touching base, then she was gone again.”
My hand slid into his hair and I whispered, “I’m so sorry, Tate.”
His arms gave me a squeeze. “Babe, don’t be. Dad was a good dad, the best. She was no loss.”
My body jerked in surprise at his words. “But –”
“Flighty,” he cut me off, “fuck, she was flighty, self-absorbed. Not like Neeta. Different. She wasn’t lookin’ right at you, swear to God, she’d forget you existed.”
“That’s terrible.” I was still whispering.
“That’s my Mom. She ain’t a bitch, she’s just her.”
“So it was just you and your Dad?” I asked carefully.
“Yeah, and Pop, Wood, Neeta, Brenda then Stella. Stella’s about ten years younger than Pop. She was a kid but she pitched in when Brenda died. We were tight.”
“You still tight with Pop and Stella?”
“Yep.”
“Just not Wood and Neeta,” I murmured.
He moved, twisting so his h*ps were resting against the counter, I was in front of him and my body was resting against his. My hands slid to his chest and he spoke.
“Neeta, you get. Wood…” He stopped, I waited and he started again. “Wood and Dad were fishin’. Not like Bubba, they fished. Liked it. Did it together all the time. Pop and me, we weren’t into it but Wood and Dad would go out as often as they could. They were comin’ home, it was late, f**k knows what was in his head ‘cause it was too late. Wood fell asleep at the wheel, veered, truck hit somethin’, it rolled. He musta been goin’ fast, wantin’ to get home. The roll was bad. They came to rest against a tree. They were both belted, both of them shoulda made it but they went through a barricade. Jagged edge of the barricade cut through the truck and cut through Dad.”
I looked up at him as his arms wound around me. “Tate –”
“Pop ran interference with Neeta. Wood told him that I told her I was gettin’ Jonas this weekend and Pop stepped in, had a few words, calmed her ass down and I get him Friday at noon, takin’ him back Sunday by five.”
I still didn’t get why this made him look and act like he was.
“That’s… good,” I said searchingly.
“It’s f**kin’ great.” His arms around me gave me a squeeze. “Miss my kid, babe.”
Finally, I kind of got it. My body automatically melted into his and my arms went around his neck.
“Then that’s great,” I said quietly. “But, you haven’t seen him in awhile. I know that scene last night was intense but don’t you have visitation rights? Was it in question that you’d get a visit?”
“No tellin’ how they’d jack me over. Even when things are steady, I’m not on the road and need to change a visit, she f**ks with me. I get him after school on my Fridays but sometimes he’s not at home when I come to pick him up. She’s made me wait an hour, two, once they dragged in at ten at night.”
“You’re joking,” I whispered, stunned at this news.
I had not come from a broken home. My parents stayed married and in love and my grandparents had stayed married and in love. Even my aunts and uncle all stayed married and in love. None of them left town so I grew up with all of them and all of my cousins and they were – we were – always together. A big family in each other’s business. Thanksgiving was a madhouse and, whoever’s house we had it in, it took hours to do the dishes because of the amount of food that needed to be cooked.
I’d always had family, a together family. I couldn’t fathom the consequences of a broken home but I really couldn’t wrap my head around the concept of using a child to screw with that child’s father.
He shook his head. “Nope. And when I gotta make a change ‘cause of work, she makes me pay. She likes her chance to f**k with me so she makes it tough, gives me shit, tells me I gotta renege and not make up a weekend.”
I remained silent and this was because I was expending a great deal of effort at keeping my body still and my mouth from screeching.
“So,” Tate continued, “goes without sayin’, us breakin’ it off permanent, me bein’ gone awhile then you bein’ here, she’s chompin’ at the bit to f**k with me.”
“Will Jonas be there on Friday?” I asked and he shrugged but grinned.
“Lucky for me, I’m a bounty hunter and I’m done with her shit. He isn’t, I’ll find him.”
“You put up with it before?” I asked and his grin turned into a smile.
“Babe, have you not got that I’ve put up with a lot of her shit before?”
“Why?” I blurted a very important question that I realized just then I’d wanted to ask for ages then I snapped my mouth shut because I didn’t want my question to come out as questioning him.
Tate didn’t have a problem with my question and I knew this because he answered it immediately.
“She was Neet. She was close to her Mom, I knew that. Everyone did. Thick as thieves. When Brenda died, Neeta unraveled. I was eight and I still remember it, still felt it, her pain was so absolute, it was physical. You got anywhere near her, you felt it. We were family, my Dad and Pop best friends since they were kids. Neeta feeling that kind of pain, losin’ Brenda myself, the only Mom I knew, Kyle losin’ her, Wood… it marked me. We all recovered but Neeta never did. And we all spent years puttin’ up with her shit in a variety of ways because we hoped she eventually would.” He took in a heavy breath and finished, “I told you she was always like she is ‘cause that was most of what I remember. But when she was a kid, before Brenda died, she wasn’t like that, Laurie. Sweet kid, the image of Brenda in every way. All of us hoped she’d come back to her. She just never did.”
“Brenda was the only Mom you knew?” I asked softly, cautiously, not wanting to push.
“Yeah,” he replied instantly. “My Mom left us when I was three. She’d come back, still does. Not often, though, and not long. Not then, not now. She doesn’t come back to stay, she comes back to visit. Even when I was a kid, it was like she was distant family, checking in, touching base, then she was gone again.”
My hand slid into his hair and I whispered, “I’m so sorry, Tate.”
His arms gave me a squeeze. “Babe, don’t be. Dad was a good dad, the best. She was no loss.”
My body jerked in surprise at his words. “But –”
“Flighty,” he cut me off, “fuck, she was flighty, self-absorbed. Not like Neeta. Different. She wasn’t lookin’ right at you, swear to God, she’d forget you existed.”
“That’s terrible.” I was still whispering.
“That’s my Mom. She ain’t a bitch, she’s just her.”
“So it was just you and your Dad?” I asked carefully.
“Yeah, and Pop, Wood, Neeta, Brenda then Stella. Stella’s about ten years younger than Pop. She was a kid but she pitched in when Brenda died. We were tight.”
“You still tight with Pop and Stella?”
“Yep.”
“Just not Wood and Neeta,” I murmured.
He moved, twisting so his h*ps were resting against the counter, I was in front of him and my body was resting against his. My hands slid to his chest and he spoke.
“Neeta, you get. Wood…” He stopped, I waited and he started again. “Wood and Dad were fishin’. Not like Bubba, they fished. Liked it. Did it together all the time. Pop and me, we weren’t into it but Wood and Dad would go out as often as they could. They were comin’ home, it was late, f**k knows what was in his head ‘cause it was too late. Wood fell asleep at the wheel, veered, truck hit somethin’, it rolled. He musta been goin’ fast, wantin’ to get home. The roll was bad. They came to rest against a tree. They were both belted, both of them shoulda made it but they went through a barricade. Jagged edge of the barricade cut through the truck and cut through Dad.”
