Chapter 4

Tatum

The clubhouse is a beehive of activity when I enter. A part of me feels like this place should look different. As far as I'm concerned, my life partially changed out in the driveway. An apology from Remy isn't something I thought I'd ever get. Not because I didn't think he would give it to me, but rather I didn't feel like I deserved one. If truth be known, I probably owe him the apology, not the other way around.

I'm not stupid enough to not take what he's offering. If him apologizing means we can move on, then so be it. One of us had to extend an olive branch. I'm willing to admit the more mature one of us did the extending.

"About time you got here!"

Seeing Addie puts me at ease. She's been my best friend for years, and knowing she's here tonight helps me not feel so anxious. "Sorry, I ran back to the apartment to change."

She looks down at the dress, leggings, and combat boots I'm wearing, giving me a look. "Did you spill something on the clothes you wore to work, or were you wanting to show Remy what he's missing?"

I can't deny the intent was there. After my conversation with Cash today, I'd thought about Remy more than I have in the last twelve months. My self-esteem needs for him to look at and want me. Since he pushed me off him and rejected my advances, I've been struggling to have the same confidence I had before. Remy didn't ever think about his actions affecting my confidence, I know he didn't, but I can't help how I've been feeling or how I've reacted.

"Maybe." I shrug, not meeting her eyes.

She steps closer to me, her dark gaze meeting mine. Addie is very much the daughter of Tyler Blackfoot. She's intuitive, observant, and having been my best friend for much of my life, can read me like a damn book. "Are you ready to move on, Tee?"

Her nickname for me grounds me and settles me into a place where I'm comfortable, even around all of those I consider family. Grabbing a shot glass someone passed to me, I shoot the burning liquid, glancing to make sure my parents didn't see it. Not being twenty-one is the shitty part of coming to a club party right now. It's not that my parents think I'm innocent, but I don't necessarily like to flaunt it in their faces either. I'm about to answer her when I feel him.

Literally, it's an awareness in my body, and I've been ignoring it for the past year. Tonight ignorance isn't bliss. Turning to face the entrance from the garage, I see him. It's almost as if I'm looking at him for the first time again. He's emerging from a fog I've kept him under for so long, and now I'm letting my gaze wash over him. For these few minutes, I'm not allowing myself to push back the feelings I always do when faced with him. He's apologized, and it's only fair that I let some of the grudge I've been holding go.

The last year has changed him. His hair is longer, he's gotten more tattoos, and his smile isn't as quick to spread across his face. There's an air of danger about him, a brooding loner vibe that he didn't have before. It's sexy, and I want to push past those walls he's built, tear them down with my bare hands, and burrow under his skin.

"What do you think when you look at him?" Addie asks, watching me closely.

"What do I think? Nothing, not anymore."

If she'd asked me how I feel? That would be a whole different answer. No matter what Remy and I have or haven't gone through in the past year, he still evokes a ton of emotions in me. Sadness, love, lust, loneliness, a gnawing in my gut for the friend I once had. A profound loss for the love I knew we were going to have. If I had it to do over again, I would stubbornly tell anyone who asked that I'd do it the exact same. Thing is though, I wouldn't. I wouldn't push him so hard, wouldn't give myself up to someone else just so I'd get it over with. Regret has hit me hard the last year, but no one knows what I'm regretting more than anything is my lack of patience.

Remy deserved that patience, and I blew it.

It's something I'll live with for the rest of my life. Most everyone thinks I don't talk to Remy because I'm pissed at him. Fact is, I'm pissed and disappointed in myself. The easiest way to deflect is to not put myself in the situation again.

The only problem is I'm not sure how in the world we can move on from this. Even with the apology and the promise, I don't know that I can let my guard down and let myself be vulnerable, knowing that I may ruin this again – it's the worst feeling in the world.

Addie rolls her eyes, probably pissed at the way I dismiss everything with a sort of nonchalance. She of all people knows there's a lot of feeling there.

"Whatever girl, you keep telling yourself whatever you need to. Your eyes following him every time you're around him tell a totally different story than the words coming out of your mouth."

I want to argue with her as she turns her back on me, but it's not worth it. She knows me better than I know myself most of the time.

Turning around I notice my mom sitting at one of the bar top tables we have around the room. She's by herself, which is unusual. Typically, she and my dad are attached at the hip. Feeling a little down, I walk over to her, pull myself up into the high chair, and lean my shoulder against hers.

"Hey, Momma."

She puts her arm around me, running her hand up and down my arm. "Haven't seen you around here lately."

I cut my eyes at her. "Scenery tends to be a bit confusing sometimes."

Her laugh is loud, louder than the people around us. "Love always is, sweetheart."

"Who said anything about love?"

This time she cuts her eyes toward me and takes a drink of the rum and Coke she's fond of in front of her. "I saw you outside with Remy. When are you going to let it go, Tate?"

She's the only person besides Addie who knows what happened last year. It'd taken me three weeks, but I'd ended up on the screened-in back porch Mom and I spent so many afternoons and evenings together, crying to her about loving Remy and how I fucked up by sleeping with a guy who didn't give a shit about me. She'd held me, let me cry, and told me all about the father of my half-brother and half-sister. Everybody makes mistakes she'd said. And here I am, still making them.

"I don't know why I'm still holding on to it," I whisper. "The part of me that believes in fairytales wants one with him."

"Bikers who wear leather jackets and work protection for strip clubs sometimes have different ideas of what the fairytale is baby." She laughs. "My advice to you, because you are totally my child, is to let it happen when it does. You keep pushing him away? One day, Tate, he's not going to come back. He's going to listen, and he's going to hear you loud and clear."

Those thoughts are heavy on my mind as I hear a loud cheer come up from the crowd. Jagger is pushing a birthday cake in B's direction, and his beautiful, clear voice can be heard over everyone else singing "Happy Birthday" to his wife.

At the end, he sets the cake down, wraps her in his arms, and kisses her passionately while everyone whistles and shouts encouraging words. In the midst of it all, my eyes lock onto Remy's. We stare at each other, until I feel a shiver against my skin, his gaze heating, telling me with no words that could be us.

As I turn to face my mom, breaking our stare, I know without a doubt it could be.

If only we could get our shit together and stop fucking around.