Chapter 6

Tatum

Work isn't my friend today after the party last night. I ended up drinking way too much and letting my brother Drew get me back to my and Addie's apartment. Luckily, I don't think my parents noticed, and if they did, they didn't say anything. Drew left me a stern text message this morning, but that's him, and I'm used to his judgement. I've been reveling in it since I was a kid. My brain is a little cloudy, so I went to the apartment and slept for forty-five minutes, instead of going to grab lunch. I'm hoping like hell it'll make me feel less sick and more alive.

As I open the shop up and go back to the counter, I see an aqua blue and gray envelope sitting there, propped up against my stapler. I recognize the black ink scribbled on the front as Remy's, and my name is on it.

Cash isn't back yet, otherwise I would ask him when Remy showed up, why he did it when I wasn't here, and what this envelope means. A part of me knows I should confront Remy, I should let things go, but we hurt each other so badly, and we've continued to hurt one another.

Remy isn't the same guy he was last year, and I'm definitely not the same girl. He's quieter, more of a loner (if that's even possible), has gotten more tattoos (some hot as fuck ones on his neck) and let his hair grow out. Given the way he's bulked up, I'm imagining he's spending a lot of his time in the gym.

Me? I'm spending more time with Addie, hanging out with my parents, spending less time being the social butterfly I've always been, and trying like hell to find out who I am. I spent a semester at college and hated it, I won't be going back. Yet, I haven't found that one thing that's mine yet.

Is Remy the thing that's mine?

Flipping the envelope over in my hand, I carefully tear it open, not wanting to destroy anything he's done. Nobody has ever given me anything in an envelope like this, and I can admit even if they did, it wouldn't mean as much as it means right now.

My hands shake as I unfold the gray paper with polka dots on it. A grin plays on my lips. He knows me and my style so well, probably better than anyone besides Addie. The realization is a kick in the gut, since I basically said fuck you to those feelings last year when I slept with that other guy. If truth be told, I can't believe he's willing to overlook it, but if he's willing to do so, then I'm okay with trying to figure out where we stand.

I love his handwriting, and for a moment, I stare at it, not actually seeing the words, but when I do, tears pool in my eyes and I choke back a sob.

Dark hair

Blue eyes

Dramatic flair

Passionate sighs

Remember every time I kissed you

Damn Tate, I fuckin' miss you

The smile that played at my lips breaks into a huge grin as I read the words over and over again.

"I miss you, too." Whispering the words to myself, I pull the paper closer to me, holding it like the precious object it is. I want to tell him, but a text feels so impersonal after what he's just done for me. Talking face-to-face isn't happening yet, and I like the idea of notes.

But I don't wanna half-ass it. I want to put as much thought into it as he did for me.

"You okay?" Cash asks as he comes through the front door, holding what looks to be my favorite coffee in his hand.

"Yeah." I nod, surprised at how honest that answer is. I haven't been okay for a long time. Truth be told, I've been going through the motions, being the strong girl everyone sees me as being, but I've been fucking lonely. I've needed something in my life. Something I wasn't aware of until I got this letter. "I'm good."

Cash hands me my coffee. "You looked like you could use this."

"Thank you." I take a large drink from the to-go cup, before I level him with a glare. "When did he drop it off?" I hold up the envelope.

"After you left for lunch. Did it say what you've been wanting it to say?"

I think about the question. For a year, I haven't known what I wanted Remy to say, not really. Holding onto the hurt was enough, living with embarrassment and holding it in front of me like a shield. What's in the envelope is an opening, a peace offering I never thought I'd have, made even more special by what he said to me last night. "Yeah, it was everything I wanted to hear," I admit. "I just hope I'm able to express to him the things he's expressed to me."

"You're a tough girl, Tate, because you've had to be. You have a reputation that precedes you. You're the daughter of the president of the Heaven Hill MC, the only full-blooded one. Even if it doesn't matter to you, it matters to other people. Many feel like if they can take you on, they've taken on the baddest bitch around, which is why you're so tough. I don't know if you realize this about yourself or not, but even though you're nice, it's that type of polite your grandmother teaches you. You know, the politeness you give strangers." He takes a second and runs a hand through his hair. "It's hard to get to know the real Tatum."

"It is." I agree with him. "When I was younger, I was open to people, let them be my friends, and did things for them. Then I realized the only reason they wanted to be my friend was because of who my dad is. They wanted to see what it was like to have a sleepover at our house. Did he have guns? Did he keep his bike in the house? Did I ever see anything illegal? I went out with one guy for two months before I understood why we were going out."

"Why were you?" he asks softly.

"His friends bet him money to see what he could find out about the club," I admit. "I never went out with another guy again."

"And then whatever happened with you and Remy last year occurred?"

This sucks to admit to someone, how inexperienced I am. How little I've lived in life because I don't know people's true motives. "Right."

"Honey." He tilts his head. "Not everyone is like that, and I wouldn't stick up for my brother if he was a dick. I hope you know me well enough to know that."

"I know, he's not." I take a deep breath, putting my hands on my hips. "Truth is, last year was my fault. I made a decision, and it was an awful one. If anyone deserves blame for how he and I left things, it's ninety-five percent mine."

He comes around the counter and pulls me into a hug I need desperately. "Lucky for you, Remy's a fixer. He's willing to do what it takes to make sure the people in his life are good."

I'm angry and sad that he's had to do that most his life. I hug Cash back, burying my face in his shoulder. The words I whisper almost can't be heard. "He shouldn't have to do that."

"It's what he does. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it one day, but my point is, let him. If this is what the two of you need to fix this rift – and it's a huge one that anyone looking at the two of you can see– let him. Be open to fixing it. Life isn't easy, Tate, and love isn't either, but it can be beautiful – if you let it."

He leaves me after those words, and I realize he's right. I have to let things happen, I have to be open, and I have to be accepting. Which means it's time to stop running, hiding, and blaming. I'm an adult, and I need to act like it.

Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I text Addie, seeing if she wants to join me after work to go look for some manly stationary. If he's willing to take a chance, then so am I.