Tate let out a small breath and nodded and I resisted the urge to pull him into my arms. I hadn’t really considered what he was going through as he was forced to face a past that clearly had been hard for him. The few things he’d said about Buck and Denny along with the signs I’d seen that he’d been physically abused were likely just the tip of the iceberg. Not to mention the fact that he’d taken Matty with him when he’d run…I hadn’t wanted to know more of Tate’s story when I’d blackmailed him into helping me, because I wouldn’t have been able to even voice the threat.
But now?
Now I wanted to know. I wanted to understand everything that made this man tick. I wanted to know how someone who’d been raised by a monster like Buck had turned out to be so sweet and giving and so fucking strong.
“Will you tell me about the night you left?” I asked as I forced myself to release my hold on Tate’s neck.
“I didn’t leave, I ran,” Tate said with a slight laugh that held no humor whatsoever. He looked around the quiet rest stop. There were no other cars and the only sound besides the wind blowing through the leaves above us was the din of the Interstate traffic.
“I’d been saving up for almost a year,” Tate said. “I knew I’d need at least a few thousand in the bank to pay for a bus ticket and to get an apartment in the city – I’d figured someplace like Dallas would be a good place to start over.”
Tate had started rocking his upper body back and forth slightly as he spoke. “I worked at a dry cleaning store so I planned to leave on the day I got paid. I cashed my paycheck on the way home – it was only a few hundred dollars but it felt like a million since it was buying me my freedom.”
“How old were you?” I interrupted.
“Twenty-two,” Tate said. “I’d made plans to leave that night. Denny usually passed out after spending most of the night getting high and Buck spent most Friday nights with whatever woman he was fucking at the time. My plan was to go home, lay low until things were quiet and then grab my shit and go.”
“It didn’t happen that way.”
Tate laughed and shook his head. “Not even close. Buck wasn’t home when I got there, but Denny was. Only he wasn’t alone.”
“Matty,” I guessed.
Tate nodded. “I walked into the trailer and the first thing I see is Denny shooting up. And there sitting on the floor in front of the TV is this little kid. I asked Denny who he was, but all he said was that it was none of my business.”
Tate’s agonized eyes shifted to me. “I told myself he wasn’t my problem, that I needed to stick to my plan.” He dropped his eyes to his hands again. “I left him there, Hawke,” he whispered brokenly. “Denny was passed out and the kid was asleep on the floor and I just left. I was so fucking selfish-”
“Hey,” I said, grabbing one of Tate’s clenched hands in mine. “You went back,” I said firmly as I linked our fingers together. “You went back. That’s all that matters.”
Tate nodded and used his free hand to swipe away the tears that had formed in his eyes. “I made it to the end of the driveway before I turned around. I was freaking out that Buck would come home early so I didn’t even wake him up. I just grabbed him and took him. He…he had this huge bruise on the side of his face and I knew I’d made the right choice.”
“What happened after that?”
“He didn’t wake up until we were on the bus. I asked him what his name was, who his mom was, that kind of thing. But he wouldn’t speak to me…not a word. I finally got him to tell me he was three by asking him to hold up his fingers to show me how old he was. Once we got to Dallas, I got us a motel room. He wouldn’t eat or drink anything and he started crying and wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what to do so I just started talking to him. I told him I was scared too. And then I started talking about all the superheroes I used to read about when I was a kid and he finally quieted.”
“And you gave him your Spiderman doll,” I ventured.
“It was stupid to take the doll when I left, but I’d had it for so long-”
“It’s not stupid, Tate. We hang on to the good things in our life for as long as we can.”
Tate squeezed my hand and gave me a wobbly smile. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to wipe away a lingering tear that slipped down his face. He stilled at the contact and I was powerless to tear my gaze from his. Tate was the one to finally break the connection and I felt a tug of pain when he carefully pulled his hand free of mine.