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Since I was having dinner with Jude’s grandpa tonight, I only made enough dinner for my mom and dad—if he decided to come home tonight. He was gone more and more. I couldn’t even recall the last time I saw him.
I set the plate in front of my mom where I’d seated her at the kitchen table.
She stared at the food like she had no idea what it was. “Mom, it’s spaghetti. Your favorite.”
Her vacant green eyes that were the same shade as mine, peered up at me. “Please, eat,” I begged.
Her head lowered to look at the food once more.
I wanted to take the plate and smash it against the floor. I wanted to yell and scream and pull my hair. I wanted to cause a scene. I’d only ever done it once, but it had done no good, and I knew now would be no different.
My mom was gone and she was never coming back. All I had left was this shell.
I groaned and muttered, “Whatever. I don’t care anymore.”
With my words still lingering in the air, I left the kitchen and headed upstairs to my room. I changed my clothes, but kept it simple in jeans and a loose gray sweatshirt. I pulled my hair to the side and braided it before sweeping a pale pink gloss across my lips. I wasn’t trying to look nice for Jude, I wasn’t even getting that dressed up, but for once I wanted to feel like a normal girl going out for a while instead of the hermit I’d become. Life had been passing me by for far too long and it was time for me to take control again. I held the reigns of my future and I was doing an about-face. It was time for me and everyone else to discover the real Tatum O’Connor.
My phone beeped from my pocket and I pulled it out to see a text from Jude telling me he was waiting outside. I bound down the steps and to the front door. Just before I opened it, I called, “Bye, mom!” Although, she probably didn’t even hear me.
Jude stood beside his truck, leaning against the passenger door. As I approached he opened the door and I hopped inside. He slid into the driver’s seat and said, “Someone seems eager to see me.” His grin spread across his face, lightening his eyes to a golden color.
“More like eager to get out of the house,” I mumbled.
He nodded his head sympathetically like he understood.
Buckling the seatbelt, I asked, “Where are we going?”
He snorted, driving out of the neighborhood. All the houses looked the same, blending together. I wondered if the people living behind the walls were aware of how bad things were for me, or were they oblivious to everything but their own lives? Probably the latter.
“Where’s the fun in telling you?” He responded.
I should’ve known to expect that kind of answer from him.
I sat back in the seat and brought my feet up against the dashboard, resolving not to ask him any more questions.
Surprisingly, he grew quiet. I didn’t know he could go a minute without filling a void with the sound of his voice.
A little while later he turned down a familiar dirt road. “I thought we were doing something before we went to your grandpa’s?” I asked, as the trees grew plentiful. They were only beginning to bud, but there were so many of them that they provided a decent amount of shade.
“We are.”
That’s all he said on the matter and I knew I wouldn’t get anything else out of him.
Suddenly, he stopped the truck, putting it in park.
I looked around, waiting to see something profound. “Why are we stopping here?” I asked, when I didn’t see anything but grass and trees.
“I hope you don’t mind walking,” he smiled, reaching into the back of his truck for something. “It’s about a mile walk to get where we’re going.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him just as he dropped whatever he’d been looking for into my lap. I picked up the Shenandoah University sweatshirt and stared at it. “Why do I need this? I’m already wearing a sweatshirt.”
He narrowed his eyes at what I wore. “Uh, yeah, that thi
n thing isn’t going to do anything to keep you warm. Put the sweatshirt on and don’t argue with me. I won’t have you getting sick on my conscience.”
“Do you even have a conscience?” I countered, pulling the sweatshirt on. It was warm from the heat of the car and smelled woodsy and masculine with something else that I couldn’t put my finger on that was inherently Jude.