Mask | ✓

21

Everyone has a breaking point. The moment where the stress, pressure, anger—all those emotions—finally become too much, and they break. I'd experienced it before. I was all too familiar with all those negative emotions building up until they eventually consumed me.

I'd seen pack members and family members alike go through it as well. No two people reacted the same; everyone handled it in different ways. However, one person I thought I'd never see reach the point of no return was Tatum. When he came in after returning from getting food, the expression on his face wasn't one I was used to seeing.

There was something wrong with Tatum—I knew that from day one. The saying eyes were windows to the soul was undoubtedly true in his case. It wasn't hard for someone who had just met him to tell him something was wrong, so how did his pack overlook that? I didn't know.

But he'd started to look better. He was joking around, playing games, and he was smiling too! Maybe it wasn't the most significant change, but it was growth. That sad look in his eyes had started to dim just slightly.

But now?

As I stared at him from my seat on the couch, he looked worse than before. The frown that took over his face was painful to see. His green eyes appeared lifeless, and he just looked so...so defeated.

Did I do that?

One minute we were joking and making plans to go on a run, then the next, he was exiting the room as if I was the plague. Was this my fault?

"Tatum, are you—"

"Here," he sat a bag on the table in front of me before turning to go upstairs.

The way he spoke—it was cold. It reminded me of when we had first met, but worse. It was as if his walls were up, but there were cracks inside of them. He was effectively shutting me out, but through the cracks, I could see just how broken he truly was.

"Tatum!" I quickly moved off the couch to grab his arm. My fingers brushed against him, and he yanked away as if I had burned him. "Tate?"

"Not now, Nixon," he said. It was as if he was trying to hide behind that calm, put-together mask he wore, but it no longer worked. It was now transparent—I could see through it.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, not letting up. "Did something happen? Did I do—"

"Stop!" Came the reply, and he spun around to face me. His eyes were full of anger, but I held my ground.

"Talk to me," I tried again. "I want to be there for you."

Situations like this weren't my strong suit. This was something that Nolan or Eli would be better suited for, but I wanted to try. I needed to try.

A thin smile took over his face, and he scoffed. "You want to be there? You could be leaving at any given point, Nixon. Your stay is temporary."

Your stay is temporary. The four words were drowned in bitterness, and I didn't know what to say. Tatum stared at me for a few minutes before he slowly turned back around and made his way up the stairs.

The only thing I could do was stare in the direction he had gone until I heard the sound of his bedroom door shut.

One question kept racing through my mind: what the hell happened?

...

I raised my hand and knocked on the door. "Tatum?" I stood there for a few minutes, but no reply came, so I knocked again. Still, there was no answer, so I tried one last time. "Tatum, I'm coming in."

The events from earlier had swarmed my mind. I couldn't stop worrying about him. Even if he didn't want to talk, I needed to see him.

I turned the knob and opened the door, but Tatum wasn't in sight. My eyes examined the room until I saw another door cracked open slightly. I walked toward it and saw Tatum sitting on the floor, shirtless, with a white towel beside him. A towel that he hadn't used given the way his hair dripped.

With a frown on my face, I approached him. I grabbed the towel from where it had been and sat before him as I dried his hair. My worries only grew. This wasn't Tatum.

Neither one of us said anything. He didn't bother trying to stop me, and I didn't bother trying to get him to talk. Once he was completely dried, I looked around for a shirt, but there wasn't one in the bathroom. I tried to rise to go and grab one from his room, but he stopped me by grabbing my arm.

"Stay."

The word was spoken quietly. The bathroom was the last place I wanted to be. Having the both of us inside made it feel smaller than it actually was, and it was fucking with my mind, but I wasn't going to leave him. So I pushed down the uneasiness I was feeling and took a seat beside him.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there. We never said a word, but they weren't needed. The silence was enough. It was only when Tatum's head hit my shoulder that I realized he'd fallen asleep. A silent sigh escaped me, and I stared down at him.

I wondered just what the hell he had been through. No, what was he going through? It was time I found out.