Dirty Little Secret

I stare up at Tate. The wild and panicked look in his eyes growing bigger with every struggled breath. I didn't know how to react, Courtney was right. Tate was a killer, a killer at ten years old. I now understood why he was so distant, why he kept everyone at arm’s length. I didn't understand how he could have done it, the Tate that I've come to know is gentle and loving and patient. Surely he didn't kill his brother on purpose; he didn't plan it out of malice.

"Tate," I finally choke out. "Talk to me."

Tate sits on the edge of the bed again, burying his face in his hands. A small whimper escaped from his lips. I crawl to him, sitting as close as I possibly could, wrapping my arms around him pulling him towards me.

"We were just playing, I didn't mean to," Tate let out another painful sob. I could tell he was trying his hardest to hold everything in.

"Let it out," I say while rubbing his back.

Tate didn't seem big anymore. The once powerful, looming man that once towered over me now sat by my side, allowing me to comfort him like a small child. "Jackson was like a fish. He loved being in the water. We were having a cook out to celebrate my dad’s remission with all of our friends and everyone went inside to go eat but Jackson wouldn't get out of the water, so I offered to stay out with him."

Tate stops talking for a moment. He steadies his breathing, calming and preparing himself for what he is about to say. "I was picking Jackson up and throwing him into the shallow end. He loved it and kept asking me to do it again so I would. Only the last time I threw him really hard and high. He hit his head on the steps and got knocked out, only I didn't know it. So he was just lying there, face down in the pool and I was calling his name but he wasn't moving or answering me," Tate's voice cracked as he recalled the painful memories that have been locked away for so long.

Tate looks at me, his eyes bloodshot and single strands of tears streamed down his cheeks. I cradled his face and my hands, wiping away the little droplets of salt water with the back of my thumb, like he's down for me so many times. I kiss his wet lips once to comfort him and to let him know that it was okay before allowing him continue with the end of the tragic story.

"My mom came out because she heard me yelling and she was the one the pulled him out of the water. I was paralyzed, I couldn't do anything. I was so scared. I watched her go into doctor mode; I'd never seen it before. She was so calm and collected, like all of her emotions were put on hold while she checked my brother’s pulse then started CPR. Everyone else was gathered around them and people were calling 911 and I was still in the pool, I didn't know what to do. Finally my dad saw me and came in and got me. He just told me that it wasn't my fault, but I knew that it was. The police and medic came and started giving orders and they rushed my brother and mom away in the ambulance. My dad and I went to the hospital in his car but when we got there it was too late."

Finally it was my turn to talk, "Tate it was an accident. You didn't do it on purpose. You didn't kill Jackson."

"Yes I did. If I hadn't of thrown him that hard he would still be here, and so would my dad."

"Your dad died of cancer, that wasn't your fault either."

"Yes it was. He was depressed that Jackson died and when the cancer came back, he wouldn't fight because he wanted to be with Jackson. And if I hadn't of killed him he would have fought and he would have won and I would still have my family. My brother and my real dad would still be here and I would be happy and I wouldn't have to wake up every day hating myself because I know that it's my fault that I ruined everything."

"Tate, you don't know that. Even if your dad did fight it still might have been too much and he would have died anyways."

"Whatever," Tate got up and stormed out of the room. I didn't know where he was going but I decided not to follow him. He needed to cool off and be by himself for a while.

I lay back down and thought about what just happened. Tate confessed to killing his brother. Not purposefully killing him, but he was the reason why he is dead. This news didn't make me want to be with him any less. Actually, I wanted to be with Tate more. I wanted to show him that despite how badly he thinks badly about himself, I only see him as good.

I toss the covers back and pump out of bed, not bothering properly dressing or even putting on shoes before I rush out of the bedroom and head out to search for Tate.

I didn't have to look far; Tate was sitting in his truck with the ignition running in the garage. The driver’s side door was wide open, with a small pile of cigarette butts forming on the floor. Tate threw another one onto the pile while putting another unlit one into his mouth. I get into the passenger’s side and watch him fumble with the lighter before holding it against the cigarette in his mouth and watching it ignite. He takes a large drag of it before pulling it from his lips. I notice the empty pack on the dashboard.

"Chain smoking is every attractive," I say sarcastically.

"I smoke or have sex when I'm in a bad mood and since I'm not having sex, I'm going to smoke. Or are you going to make me quit that too?"

I feel sad that Tate is upset but he has no right taking it out on me, "Whatever Tate. If you're going to be like that when I'm trying to help you then I'll leave."

I open the door again and jump out. "Wait," Tate says as I go to shut the door.

"What?" I ask hopefully.

"I want my shirt back."

"You're such a prick," I sneer.

"Now," He holds out his hand.

I roll my eyes and lift the fabric over my head, leaving me standing in the open garage in my bra, shorts and socks. Tate grins wildly. "You can leave now."

I roll my eyes and head back into the house. I grab all of my clothes from the dresser and start shoving them into bags. I yank the clothes out of the closet, breaking some of the hangers and shove them into bags as well. I change into what I was wearing earlier in the day before lugging everything downstairs in one trip.

I load everything in the trunk of my car. Tate has gotten out of the truck to watch me struggle. He put his last cigarette up to his mouth and I watched him take another puff then blowing the smoke out of his mouth. My anger builds and before I know it I'm charging in his direction with my fists clenched.

I rip the cancerous stick away from his mouth and throw it to the ground running my boot over it. I push Tate and he stumbles backwards taken by surprise. I push him again but he doesn't move so I hit his chest but Tate grabs my wrists and holds tight, hurting me.

"Let me go you fucking asshole. I hate you!" I scream accidentally spitting on him.

He doesn't let go of me as he wipes off my spit with his shoulder. His expression is cold and frightening but I won't let him know how scared of him I am.

"I was trying to help you. I was trying to be there for you but you won't let me," I scream again. "I'm just trying to show you that I care too, that I love you too but you won't let me! You think you don't deserve to be love but you do and I hate you because you're so stubborn and stupid!" I shout even louder, my tears blurring my vision but I don't care. "Let go of me!"

I go to kick him but he intertwines his leg with mine causing me to lose my balance. Tate keeps me from falling by clutching onto my wrists even tighter. "I hate you! I fucking hate you. Everyone is right about you, you are a freak!"

Tate roughly slams me against his truck. My hands are brought above my head and I'm lifted until only my tip toes are touching the ground. I try to kick away but Tate presses his body against my body making it even harder for me to move. "I hate you! You're worthless. You are nothing, you mean nothing to me," I say viciously through gritted teeth.

"You done yet?" He asks quietly.

I breathe heavily as we look at each other. Then suddenly Tate smashes my lips to his and a fire flames in the pit of my stomach. Tate lets go of my wrists and holds onto my waist. I curl my fingers into his hair and pull, like I did before. I hear him let out a low moan before he bites my bottom lip. We share several wet and heated kisses before our tongues slide against each other in a fight for dominance. Tate moves his hands under my lose shirt and slowly travels up my sides leaving behind inflamed goose bumps. I pull my legs up and around Tate's waist, pushing away from the truck in attempts to get even closer to him. Tate grinds his pelvis against mine and I feel him. I let out a moan into Tate's mouth.

Suddenly Tate grabs my thighs and my back is no longer pressed against his truck. He's carrying me into the house while I leave kisses along his jaw and down his neck. I take his earlobe in between my teeth and bite down lightly. This takes him by surprise and he almost drops me while rushing up the stairs. I kiss down his neck then kiss his Adams apple and the hollow spot where his collar bones come together before kissing back up his neck before reaching his lips again.

Tate pushes his door to his bedroom open and once we're in he kicks it closed with his foot. He drops me on his bed, pulls his shirt over his head and our lips connect once again as I lay back on the bed with Tate hovering over me. I feel his hands work their way under my shirt and cup my breast through my bra. I arch my back pushing them further into his hands. Tate removes his hand to grab the hem of my shirt to lift it up and over my head. He throws it to the spot on the floor where he left his shirt before tracing his lips along my collarbone and down to my cleavage.

I grind my hips against the bugle straining against Tate's jeans. I am silently cursing myself that I changed my shorts to a thicker material. Tate flips down the cup of my bra, pushing up my breast. I feel his hot breath on my nipple before his takes it lightly in his mouth making me cry out with lust. He does the same with the other cup and takes my nipple in between his fingers and twists.

I can barely take it I needed him inside me now. Timidly I remove my fingers from his hair and lightly dig my nails down Tate's chest to the hem of his jeans. First I feel him outside of his jeans, he doesn't stop me, and instead he pushes himself harder into my hand. I quickly unbutton and unzip his pants before pushing the denim down his legs leaving him in his boxers.

Tate breaks contact with my skin but only for a short second before returning to kiss down my stomach. He bites down on the flesh between my navel and the hem of my shorts making me shiver. He unbuttons and then unzipped my shorts slowly. He placed another small kiss where the material of my panties and skin meet.

My breath becomes erratic as Tate pulls the shorts further and further down my legs until I am in nothing but a bra and my underwear. He looks up at lustfully. I stare back at him, biting my lip playfully. He brings his lips to mine again to kiss my lightly and I feel something change. There is no longer the same amount of passion there was before. He senses my concern and says, "So close too."

"What?" I ask frantically once he rolls off of me. He doesn't answer. "What are you doing? Why are you stopping?"

"We're not having sex."

"You don't get to decide that. You can't just do all of that and quit."

"Cori, your first time is not going to be make up sex."

"Then why do that? Why even bother taking off my clothes and touching me like that if we aren't going to do it."

"I'm a guy; I got caught up in the moment."

"I hate you," I say rudely getting up to find my clothes.

Tate gets up too and puts on his jeans. He doesn't bother buttoning them, I can still see the slight outline of his package and I'm having trouble thinking straight while looking at him. He lets me finishing dressing before he touches me again. He makes sure his hands stay on only the fabric area. I roll my eyes, annoyed at him.

"You don't hate me. You're just annoyed that it's the second time that I've shut you down."

"Yeah, why do you keep doing that?"

"We are fighting and I don't want you to end up resenting me because your first time was during a fight."

"We're not fighting."

"Okay, before all of this you said that you hated me and then you said you hated me afterwards. Those are fighting words." I roll my eyes at him. "And rolling your eyes will start another fight."

I roll my eyes again in spite. "Whatever, I did the right thing and you're still pissed at me."

I walk out of Tate's grasp and he doesn't stop me from walking out of the room. I know our fight isn't over and leaving will just make things worse. I head for the kitchen and try to find something to make. I needed to go to the store again but I decide to make best of what I had.

Steve comes home soon after I start making dinner; I smile at him as he hurries into his study. Tate comes down soon after; he sits on the counter by the stove and watches me cook. I ignore him the best I can. I form the meatloaf in a pan then pop it into the oven. I wash my hands, dry them off and take a seat on the island counter top, across from Tate. I swing my legs back and forth as we stare each other, both of us refusing to blink or say the first word.

I was mad because he got mad at me trying to comfort him. I'm mad at him for being such an ass to me then teasing me. I break contact by looking down at my wrists; they were turning nice shades of black, blue and purple in the form of hand prints. I look up at Tate again, who is staring at my wrists. Tate slides off the counter and takes one of my wrist in his hand to examine it.

"I hurt you," he mumbles.

"No you didn't," I lied.

"Yes I did. Cori, I'm so sorry, please believe me."

"I believe you," I take my wrist from his grasp.

"You were just coming at me and I was just restraining you, you got to understand where I'm coming from. You kept punching me and I didn't know what to do."

"I know, it was my fault," I snap.

"No it was my fault, I provoked you. I'm sorry, so sorry. I know you were just trying to cheer me up and comfort me but I lashed out. That is a really sensitive subject for me and I don't like talking about it. So can we put this in the past and forgive me?"

"I forgive you."

Tate and I kiss as Liz walks through the hall. "I see all is well," she smiles and walks into the study to join her husband.

Tate looks at me quizzically and I told him about talking to his mom.

I know that Tate and I have a lot to work out and we're not done talking out this fight we had but for now we're both happy and all is right in the world once again.