“That’s unnecessary because Tatum is coming with me.”  The venom behind the words is unintentional.  I’m edgy and tired, and it comes out all wrong.  I realize this when both their heads whip around in my direction.

“No, I’m not,” she responds.

“What’s gotten into you, man?”

“Nothing,” I scrub my hand over the two day stubble on my cheek.  “It’s just been a long few days, and Tatum and I need to sort out some things,” I lie.

“Relax, man.  I’ll get her home in a bit.  If she’s not ready it’s no big deal.  You won’t sort out much tonight, anyway.  It’s one a.m.”

It’s hard to argue when he sounds so logical, but he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on.  Desperately, I pin my eyes to Tatum imploring her to give up on this stand-off.  We both need sleep and a chance to settle our thoughts.

She sighs dramatically.  I don’t know if it’s because of the liquor or if it’s just to bother me.  But it fucking bothers me.

“It’s okay.  He’s right, we do need to talk.”  She looks back at me for one half second before she turns back to Trey.  “It was nice meeting you and thanks for the offer,” she says, leaning a bit closer to him.

Fuck, she better not.  A sickening warmth spreads rapidly through my chest.

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” Trey purrs.

Damnit to hell.

Tatum leans in to Trey, planting a soft kiss against his dark lips, and the bastard reciprocates.  Jealousy and rage hit me like a swift double tap to the gut, and I physically struggle to remain upright and not lunge at the two of them.  This is what I get for getting involved with Tatum and her childish little games.  Forget it.  She can walk home.  I jam my arms into my coat and stalk off towards the door without a backwards glance.

Once I’m outside, I bring my fist down into the brick side of the building, and the pain ricochets up my arm, straight into my elbow.  Now I have something else to focus on besides the burning ache in my gut.

Just as I put the car into reverse and back out of my space, Tatum comes waltzing out of the front door.  Half of me wants to take off and leave her there, but I can’t do that.  She wants to play games?  Fine, but all she did was solidify in my mind that she’s too immature for me.  And this is wrong.

I slam the car to a stop in front of her, and she just stares at me.  Sighing, I roll down the passenger side window.

“Get in.”

The grin she was sporting inside is wiped off her face as she climbs in the passenger side.  She doesn’t say a word as I peel out onto the dark highway.

It’s hard to ignore glancing at her as we drive silently down the highway, but I keep replaying their kiss in my mind.  Those images are more than enough to extinguish the urge.  It hurts more than it should.  She’s my student, I remind myself for the hundredth time tonight.  I don’t have a right to feel this way about her.

“How mad are you?” She asks when we’re about ten minutes from home.

“Pretty damn mad.”

“Why do you care if you think it’s so wrong for us?”

I cut her a hard glare before returning my eyes to the road.  “It is wrong.”

“Then why do you care?”

“Because I do.”

“But why, Jacoby.  Tell me why.”

“BECAUSE I DO!”

Tatum instantly falls quiet and turns her stare out the window instead.  It takes mere seconds for the guilt to kick in.  But what was I supposed to tell her?  The truth?  The truth isn’t going to get us anywhere, because the reality is that we can’t have that kind of relationship.  And she knows it.  Her little mind games aren’t fair.

When we get inside, Tatum heads into her bedroom while I stop off in the kitchen for a water.  I hear her shuffling around so I walk back to investigate and feel another rush of guilt when I peer inside her door.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my shit together.”

“You don’t need to leave.”

“Yes I do,” she responds without looking at me.  Her face appears almost stricken as she packs up the few items of clothing into the backpack she brought from her apartment today.  It’s hard to believe that was just this morning.  In less than 24 hours, I made her feel uncomfortable staying here when she has nowhere else to go.  Way to go, moron.

“Tatum, stop.  Put your things down.  I want you to stay.”

“No, you don’t.  I’m a burden to you.”

“You’re not a burden at all.”

“Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

“You’re being unreasonable.  Listen to me.”

“No!”  She finally pauses her packing to look up at me, her hazel eyes holding a new fire I didn’t know they were capable of making.  I don’t let myself miss the way the backpack hangs limply in her hand in defeat.  My heart stutters to a halt.

“You made it clear that anything between us is wrong.  Even though I’m eighteen and have been living like an adult for the past year and am clearly capable of making my own decisions.  It’s uncomfortable for the both of us now, and you know it.  I need to leave.  I can’t stay here and hide out for the rest of my life.  ”

My arms are braced on either side of the doorframe as I watch her resume packing her things.  I wish I knew the right words to say to get her to stay, but she’s made up her mind.  This is all my fault.  “But where will you go?”

“I’ll call Emerson.  And if I can’t stay there, I’ll call my friend from work.”

“And if that doesn’t work out either?” I prod.

She looks up at me again, locking her eyes with mine.  “Then I’ll go back to my apartment.”

“But what about Wyatt?  I don’t think you’ve let enough time pass.”

“What about him?  He doesn’t have a key.  The most he can do is sit around and mess with my car.  I’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t sound so sure earlier.  What changed?”  My fingers grip the doorframe painfully.  I’m desperate for her to stay.  Please, please stay.

“We did, Mr. Ryan.  We changed.”  She sounds so defeated.  Abruptly, she picks up her bag and walks towards me, stopping before where I’m blocking the door.  “Please move.”

Without saying a word, I turn to my side, giving her space to pass through.  And she does.  Tatum walks straight out and into the garage, starts her car, and drives away.

It doesn’t hit me until after she leaves that Tatum probably had too many drinks to drive.  I don’t even have her number to make sure she made it home okay.  Worrying about her safety and kicking myself for letting her leave, I wait not even two minutes before I leave my house to follow her home.

The whole drive over, I search every ditch and every side road for signs of an accident.  My head is filled with ‘what if’s’ as I contemplate all the things wrong with this scenario.

What if she gets pulled over?

What if she falls asleep driving?

What if she hits somebody?

What if Wyatt is waiting for her when she gets home?

The last one makes me force the gas pedal down harder.  Though, no matter how fast I drive, it won’t change what happened today.  I’m nothing but a fuckup.  I can’t even help a teenaged girl who asked for nothing but a place to stay.  I failed Harper, and now I’ve made one hell of a mess out of Tatum’s situation.  It’s best to leave the heroism to someone who’s actually capable.  I’ll drive over and make sure she’s home safe, then I’ll go back to being her calculus teacher.  She won’t even know I stopped by.

When I pull up to her apartment building, I curse.  Shit, I don’t actually know which unit is hers.  Her Honda is easy to spot, so at least I know she’s here, but that doesn’t really tell me if she’s safe.  What if Wyatt forced her into her apartment, and he’s holding her there?  My stomach churns.  I should never have let her leave, and now I don’t even know if she’s alright.

I park next to her car and climb out.  The doors are locked, and nothing seems amiss, although I don’t really know what I should be looking for.  There are several other cars in the lot, but none I remember seeing at the mechanics shop or the school the other day.  I hope that means he’s not here.