Chapter Four

Weldon

My boy looked so sweet as he sipped the soup from the spoon in my hand. After each bite, his tongue swiped across his lips to collect any rogue drops of broth. I was sure he had enough strength to feed himself, but I was thoroughly enjoying caring for him.

And it was obvious Tatum enjoyed it, too. He watched with anticipation each time I dipped the spoon in the broth, and his lips sprung apart when the bite neared. Though I doubted he had any experience with this lifestyle, he was made for it, just as he was made for me.

After about half of the broth was gone, I noticed Tatum slowing down, so I stilled my hand. “Are you getting full?” When he nodded, I put the bowl down on the nightstand. The poison’s effects would be worn off by now, but he needed to heal. I didn’t want to push him too far and get his stomach upset again. “You did great.” His answering smile was stunning.

“Thank you; for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I assured him.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

Now that he was doing better, and since he brought it up, I couldn’t fight my curiosity any longer. I wanted to know everything about him, starting with, “What were you doing all alone in the woods?”

Tatum’s expression dropped, and his eyes fell to his lap. “I had nowhere to go. My dad threw me out of his house because I…I did something bad.”

Fury bolted through me towards his father, whom I’d never met. I didn’t even know the situation, but it didn’t matter. I was surely biased because of our bond, but I couldn’t imagine this little sweetheart doing anything wrong. I kept my anger under wraps and asked, “What happened?”

Tatum was silent for a few moments before lifting his gaze to mine. His eyes were wide and nervous. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you won’t want me here, either.”

He didn’t yet know that I’d stand with him against anyone and anything. I would never turn my back on him, and would protect and support him for all time. “I promise nothing you say could make that true.” I didn’t care about his past. I only wanted to better his future.

He took a deep breath and replied, “I quit my job.”

I blinked at him, unsure how to react. I didn’t want to diminish his story, but…there didn’t seem to be a story. I tried to come up with words of comfort, but I had nothing to go on, and my confusion won out. “That’s all?”

“Well…no. But that’s where it started. Well…not really. It started before that, I guess. But it made everything worse. And what I did afterwards made it even worse .”

Tatum sighed and dropped his head into his hands. My sweet boy was having a hard time getting his words together. Needing to comfort him, I instinctively pulled him onto my lap, and his body sagged against me with relief.

“Take your time,” I said quietly into his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.” I caressed my hand up and down his arm as Tatum snuggled against my bare chest as he gathered his thoughts before starting at the beginning.

“My relationship with my dad has been strained as long as I can remember, but I was always very close to my mom. She was my best friend and we did everything together. It grated on my dad’s nerves; he said she coddled me, and maybe she did.” He shrugged against me and I hugged him tighter.

“She passed away in a car accident shortly after I graduated high school. It tore my world apart. I fell into a deep depression and was barely functioning. I rarely left my room.” My heart broke for him. I could feel his pain from his words, and I wished I could take it away.

“That put even more space between my dad and me. He was hurting too, but we couldn’t connect. And life went on for him. He continued to work and keep up the house while I could barely move. Dad finally had enough. He said I needed to get up and make something of myself instead of wallowing in self pity.”

Anger tore through me again. Tatum needed support and understanding from his father, not disdain. It seemed far too minor, but I offered, “I’m sorry he said that.”

“I think he was trying to help me,” he shrugged again. “He was trying to push me forward. He ended up contacting one of his friends who managed a fast food restaurant, who pulled some strings and got me a job. He said it was time for me to start pulling my weight, and I went to work.

“I got very little training. The restaurant was very busy, and they basically handed me an apron and told me to help. I didn’t know where things were, and I was having trouble filling the orders. Other workers were yelling that I was moving too slowly. I quickly got overwhelmed and went into the breakroom to try and catch my breath.” His cheeks reddened when he added, “And to try to keep from crying. I didn’t want anyone to see that.”

I kissed the top of Tatum’s head and he continued, “The manager found me and accused me of slacking off. He said I was only there as a favor to my dad, but he didn’t have time for a charity case. He told me to get my shit together and get back to work before storming out of the room. I got scared and even more upset, and…I ran out the back door and drove home.” My chest ached at the guilt and shame in his voice.

“The manager should have given you the right training and guidance to do your job,” I insisted. “You’d never been in an environment like that, and shouldn’t have been expected to just be able to jump in and know what to do. It’s understandable why you needed a break, and why you left. You should never stay somewhere you feel unsafe or uncomfortable.”

Tatum burrowed deeper into my hold, as if trying to envelop himself in my care and compassion. “That wasn’t how my father felt. When he got home from work, he was furious. He said his friend called and told him what happened, and that I had embarrassed and disappointed him.”

“And that’s when he kicked you out?” I assumed. Tatum’s blush darkened, and he was quiet for several moments before answering.

“He was so mad, but I don’t think he was going to tell me to leave…until he saw what was in my hands.” He went quiet again, but I didn’t push, allowing him to tell me on his own time. “There’s…there’s something you don’t know about me.”

We’d arrived at whatever Tatum was scared to tell me. It didn’t matter what he’d been holding. It didn’t matter what he’d done. I kissed the side of his head, reminding him that I wasn’t going anywhere, and I’d never ask him to leave.

“I like things that I shouldn’t,” he began, not looking me in the eyes. “Things I should have stopped liking a long time ago. But I can’t stop liking them - especially when I’m scared or sad. I was holding…” He took a deep breath before finishing, “Play-Doh.” I blinked again. Of all the things he could have said, I wasn’t expecting that one.

“I know it’s weird,” Tatum continued quickly. “I know I’m too old, but it makes me happy. I love the smell of it, and squishing it in my hands helps calm me down. That’s what I was trying to do when my dad found me. But seeing me with the toy enraged him.

“He said it was the last straw; that he'd put up with the fact that I was gay - which I didn't even know was a problem. Apparently, he'd held his tongue out of respect for my mom, but he ‘didn't agree with my disgusting lifestyle’. I guess that's why he was distant with me. He said he also had to deal with me being lazy and pathetic, but he'd be damned if he was going to allow me to act like a child under his roof. He told me to get out; that it would force me to grow up, and the world would make a man out of me.”

I couldn't hold my anger back any longer. My voice was a husky growl when I spat, “ That's disgusting.” Tatum's eyes immediately welled up as he pulled away, and I realized he misunderstood me. I wrapped him tightly in my arms and clarified, “Not you, baby bear; never you. It's disgusting the way your father treated you. No matter his opinion, he's still your family. He could disagree and still be kind. You deserved so much better than that.”

He gave me a shaky smile, which faded as he tucked his lip between his teeth in worry. “He didn't even know about everything,” Tatum confessed quietly. “I didn't just have Play-Doh; I had several toys hidden away. I'd play with them late at night, or when he wasn't around. They eased my mind, and surrounded me with a safe space. When I played, my sadness lifted, and I felt at peace.”

“That's beautiful.” I was happy he’d found solace in simplicity, and I couldn't wait to watch him play.

Tatum lifted his wide eyes. “Really?”

I nodded and replied, “There are countless ways to relax and unwind. Some people exercise, some people read, and others play. It doesn't matter how old you are. It matters how you feel.”

He looked at me as if I hung the moon. “What if it isn't just toys that I like? What if it's…other stuff too?”

“What kind of other stuff?” I had a good idea, but I wanted to hear it from his pretty lips.

Tatum swallowed hard as his gaze skittered away again. “Well, I'd never tried them before, but for a long time, I've dreamed of things like diapers and sippy cups. I know you were just being kind and helpful, and I should've told you sooner. I'm sorry I didn't, and I hope I haven't made you mad or upset. I will leave if you want me to.”

I cupped his cheek and turned his face to look at me. “Baby bear, there's a reason why I had those things for you to use.”

His jaw dropped when realization hit him. “I guess I was too sick to question it at first. Then I was too grateful and excited. So that means you like them too?”

I didn't think his eyes could get any larger, but he proved me wrong when I answered, “Not for myself.”

“So that means…you're…you're a…”

“A Daddy,” I supplied when he struggled.

“Oh no.” Okay, that wasn't the reaction I was hoping for. “I'm using someone else's things.”

Thankfully, it was an easy fix. “No, Tatum; these things are all yours. I've been gathering special items to share with my very special boy.”

“And you think that's me?”

“I know it's you,” I corrected. “From the moment I heard your voice from up in that tree, I knew you were the one for me.” The words struck my curiosity. “How did you end up in the woods?”

“When Dad told me to leave, he made me leave my phone and car keys behind. He only let me take the clothes on my back. I didn't have any money for a place to stay, so I decided to camp out in the nearby woods until I found another job and saved up some cash.”

He added sheepishly, “We used to go camping a lot when I was younger, and I remember how to pitch a tent. I…took it from Dad's shed without permission. I was too afraid to sleep in the woods without some kind of shelter.”

I was proud of him for looking out for his needs. The ironic, fucked up thing was that I knew his father would be proud as well. Because that was his whole sick purpose of dismissing Tatum; to force him to take initiative. Yes, Tatum was an adult, but there were other ways to help him. Instead of speaking with him or giving guidance, his father instilled guilt and went to extremes.

I wondered how Tatum’s life would have been different if his mother survived. He would surely be happier with her support and love, but I would give him those things and more. I couldn’t help but wonder how she would react to his needs, and took a leap to ask, “Did you ever tell your mom about the things you like?”

“I told her everything,” he replied quietly. “But not until I’d figured everything out for myself. I researched if something was wrong with me, and whether or not there were other people like me out in the world.” It broke my heart to hear that Tatum had assumed his desires were ‘wrong’. “I learned all about littles and Daddies. I was so excited, but nervous at the same time. I knew I needed to talk to someone; to her. I could always talk to her about everything. One day we were out to lunch, and I blurted it all out.”

“What happened?” I asked, praying she had a better reaction than his father.

Tatum’s eyes grew misty as he answered, “She didn’t fully understand, but she also didn’t judge. She said that all she ever wanted for me was happiness, and that she wished for me to find the best Daddy in the world.”

Relief rushed through me, along with sadness. “I wish I could have met her. She sounds like a remarkable woman.” What a great place the world would be if more people were like her; offering kindness instead of hate.

“I asked her not to tell Dad; I didn’t think he could handle it, and she agreed. I hated hiding a part of myself, but I knew once I was out on my own, I could fully live the way I wished. But after I lost her, I just couldn't move on. I was broken, and not strong enough to leave the place where we'd made so many memories.”

I kissed the side of his head and hugged him tighter, but made sure I wasn't hurting him. “I want to hear all of your memories of her.” I hoped talking about them would bring him comfort.

“One of my favorites happened about five years ago. It was finals week of my sophomore year, and I was stressed about my math test. Mom helped me study every night, and she could tell how nervous I was. The evening before my exam, I went into my bedroom and found the container of Play-Doh on my pillow. I squished and molded it for hours before I fell asleep, and the next day, I was relaxed and focused enough to ace my test.”

I could understand why it was his favorite memory; his mother saw and accepted him for exactly who he was. She let him know that his desires were okay, and gifted him something that brought him comfort for years.

I wondered if his relationship with his mom helped mold his needs. Tatum said she coddled him with love and support, so it wasn't a big leap to assume he looked for the same in a romantic relationship. Not that he needed a reason; people liked what they liked and didn't owe an explanation. But it was obvious she instilled high standards when it came to love, and I was glad for it. My boy deserved the best.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, and for being so open about everything. That was very brave and I'm so proud of you.” Tatum gave me a beautiful smile as he soaked in my praise.

“You're easy to talk to,” he replied, which was great praise as well. “I feel like I can tell you anything.”

“You can. You're safe with me, Taterbug.” He sighed happily and rested his head on my chest. The need to tell him secrets of my own swelled inside me until it became overwhelming. I didn't want to hide anything from him; I wanted our relationship to be honest and transparent. I trusted that my mate would accept me. “I've got something to tell you, too.”