Chapter 18

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Megan glanced anxiously out the window for the 10th time that night. Inside of her a sick feeling was starting and she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She had watched Tate's truck leave almost five hours ago just after supper chores. She had been confused about where he was going, especially in the blizzard that was brewing. Now it was almost midnight and from what she could see the storm was brutal. She bit her lip and folded her hands, praying that he would make it back home safely from wherever he was. Half an hour headlights swung into the yard.

"Oh thank you God." She murmured and went to the door to greet him. Instead of coming to the house though, she watched Tate stumble to the bunkhouse. She squinted through the snow and watched him weave his way to the bunkhouse, stopping to lean on the wall before he opened the door.

"Oh don't tell me he's drunk!" Hot anger filled Megan as she quickly pulled on a jacket. Bracing herself for the wind and driving snow, she wheeled herself outside. After about ten minutes of struggling through the snow in her wheelchair, she was only halfway to the bunkhouse and she almost gave up. She gritted her teeth and pushed the wheels through the thick snow all the while being battered by the fierce wind. Finally she made it to the door and threw it open, wheeling herself over the threshold.

"Megan!" She turned her head to see Tate stumble from the bedroom with his shirt off and his pants undone. She drew a breath sharply in. He was muscled in a lean sort of way and had defined abs. She turned her head away, momentarily stunned, but then her anger resurfaced.

"Tate Simmons, just what do you think you are doing?" Her voice was loud and echoed around the small bunkhouse and he looked confused.

"Ain't I supposed to sleep here? Don't I work for you?" He looked like a child, all confused and droopy eyed, while supporting himself up by the doorway.

"Are you drunk Tate?" He scrunched up his nose.

"Maybe? Uhh.. yeah. Maybe." He laughed then and stumbled towards her. "You are so pretty Megan. You're like an angel." He reached out for her but she backed her chair away.

"Tate don't touch me. Stay away." His face fell with disappointment.

"But whyyyyyy?"

"What on earth gave you the idea to go out and get wasted in a blizzard? And then drive home? You could've been killed. I didn't think that you were this stupid Tate." Her words were cold and hard and she saw something like hurt pass through his happy carefree expression.

"But I was sad Megan. Everything hurt to much. I had to.. I had to..." He looked like he was going to fall over but before she could move towards him, he stood up a little straighter and waved his hand at her.

"What did you have to do Tate?" He face scrunched up and then to her shock, big tears started rolling down his face and he crumpled, sliding down the door frame.

"I had to numb the pain. But it didn't work. The girl didn't work. Nothing worked." Megan bit her lip as he mentioned a girl, pain shooting through her.

"I don't care that you went drinking and I don't care what happened there. Why did you drive home?" He looked at her with tears running down his cheeks.

"Because I had to come home to an angel. I didn't want... I didn't want her to think I left her. She worries about that. But she's so pretty. I would never leave her all by herself." He lapsed into sobs and she felt tears trickling down her own cheeks. Slowly she wheeled over to him.

"C'mon Tate. We have to get you into bed." She tugged at his hand and he sluggishly got to his feet and followed her into his room. Looking around, she noticed it was neat, with only a few dirty clothes hung over a chair. The room was bare of personal items except for his clothes. She looked away as he slid his pants down, leaving him in his boxers. She heard his body flop on the bed and when she turned he was staring at her.

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