“Love, lust, I don’t know, wanting what you can’t have? Anyway, it’s probably killing him that when she finally came back to town, she didn’t even bat her eyes at him once. He probably had his mind made up that Liz would finally pick him; what a blow to the ballsack when she came back and picked the biggest asshole there was.” She paused and smiled. “No offense.”
“Some taken.”
I swung her around once and pulled her close to me. “For the record, though.” Faye’s grin switched wider. “I don’t think you’re a complete jerk anymore, so in a few weeks we are having a birthday party for Liz and you’re invited. It’s just going to be about getting her to dance on bar counters and be free from the mind demons that take over her for a little while, and I am giving you full permission to touch her vagina that night.”
I laughed. “That’s really kind of you.”
“What can I say?” She smirked. “I’m a solid friend.”
After the dance with Faye, I found a seat in the back corner of the room and tried to absorb everything I’d been told. I watched Elizabeth talking to Sam before she hugged him and he headed out of the building. I guessed their night together was over. Good. When Elizabeth walked over, I couldn’t even deny the way my heart skipped.
“It looked like you and Faye were getting along well,” she said, sitting beside me.
“The same could be said about you and Tanner,” I replied.
“That’s not the same. Tanner and I are just friends. So what… Did she ask you to have sex with her? I bet you said yes. But I don’t think you should with all the issues you’re dealing with.” She bit her bottom lip. “But did she ask you?”
I cocked an eyebrow at her sassy expression. “Is that a real question?”
“I’m just saying, I don’t think sticking your penis inside a woman is a great way to cope with the stress of your life.”
“But isn’t that what you and I were doing?” I argued.
“And it didn’t work out too well, did it?”
Faye was right. Clarity filled my head as I took in Elizabeth’s features. Her face was flushed and she kept running her hands against her legs. Our gaze met. I edged my chair closer to her and placed her legs in between mine. Leaning in toward her, I whispered, “I get it now.”
I watched a sigh roll from her lips as she studied our proximity. “Get what?”
“You’re jealous.”
She huffed loudly and laughed. “Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous, Narcissus.”
Giving her a soft, therapist tone, I took her hands into mine. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s completely normal to at some point develop feelings for one’s neighbor. Why would you think that’s ridiculous?”
She yanked her hands from mine and it took everything in me to not crack up laughing in her face at how red she was turning. “Why? You want all the reasons why? Well, for starters, lately you haven’t shaven and you look like a lumberjack, which is repulsive. With your beanie hat and your thick beard, I’m semi-surprised you’re not wearing plaid. Do you even shower?”
“I shower. If you want, we could go back to my place and shower together to save water.”
“Look at you being an environmental activist and all.”
“Not really. I just love making you wet.” Her cheeks blushed as I studied the few freckles dappling her face. She was so damn beautiful. “Plus,” I said, trying to break my thoughts away from the fact that I was feeling for her everything I hoped she was feeling for me. “I saw the Timber app on your cell phone. You don’t have to hide your love for lumberjacks. No one’s judging you out loud. Mostly it’s silent, side-eye judgment, but really, that doesn’t even count.”
“The app was a trending topic on the side of my Facebook page, Tristan! Faye made me get it, and I was curious, that’s all!” She was getting redder and redder by the second, and my body was starting to react to being so close to hers. I wanted to press my hands against her heated cheeks to feel her warmth. I wanted to lay my fingers against her chest and feel her heart pound from nerves. I wanted to taste her lips…
“What’s the deal with you and Tanner?” I asked once more.
“I told you, he and I are just friends.”
“It looked like more from the way he held you.”
She laughed, looking at the ground. “Who’s jealous now?”
“I am.”
“What?” Her head rose, and she met my stare.
“I said I’m jealous. I’m jealous of the way his hand lay against your back. I’m jealous of the way he made you laugh. I’m jealous of the way his words filled your ears. I’m jealous that for those few moments he got to stare into those eyes, and I had to stand back and watch it all unfold.”
“What are you doing?” she said, her breaths short, confused. My lips were lingering inches away from hers. Her hands were resting against my jeans. My hands were lying against her fingers. We were so close I was almost certain she was sitting in my lap and I could hear her heartbeats.
The room around us was loud as always. People were getting drunk, people were eating, and people were discussing mediocre shit in a mediocre way. But my eyes…they were trained on her lips. On the curves of her mouth. On the color of her skin. On her.
“Tris, stop,” she whispered against my skin, but she inched her body closer. It seemed she was as confused as I was, her body going against what her mind was demanding she do.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I begged her. Turn me away.
“It’s…I…” She was stuttering, her eyes on my mouth. Her voice was shaking, and I could hear her fears loud and clear, but somewhere within those fears and doubts was a small whisper of hope. I wanted to hold onto that as long as I could. I wanted to feel the hope she kept locked away deep in her soul. “Tristan… Do you…” She chuckled nervously and ran her fingers back and forth against her forehead. “Do you ever think of me? I mean…” Her tongue stumbled and she went silent. Her nerves were eating at her thoughts, jumbling them. “Do you ever think of me in a way that is more than a friendship?” When she looked into my eyes, she had to see the answer. I felt her soul staring deep into mine. Her eyes were full of wondering interest and her beauty was softened by an air of mystery.
I blinked once. “Every second. Every minute. Every hour. Every day.”
She nodded, closing her eyes. “Me too. Every second. Every minute. Every hour. Every day.”
Pull away, Tristan.
Pull away, Tristan.
Pull away, Tris…
“Lizzie,” I said, pulling her closer. “I want to kiss you. The real you. The sad you. The broken you.”
“That would change things.”
She was right. It would be crossing that invisible line that was dangling right in front of us. I’d kissed her before, but that was different. That was before I started falling for her. Falling and falling hard. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding and felt her do the same against my skin. “And what would happen if I didn’t kiss you?”
“I would hate you a little,” she said softly as I rested my lips millimeters away from hers. “I would hate you a lot.”
My lips pressed into hers as she arched her back and grabbed my T-shirt, pulling me closer. A light moan left her as I slid my tongue into her mouth and made love to her tongue. She kissed me hard, almost sliding into my lap, almost giving me all of her. “I want you to let me in,” she muttered against me. It took everything in me to not wrap my arms around her and take her back to my house and explore every inch of her body. I wanted to feel her wrapped around me. I wanted to feel myself deep inside her. I tugged on her bottom lip and she kissed me gently before pulling away. “I want to know who you are, Tristan. I want to know where you go when you get lost in your mind. I want to know what makes you shout in your dreams. I want to see the darkness in you that you fight daily to keep hidden. Can you do something for me?” she asked.
“Anything.”
Her hands fell to my heart, and she
watched my inhales and exhales against her fingertips. “Show me the part of you that you try to keep buried. Show me where it hurts the most. I want to see your soul.”
23
Elizabeth
He took me to the shed.
For the longest time, I’d wondered what it was he did inside those walls. After he unlocked it, he swung the two doors wide open. The space was dark and I couldn’t see anything until he pulled on a lamp cord, turning on a light. The room lit up as he led me inside.
“Charlie…” I muttered, staring around at a room that was set up like a mini library. The shelves were filled with novels, both children’s books and more classic tales such as To Kill a Mockingbird and a huge Stephen King collection. The bookshelves were all hand built, and I could tell Tristan was the one who’d built them.
There was one bookshelf that held only toys—dinosaurs, cars, toy soldiers.
Yet the toys and the bookshelves weren’t what shook me the most. I stared at the walls of the shed and studied the words carved into the wood. It looked as if he had filled the walls up with notes, with memories—with apologies.
“Every time I missed him…every time I thought of him, I carved it into the wood,” he explained as my fingertips ran across the painful words Tristan had only shared with himself…until now.
I’m sorry I left you.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there.
I’m sorry I didn’t let you read certain books.
I’m sorry I never took you fishing.
I’m sorry you’ll never fall in love.
I wish I could forget.
I miss you…
“Plus,” he whispered. “Jamie always wanted me to build her a library; I always put it off for tomorrow. I thought I had more time, but sometimes tomorrow never comes and you’re only left with the memories of yesterdays.”
When I found his stare, he tried his best to blink his emotion away. I could see the pain that still lived fresh in his mind, in his heart. I stepped toward him. “It wasn’t your fault, Tristan.”
He shook his head in disagreement. “It was. If I hadn’t been running around trying to start a stupid career, I could’ve been there. I could’ve kept them alive.”
“What happened? What happened to them?”
His head lowered. “I can’t. I can’t talk about that day.”
I lifted his face to find his stare. “That’s fine. I get it. But, I just want you to know that it wasn’t your fault, Tristan. I need you to understand that. You were the best father and husband you could be.” His eyes told me he didn’t believe me. I hoped one day he would. “What was the hardest part for you when you lost them? What was your lowest moment that first week?”
A hesitation hit him as his lips parted to speak. “The day before their funeral I tried to kill myself,” he whispered, extremely raw and uncut. “I sat in my parents’ bathroom and I tried to end my life.”
Oh, Tristan…
“I remember staring at myself in the mirror, knowing that my heart had died right along with them. I knew I was dead. I’ve been dead ever since, ya know? I was okay with that. I was okay with being mean and callous, because I was convinced that I didn’t deserve to have people care for me. I pushed my parents away because I was my own ghost. I wanted so much to be dead, because I felt like it would be better, easier. But then you came, and I started to remember what it felt like to exist.” His lips lay against mine, and my heartbeats sped up. His voice was giving me chills. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“It’s easier with you.”
“What’s easier with me?”
His hand found my lower back. My hips arched toward him, our bodies slowly becoming one. He ran his fingers against my neck as I closed my eyes, and he spoke softly into my soul. “Being alive.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re good, Tris. You’re good enough. Even on the days you feel worthless.”
“Can I see your soul now?” he asked. I nodded, nervously, and I led him inside my house.
“Love letters?” he asked, sitting on my couch as I opened the heart-shaped tin box.
“Yes.”
“From Steven to you?”
I shook my head. “My mama wrote them to my dad, and he wrote them back to her, almost every day since they met. After he passed away, I would read these every day. Just as a way to remember him. But then one day, Mama threw them out. I found them…and I still read them all the time.”
He nodded in understanding as he picked one up and read it. “You’re sleeping beside me and each second I love you a little more.—HB.”
That one always made me smile. “They weren’t always happy like that. There were some things I didn’t even know about my parents until I started reading these letters.” I went digging into the box for a certain one. “Like this one. ‘I know you think you’re less of a woman. I know you think you’re less of a woman and blame your body for our loss. I know you think you’re less of a woman because of what the doctors said. But you’re wrong. You’re strong, wise, and unbreakable. You are more than a woman. You are everything beautiful in the world, and I am a mere man lucky to call you my goddess. –KB.’ I didn’t even know they lost a child before me. I didn’t know…” I smiled tightly at Tristan, who was taking it all in. “Anyway. My parents are where I first saw true love. I just wish Steven and I had written each other letters. It would’ve been nice.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
I nodded, because I was too.
I closed the tin box and moved closer to him on the couch.
“How did your mom handle losing him?” he asked.
“She didn’t. She used men to forget. She lost herself the day she lost my father. It’s just sad because, well, I miss her.”
“I miss my parents. After Jamie and Charlie passed away, I ran away from them because they were comforting, and I didn’t think I deserved their comfort.”
“Maybe you could give them a call.”
“I don’t know…” he whispered. “I’m still not sure I deserve their comfort yet.”
“Soon, though.”
“Yeah. Maybe soon. So…” he said, changing the subject. “What was the hardest part for you that week? What was your lowest?”
“Um, telling Emma. I didn’t even do it right away either. The first night I lay in her bed holding her, and she asked when daddy was coming home. I broke down crying, and that was when it became real for me. That’s when I knew my life would never be the same again.” Tristan reached out and ran his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away the tears I hadn’t known had fallen. “It’s okay,” I promised. “I’m good.”
He shook his head. “You’re not.”
“I am. I’m good. I’m good.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to be good all the times. It’s okay to be hurt sometimes. It’s okay to feel lost like you’re wandering around in the dark. It’s the bad days that make the good ones so much better.”
My hands ran through his hair, and I set my lips against his. “Kiss me,” I whispered, placing my fingers against his chest, taking in the feeling of his heart resting in my hands.
He hesitated. “If I kiss you, we can’t go back. If I kiss you…I’ll never want to stop.”
My tongue slowly danced across his bottom lip and then I used it to part his mouth as I spoke in a whisper, “Kiss me.” His hands moved to my lower back, and he pulled me closer to him. He started to rub my back in a circular motion. We were so close together that it was hard to tell if we were two separate people or one soul discovering its inner flame for the first time.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Kiss me.”
“Lizzie…”
A small smile spread across my mouth as I laid a finger against his lips. “I’m only going to tell you this one last time, Tristan. Kiss—”
I didn’t have to finish my words, and I hardly remembered him carrying me to my bedroom.
My back lay against my dresser as
he boxed me in. He tightened his grip around my waist and our lips met within a moment’s time. His mouth tasted every inch of mine as he deepened our connection. His fingers traveled up my spine, sending chills throughout me. He leaned in closer, and his tongue parted my lips, finding my tongue ready to dance with his. His arms wrapped tighter around me, and I dug my fingers into his back, holding on to him as if he was my favorite thing in the world. He is. My head tilted to the side as my hands became tangled in his hair, forcing him to kiss me deeper, harder, faster…
“Tristan,” I moaned against him, and he growled into me. My hand fell to the bottom of his shirt, and I slid it up, feeling the tight body he hid underneath. I loved how he felt. I loved how he tasted. I love how I am falling in love with him.
I didn’t know it was possible. I didn’t know the broken pieces of a heart could still beat for love.
He lifted me up, his hands clasping around my behind, and he sat me on the edge of my mattress. His breaths were rushed, his hunger clear. “I want you so much, Lizzie.” He sighed as his mouth sucked on my ear before he rolled his tongue across my chin and landed his lips against mine. The way he tongued my mouth as if he was trying to find every inch of me, every taste made me moan into him as he began to slide his hands under my dress. I watched as he slid my panties down my hips and tossed them to the side of the room. He edged me closer to his body and spread my legs, allowing me to feel his hardness. The longing look in his eyes made me smile. I knew right then that he would always make me smile.
His fingers gripped the edge of my dress, and he slowly moved it up, studying every inch of me, every curve. “Arms,” he ordered in a deep snarl, and I lifted my hands up as he took the dress off and tossed it next to my panties. “Beautiful,” he muttered before bending down and kissing my neck. Each time his lips connected to my skin, I felt my heartbeats racing. His tongue followed the curve of my bra as he reached behind me, unhooking it and throwing it to the pile. He sent shivers through my body as his thumbs circled my hardening nipples.
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