Trinity (Moonstone Book 1)

by Andi Bremner

  “I have an idea,” I told her, “how do you feel about going to watch some live music?”

  Chapter Seven

  Trinity

  For a while, being with Luke, enjoying his company and the way he kept looking at me, I forgot my problems. Then I saw Melissa. Melissa was the type of girl that suited Luke. I could see that the minute I looked at her. Tall, elegant, and dressed in an expensive dress, she radiated class. They’d been high school sweethearts obviously, five years is a long time to spend with someone and they’d only been broken up—or on a break—as she insisted, two months.

  I was tempted to just go home. Get some sleep in my own bed while I still could. But instead I somehow found myself back at The Silver Den, watching a band who were actually pretty good. It was nice to come here and hang in the audience I had to admit. I was used to hanging back stage, performing and then going home.

  “You like them?” Luke asked, handing me a beer when the band went to take a break.

  “They’re great,” I told him honestly, “how did you hear about them?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t. I just thought it might be good to catch some live music. I thought you might like it.”

  That was nice. “What about you? Are you into this type of music?”

  He paused and a look flickered across his face. “I’m classically trained in piano. But I don’t do it anymore, I’ve taught myself guitar and started writing my own stuff. Music is something I want to follow.”

  “I thought you said you were majoring in engineering?” I queried. I was sure he’d mentioned something like that at dinner.

  “I did. I am. Its—ah—what my parents want me to do. But we’ll see.”

  He didn’t want to talk about it, I could tell. It must be a contentious issue between him and his parents. I didn’t push it. I hated it when people tried to get me to talk about my family issues with them.

  I nudged him. “Maybe you could join a band.”

  “I’d like that,” he told me honestly, “but—well, we’ll see.”

  He was brushing me off again but that was okay.

  “Hey, wanna dance?”

  “Sure.”

  He took my drink from me and placed it on a nearby table then looped his fingers through mine and drew me close as he led the way through the crowd to the dance floor. For a Tuesday night it was pretty busy, although not half as busy as it was on a Saturday night. Our night.

  We reached the edge of the dancefloor, but Luke didn’t let go of my hand, instead he pulled me closer so that my hips and stomach were pressed up against him. I swallowed at the sensations that churned through me. He was hard. Very hard, and I meant that in a very nonsexual way even though there was evidence of that too. His hands let go of mine and went to my hips, pulling me up even closer against him. I’d never danced with anyone like that before, but surprisingly it felt okay. Actually, it felt more than okay, dancing so close to Luke felt like heaven.

  Lifting my arms I wound them around his neck before finally resting them on his shoulders. Tilting my head up, I found him watching me, his eyes burning into mine. I felt my insides go soft and my breathing catch in my throat as my eyes dipped to his lips. They were only inches away from mine. We’d already kissed and memories of that swarmed my brain making me feel fuzzy. I was out of my depths with Luke. He was from a different world to me, a middle class world, he had a family, and he had college and probably not a care in the world.

  And yet he wanted to kiss me.

  And I wanted to kiss him.

  I must have willed it because before I knew what had happened he had lowered his head and was kissing me. His lips were warm and soft, tentatively touching against mine as if asking for permission. I trembled under the kiss but still managed to answer him. Yes. I wanted him to kiss him. Even if every rational thought told me no.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he mumbled against my lips as he broke the kiss.

  I was still heady from the feel of his tongue and mouth and could do nothing but nod and follow along as he led me out of the club.

  As soon as we reached his car, he pushed me up against the passenger door and kissed me again. This time the kiss was harder, darker, and more passionate. His mouth moved against mine urgently, his tongue intruded into my mouth, tangling with mine as he pushed me back against the car. The door dug into my hip but I didn’t care, all I cared about was the way Luke’s tongue tangled with mine, the way his hands gripped my face, turning it up to him, his thumb running across my cheek.

  I was shaking from head to toe and struggling to breathe. I’d never been kissed like this, so desperately, so demandingly in my whole life. Truth be told, I’d never really been kissed.

  His hands moved against my waist, over my hips down to cup my buttocks and pull me more fully up against him. My hands went to his arms, roaming over the curved muscles beneath his shirt before tracing their way up to curl in the short strands of dark hair at his nape. I heard a sound, a desperate groan, and realized it had come from me.

  “God you’re beautiful,” he murmured against my mouth before tracing kisses down my throat. His hands had bunched my skirt up and now they slipped underneath and I felt the warm calloused skin of his fingers on my thighs. I thought I might actually melt from his touch.

  A thousand sensations fluttered in my lower stomach. I didn’t ever want this to end, a thought which terrified me.

  The beep of a car alarm being disengaged broke our moment and Luke paused, his lips on my throat, his breathe coming in short, shallow pants. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet mine. They were dark, hooded, the pupils heavily dilated.

  I managed a little smile at him although I wanted nothing more than for him to kiss me again.

  “Sorry,” he said when he finally spoke, his voice a little croaked. “I got a bit carried away.”

  I nodded. “I think we both did.”

  He grinned, and I don’t think I’d ever seen anything half so sexy in my entire life. Releasing me, Luke reached around to open the door, waiting as I slid in. He groaned a little when I adjusted my skirt and turned away, before walking around to the driver’s side.

  When we pulled up behind The Bean where my car was parked, Luke turned to me.

  “I want to see you again, Trinity,” he told me. “I need to see you again and soon.”

  My heart skipped a beat at the desperate sound in his voice.

  “You are seeing me right now,” I whispered.

  “I know and it’s not enough. I want to see you more, I want to see more of you.”

  I knew what he meant and heat flooded my cheeks. He wanted me. Someone like Luke wanted someone like me. He didn’t want the rock chic flaunting herself on stage, he wanted me, Trinity.

  No one had ever wanted me before. Not my mom. Not my dad. No one.

  “I’d take you home with me right now and never let you go if you’d let me,” he continued, his voice tight, “but I have a feeling no one has ever taken you home with them, have they?”

  I shook my head.

  He opened his mouth to say more but then closed it again and drew in a deep breathe. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

  “I’m working and then I have band practice,” I told him.

  “Afterwards.”

  I nodded.

  He grinned, like a little kid who’d just been handed fairy floss at a carnival. My chest constricted.

  Feeling brave, and sexy, and desired, I leaned across the space between us and kissed him, breathing in the spicy, clean masculine scent of him. Then without another word I climbed out of his car and into mine, starting the engine with the biggest smile plastered on my face.

  ****

  My mother was waiting up for me when I returned home. Her shift finished at ten o’clock and she normally either went out with friends drinking afterwards or she went home and straight to bed.

  She never waited up for me.

  “Where have you been?” she asked as soon as I stepped through the front
door.

  I glanced around the small, neat but sparse living room. The faded orange wallpaper was left over from the seventies as was the threadbare carpet. The sofa was sunken and none of the furniture matched. It was clean though, only because I cleaned it.

  My mother wasn’t sitting, she was pacing the living room floor and she looked pissed.

  “I had a date,” I told her.

  “You had a date?” She screwed up her face. “Was it a real date or just a hook up? I keep telling you, you will get yourself a reputation if you aren’t careful. Who with?”

  I blinked. Why did she want to know all of this? “Just a guy I met. His name is Luke.”

  “Well,” she stepped forward speaking calmly and patiently. That scared me. I knew that beneath the surface she was simmering and I really didn’t want to be anywhere near her when she exploded. “I have had a visit from Kent tonight. Your father and he tells me that you are going out of your way to embarrass him and to ruin his life. Is that true?”

  What? She was crazy. Or he was. I stared at her. “No!” How could that even be true? I had met Kent once, years ago when I was about eight. I had once again been shipping off to my grandparents’ house because he was visiting but curiosity had got the better of me and I had snuck home. I’d seen him, seen him with my mom, on the floor of our living room. My mom had been furious when she’d spied me hovering by the door and had started to yell at me to go when he had intervened. He’d stood up and come over and knelt down in front of me, offering his hand. He introduced himself as my mom’s friend Kent, but I knew he was my father. My mother told me that he was my father anyhow, not that that was necessarily true. It might be that she didn’t actually know who my father was.

  It didn’t matter. Even if he was my father he had never made any effort to get to know me and my mother had made sure I was never there again when he visited.

  “Well he said you are,” she stepped closer and I stiffened, my fingers curling around the strap of my bag, “and I believe him. You’ve always set to ruin things between us, right from the very beginning.”

  And then there it was. I didn’t see it coming or I would have ducked out of the way, but her hand hit me straight across the head, the force knocking me backwards. My feet slid out from underneath me and I landed with a thump on my backside, my head flinging back and hitting the edge of the coffee table.

  Pain shot through me and I cried out.

  A kick to my ribs had me doubling over and I choked as the wind was knocked out of me.

  “You are ruining my life!” my mother screamed and then she was gone, the sound of her bedroom door slamming reverberating throughout the house.

  I curled up on the living room floor, pain coursing through me and sobbed. She was getting worse. Normally after he left she was in a good mood, he’d made her promises he would never keep and she was high and happy. We were okay for a few weeks until she started to miss him. But this was the third time she had hit me this week and tonight, she had hit me hard.

  I had to get out of there.

  Managing to control my sobs I sat up, keeping one hand wrapped around my side which stung bad. Had I cracked a rib? I really hoped not as that would seriously hinder my performance with the band. I’d suffered broken ribs before and they took ages to heal. Sucking in a deep breath I touched my forehead where my head hit the coffee table. When I pulled them away blood stained my fingers. That wasn’t good.

  Pulling myself to standing I hobbled down the hall towards the bathroom, keeping one hand around my side and the other pressed to my forehead. My fingers were growing wet and sticky and I felt something warm on my cheek. Inside the bathroom I examined the wound to my head.

  There was a lot of blood and the gash was deep. Wetting a hand towel I pressed it over the cut and prayed that I wouldn’t need stitches but within seconds the flannel was soaked with blood. Blood was on my dress too, my nice dress I’d worn out with Luke. For some reason that made the tears sneak out the side of my eyes and traced down my cheek.

  Luke. The thought of him cut through me. If he could see me now.

  I threw the towel into the hamper and grabbed some toilet paper pressing it against my head again. It turned bright red straight away. Damn. I was going to have to go to the emergency.

  Quietly I walked back to the living room. Her bedroom door was shut and there was no sound coming from beyond. She was probably passed out on the bed. Collecting my bag and keys off the floor I left, shutting the door carefully behind me and making my way down the path the car.

  Driving slowly and carefully through town I drove to the hospital and parked before walking up to the well-lit emergency. I was familiar with the emergency department, had been a regular for years. I’d had broken bones, fractures, plus a few stitches in my time and yet not once had anyone questioned what had happened to me. They all believed my simple, bald-faced lies. Even as a ten year old no one questioned the broken arm or cracked ribs.

  The nurse at the counter gave me some forms to fill out and I took a seat. I had no insurance so I was just going to get them to check out my forehead and see if I needed stitches. Hopefully they could just tape it up. That was much cheaper.

  “Miss Hallow?” the nurse called after about thirty minutes. “We can see you now.”

  I followed her through the corridors and into an examination cubicle. She pulled the curtains to give me some privacy as the doctor came in flipping through my file. I winced at that. He would see all my “accidents” but I was too old to be questioned by children’s services now.

  “Hello, Trinity,” he said, offering me a genuine smile, “hit your head I see.”

  I nodded. “I tripped and hit it on the edge of the coffee table.” Only a half lie.

  “Ouch,” he winced like it actually hurt him, “let’s take a look shall we.”

  His name tag said his name was Dr. Kingston. I hadn’t seen him before but he seemed nice.

  I sat still while he examined me.

  “So how old are you, Trinity?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “And you live at home?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “With your mom?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What about your dad?”

  He was asking a lot of questions. “He’s not really around.”

  “I see.”

  He fell silent which I was grateful for. “Well, Trinity, you will need a few stitches unfortunately, and it might leave a tiny scar just under your hairline.” He paused. “Now do you want to tell me what really happened?”

  I blinked at him. “I already did.”

  “Why are you holding yourself together then like you’ve been snapped in half?” he asked, tilting his head towards me knowingly. “Let me check that shall I?”

  I didn’t reply as his hands went to my side, carefully moving over my ribs. I winced. It hurt.

  “No broken ribs,” he said after a moment of examining me, “just bruised. Will hurt. I’ll have the nurse give you some pain killers and make sure you take it easy for the next few days.”

  I nodded.

  “Trinity,” he began, “you know it is not alright for anyone to treat you like this. They might say they love you but if they hurt you like this then it is not love.”

  I blinked up at him. Wait. What?

  “What would your mother say if she knew someone was treating you like this?”

  I didn’t say anything. What was he talking about?

  “A man who would hit a girl is not a man worth keeping silent for.”

  Suddenly I understood. He thought a guy—a boyfriend—had done this to me. I shook my head earnestly. “Oh no, you have the wrong idea. I don’t have a boyfriend. No one did this to me. I really did fall.”

  Dr. Kingston frowned. “You fell?”

  I nodded. I was eighteen now, he didn’t need to believe me, there was nothing he could do but somehow I wanted him to.

  “If you ever need anyone to talk to, Trinity, there a
re people here that can help.”

  “Thank you but I’m fine.” All I needed was somewhere to live. I wondered if someone here could find me somewhere to live.

  He paused for a long while watching me before he nodded, deciding something that he didn’t share with me. “I’ll get the nurse to organize those stitches.”

  Chapter Eight

  Trinity

  I woke up with a massive headache. And my side hurt. I winced, turning over in my car that was tight and cramped. I ached all over. It was only when I opened my eyes and looked around that I remembered the previous night.

  My date. Luke. Kissing. My mother. My head. The hospital.

  After getting my stitches done and packet of Tylenol I didn’t know where to go. By this stage it was well after midnight. I was tempted to go home but I wasn’t sure that was a good idea. If I woke my mom and she was still annoyed with me for whatever she thought I’d done do Kent then I couldn’t afford to suffer any more blows. In the end I’d decided to park out the back of The Bean again. I had to work there in the morning anyhow.

  Touching my head and sitting up, I grimaced as pain shot through me. I really needed to go to the bathroom and when I looked down I realized I was still wearing the same blood-stained dress. I had nothing in my car since I hadn’t planned on leaving immediately. I wondered if I could go home now.

  God my life was a mess.

  Switching on the car I drove through the streets toward home. I had to at least get some things, a change of clothes, and maybe I could grab a shower at Molly’s.

  Turning into my street I was just in time to see the familiar Mercedes reverse out of the drive and take off.

  I frowned. Kent had been here? He must have come by last night after I left, either that or had had come very early this morning. That was very weird. He normally didn’t visit for weeks on end. Something must have inspired him to come now. Something I hoped had nothing to do with me.

  Creeping quietly into the house I found my mother sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Come here.”

  Her voice was quiet and authoritarian. I didn’t want to go there but wasn’t sure I had a choice. Why was I always such a coward when it came to her?