Distraction

by McPherson, Angela

  "I'm going to take your prescription to the pharmacy. I'll be back in a bit. Do you need me to pick up anything else while I'm out?"

  Mrs. Daniels smiled back at me and looked to Tristan.

  "Nah, just be sure to grab my wallet before you go. Oh, wait, could you grab some food?"

  "Sure, where's your wallet?"

  "It's in the console along with my insurance card."

  "Okay, I'll be back in a bit."

  Tristan’s lips curved up as his eyes grew heavy. “I’ll be waiting."

  Chapter 30

  Tristan

  "Seems you and Elle are getting along." My mom looked at me when Elle left.

  "Yeah, listen, Mom." I cleared my throat. I knew my parents wanted to stay, but I had to get them out of my house, hopefully before Elle came back. If my dad said one more derogatory comment at her expense, I'd lose my shit.

  "Elle said she would stay until I got back on my feet. I know you wanted me to come home for Thanksgiving, but I think it'd be best if I stayed."

  "Sounds good," my mom said, surprising me. I figured I'd have to grovel before she agreed. "I deposited some money into your account. Be sure to call if you need anything, and don't be a bother to Elle." My mom stood up from the couch.

  "Um, okay?"

  "I'm glad she's here for you, Tristan, but don't mess this up." I stared back at my mom, shocked. Was she suggesting what I thought she was suggesting?

  My dad walked in before I could ask. "I guess you're all set." My mom looked at me then back to my dad.

  "Yes, Wade. I think we should get back on the road before the time gets too late. Tristan needs his rest." Dad and I wore the same bewildered look.

  "Marcy, he just got out of the hospital." His response completely threw me. He wasn't the nurturing parent.

  "Yes, and he's being taken care of. Now, let's go." With a look of steel, my mom turned back to me. "Don't forget what I said, Tristan."

  "Yes, ma'am. I won't."

  "Good. Wade, tell your son goodbye. I'll wait for you in the car." With that, my mom walked out my door.

  "I'm not sure what has gotten into your mother, but if she feels you're okay to leave, then we'll get going." My dad scratched his head. The gesture was so uncommon, I laughed.

  "No worries, Dad. I'm good here. Be careful on the way back home."

  My dad cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels. "Good, good. Call us if you need anything."

  "Will do."

  He looked around, gave a curt nod, and walked out. As soon as the door closed, I sank into my couch. My head still pounded, but knowing Elle would be back with my medication eased some of the pain. I propped my feet up on the couch and closed my eyes to wait for her.

  Elle

  The freaking pharmacy took forever. There wasn't anyone to wait on but me, and I still had to wait an hour. After I paid for Tristan's prescription, I ran to the closest grocery store and picked up a few items for dinner. The pharmacist said he shouldn't take his meds on an empty stomach, and there was no telling what, if any, food he had in his house. Finished and back in Tristan's car, I dialed Alyssa's number.

  "Elle, how's Tristan?"

  "He's good. I'm staying with him until he's able to move around without killing himself." The line went silent. "Hello? Alyssa?"

  "I'm here. So what does Eric have to say about you staying at Tristan's house?" Oh shit. I'd completely forgotten to tell her.

  "About that–"

  "I cannot believe you, Elle. This is beyond cruel." I laughed. "You think this is funny? Or have you officially lost your damn mind."

  "If you'd shut your piehole for one second I would've explained that Eric and I broke up already, but no. Not you."

  "Well, it's about damn time."

  I rolled my eyes while backing out of the crowded parking lot. "You're not going to apologize. Are you?" The line went silent, again. "Never mind, I've got to get off and drive. I'll call you later."

  "Good luck."

  "Thanks." I tossed my phone in the seat beside me.

  Pulling into Tristan's driveway, I was pleasantly surprised his parents weren't there. I grabbed the few bags of groceries, Tristan's prescription, and headed in.

  Inside, the house was quiet except for the extra loud snoring coming from the couch. Tristan's long legs hung over the side, and his good arm rested on the floor.

  His fridge only sported a case of beer, no food in sight. Really, I wasn't too surprised. With the food put away, I headed toward the living room.

  Tristan snorted loudly through his nose making me laugh. He always snored–and talked–while he slept. I kneeled next to him.

  "Tristan, wake up." He grunted in reply. "Tristan, wake up."

  "I love you, Elle… need you."

  My hand stilled in midair, and my breath caught in my throat, as instant tears rimmed the bottom of my lids. My heart raced. Sitting a minute longer, I couldn't help but wonder if he'd say more.

  Tears slid down his face, and my heart ached. What was he dreaming of? Tristan shifted on the couch but didn't wake.

  Watching him sleep, I couldn't help but fall even more in love with him. He loved me, and I'd hurt him in return, all because I was afraid to give myself to him completely.

  I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply. I needed to grow up and stop being so damn afraid all the time. I knew I'd never get what I wanted unless I was willing to take a risk. I’d tell him about Eric. Soon.

  I opened my eyes and found Tristan smiling in his sleep as if he knew. I moved to his bedroom and grabbed a blanket to cover him. With Tristan snuggled under the blanket, I headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

  Noodles boiled and hamburger meat browned in the skillet when I heard Tristan's moan from the living room. I grabbed his pills and poured a glass of milk. I found Tristan holding his head in his hand, wincing.

  "Headache?"

  "You have no idea."

  "Here, take these. Dinner's almost ready. Are you hungry?"

  Tristan looked up, squinting his eyes at me. I handed the pills and milk to him. He popped them in his mouth and gulped them down.

  "Thanks. Yeah, I could eat. Smells good."

  "Don't get up, I'll be right back." He didn't reply as I walked back to his room, grabbed his pillow, and headed back out.

  “Here," I lifted his head, sliding the pillow under, “rest while I finish up."

  He closed his eyes closed. "Thanks."

  I smiled. "No problem. I'll let you know when dinner's ready."

  Chapter 31

  Tristan

  Whatever Elle was cooking smelled amazing, but the throbbing shit in my head made my stomach roll. Of course, I wouldn't tell Elle. I carefully fell back down, hoping the pills would kick in by the time she finished. It didn't take long until my eyelids became heavy and I fell asleep.

  When I opened my eyes again, the lights in the living room were out, leaving the space dark, and only a faint smell of dinner lingered in the air. The sound of the shower caught my attention, and suddenly I had to piss like a racehorse. I lifted myself off the couch, careful in case my head started to pound, but the ache had dulled considerably. Thank God.

  Slowly, I moved down the hall to my bedroom. The shower was still on, but I couldn't wait. I knocked on the door and walked in.

  "Spud, I've gotta piss. Try not to look. Okay?"

  "Tristan! Oh, my God."

  "Sorry, I couldn't wait."

  "Fine, just hurry up already."

  As I walked past the shower, I cursed under my breath. Should've gone with the clear plastic shower curtain instead of dark brown.

  "Are you finished yet?"

  "Almost. Unless you need help washing up?"

  Damn, I was getting hard. The mere thought of helping rinse the floral scented shampoo out of her hair, or the way her skin would feel as my hands cleansed every inch of her body was so damn hot.

  "Um, no. Just hurry up and do your business."

  "Stop blushing, Spud."
I unzipped my jeans, one-handed.

  "I'm not blushing," she said, though her voice pitched ever so slightly. When I finished, I flushed the toilet without thinking.

  "Ahhh, Tristan!"

  "Sorry. Habit." I barely contained my laugh.

  "Just get out already."

  I left Elle–not willingly–to finish up and headed to the kitchen. I flipped the light on and opened the fridge. Elle had a plate ready so I nuked the spaghetti and grabbed another pill to finish off the pain in my head. My shoulder hadn't hurt, but since the pain in my head was under control, I could feel the ache deep within the bone.

  As soon as the microwave dinged, I grabbed my plate and headed to the bar. Unfortunately, with my good arm out of commission, I'd have to use my left hand, which would be interesting.

  That first bite tasted damn near like heaven, or maybe it was from near starvation. Didn't matter though, I heaped another fork full into my greedy mouth.

  "Guess you got hungry?" Elle walked in while towel drying her thick brown hair.

  I paused mid-bite and stared. She didn't have a bra on and the peaks of her nipples through her shirt were...Fuck. Was she torturing me for flushing the toilet? I looked down at my half-eaten plate.

  "Yep," I said, shoving in another mouthful.

  I refused to watch Elle as she opened the fridge and poured herself something to drink, before standing on the other side of the bar from me. Problem being, her chest was now at eye level. Fuck. Me.

  How long did the doc say I had to refrain from sexual activity? I shook my head. Elle and I weren't in a relationship. For all I knew, she and Green were still a thing. Though given she'd agreed to stay and help during my recovery told me they wouldn't be together much longer. I could wait. Hell, I'd waited my entire childhood, high school, and most of college to be with this woman.

  "I'm glad you liked my cooking," Elle said. I still didn't look up, and continued to shove food in my mouth. Elle laughed. "Next time, I'll be sure to make extra."

  When the spaghetti was gone, I grabbed my plate, intending to carry it over to the sink, but ended up dropping it and my fork.

  "Tristan!" Elle ran around next to me and bent down.

  Don't look. Don't look. I failed. I looked up just as Elle leaned over me, her shirt loose enough to see down. I think I just whizzed in my damn pants. The no sex thing fucking sucked ass right now.

  "Tristan," Elle said, her tone reserved.

  I averted my wandering eyes to meet her suspicious green ones. "Yeah," I said, though the sound came out strained.

  "Never mind." She took my plate. "Oh, Eric and I broke up when you were in the hospital," she added softly.

  What? Did she just… yes, she did. A wild elation filled me and it took everything I had not to fistpump the air. Finally! Then reality wacked me across the back of the head–she hadn't sounded ecstatic. She'd actually liked him. I adjusted the front of my jeans and stood. "Are you okay?"

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I mean, I guess. I really did like Eric, and I never wanted to hurt him." She paused, and looked over at me. I could see the worry in her eyes. “I’m not ready…for an ‘us.’" Not ready, I could work with.

  “I can live with that…for now."

  She frowned.

  “Tristan, I’m scared. I…I don’t want to mess up our friendship." Yeah, that pissed me off. I’d never hurt her. Why couldn’t she see that? I also didn’t want to push her away.

  “Let’s just take this one day at a time. Deal?"

  She nodded, and turned back to the sink. Needing to lift the tension, I changed the subject.

  "Um, you can have my room. I'll sleep on the couch."

  Elle frowned as she washed spaghetti residue off the plate.

  "I'll take the couch." She turned the water off and faced me, crossing her arms over her chest. Had to admit, I was disappointed.

  "Spud, I'm not letting you sleep on my couch. You're here to help; the least I could do is give up my bed." I didn't want any other woman sleeping in there anyway, and the thought of Elle wrapped in my covers (possibly naked) seemed like a good image to fall asleep to.

  "That's the point, Tristan." Elle raised her brow. "I'm here to help, so you get your bed."

  "Nope, not gonna happen." We stared each other down, but I wasn't giving up. She might as well submit to my stipulation.

  "You're a stubborn ass, you know that?"

  I grinned. "Yes, but that's why you love me." I winked then turned around, heading to my makeshift bed.

  "Stubborn ass." I heard her say again as I grabbed my blanket from the floor.

  "Did you pick up any clothes while you were out?" I sat down. The throb in my shoulder had increased, and I rubbed the area hoping to dull the discomfort.

  "No, but I'll head over tomorrow after I leave work. I'm going to pick up some more food, too." Elle rounded the corner. "Is your shoulder bothering you?"

  The sympathy in Elle's voice was endearing. I could've played up the injured patient, but I didn't want her using my pain against me. Besides, she just said she hadn’t picked up any clothes.

  "Just aches. Don't worry about me. So, since you didn’t grab any clothes, does that mean you’re going commando? I mean, I guess I could live with that." I grinned back at her.

  Her jaw dropped, and her cheeks were flaming red. “Um. Um, let me give you another pain pill," she said, turning back to the kitchen.

  "Already did before I ate. It doesn't hurt too bad. It's just sore." It wasn't a complete lie.

  "Oh, um, okay." Elle stood in the doorway, perplexed.

  "Hey, you wanna watch some TV?" I didn't want to end our night just yet.

  "Sure. Maybe there's some old zombie movies playing." She smiled.

  "Hey, get the lights first." I moved to the other end of the couch so Elle could lie down on my good side. She headed for my recliner when the lights were out.

  "Come over here."

  She hesitated.

  "I'm not sure, I don't want to hurt you."

  "Can't hurt steel, remember?" Elle rolled her eyes, though crawled in next to me on the couch.

  "I'm not hurting you, am I?" Elle looked up at me with worry in her bright green eyes.

  "I've never been better." I pulled her back, tucking her under my left arm.

  Holding Elle made waiting to be with her worthwhile…well, at least for now. Tonight would be the start of our forever.

  Elle

  Staying with Tristan had its advantages, like helping him dress. I tried to keep from touching him, but touch had been inevitable. I think he enjoyed it too much, and I still couldn't believe how understanding he'd been. All together the experience had been extremely frustrating yet exciting. However, his limited one bathroom sucked. I assembled a fair bathroom schedule, but he never stuck with my plan. It seemed anytime I needed to shower, he'd find an excuse to go in. Such a perv.

  Mom called a few times, and was surprised to learn I was staying with Tristan through his recovery. Her tone suggested she wasn't in favor of the situation, though she didn't dwell on the issue.

  When Thanksgiving rolled around, Alyssa left town and as planned, I stayed to help Tristan. I even cooked an entire turkey without burning the bird. I was pretty proud, and Tristan's compliments were endless.

  The next week I'd driven Tristan to his checkup and was satisfied with his good report. Though Tristan wouldn't be released to play, he'd taken the news better than expected.

  By the third week, Tristan complained of shoulder tenderness, and his doctor had us wait another week to repeat the CT scan. The test revealed a nearly healed clavicle. Dr. Castillo assured us his shoulder would be back to new in just a few more weeks. Tristan had been getting around really well after that. Even though he didn't officially need me anymore, we continued our living arrangements.

  Alyssa didn't like the distance between us. I missed her too and we did hang out, though not for long periods of time. She and Bret were still together and hot heavy from the d
etailed texts and late night phone calls I'd received.

  Not only had I not hung out with Alyssa, my sorority sisters noticed my absence as well. When word got out I'd been staying with Tristan, my phone blew up with texts and missed calls from overzealous fellow Kappa sisters. Tristan found the texts and calls hilarious. I didn't find their enthusiasm as entertaining.

  Days rolled into weeks and Tristan and I fell into a comfy routine consisting of studying for semester exams, cooking–done mostly by me–and simply hanging out cuddling on his couch while watching movies. Our arrangement was simple, but I'd grown more and more addicted to being around him. While I sorted out my screwed up head, he waited for me. Being Tristan, this involved a lot of flirting, but he didn't push…too much.

  I wrote a multitude of emails to my sister, but she never replied. Absent calls or emails were typical, though the continued silence got to me. In a recent email, I tried to make her understand I'd never judge her, but still, nothing in return. I hoped she was alive and well.

  December snuck up on me and in a few short days, Tristan and I would drive back home to spend Christmas with our families. I didn't plan to stay longer than a day and Tristan agreed. I hoped Heather would be home by then, but I had a feeling she wouldn't be making an appearance this year.

  "Spud, what's wrong?" Tristan moved from the kitchen to sit at the bar.

  "Nothing really," I said and he frowned. "I'm just worried about Heather. She's never been gone for this long, and I'm beginning to wonder if she's really okay."

  I relaxed my head against Tristan's couch, fighting back my mixed emotions. I'd called my mom more frequently, though she'd assured me Heather was doing well. I even called our dad, and he too agreed Heather was fine.

  On several separate occasions, I'd asked if they knew where she could be. My mom said she didn't know, but that she'd sounded happy over the phone when she'd talked to her. At least I knew she talked to our mom and wasn't dead.