He twisted his body toward her and extended his hand, but she shrugged him away.
"I've lost one daughter because of you and I'll be damned if I lose another. You stay away from us. Do you understand me? Or so help me God I will make your life a living hell."
"Elle is all I've got–"
"Correction, she's all I've got left. You were more than happy to move on without us. I kept your secret to protect our daughters." She looked away. "And look where that got me." Mrs. Richards faced him again. "Never again. When the pain of losing Heather is bearable, I'm going to tell Elle the truth, and she can decide what type of relationship she wants with you."
Mr. Richards' shoulders dropped and his mouth slackened, but he didn't argue. When his phone rang, Mr. Richards walked out the room.
Mom patted my arm, snapping me out of it, and handed me a tissue. I hadn't realized I was crying. My eyes burned from lack of sleep. At one point, I found Elle sitting in the first pew.
When I saw her, my stomach twisted in knots from the emptiness in her eyes. At the end of the service, when the preacher released us, I stood in line with my parents to give our condolences. I reached her mom first.
"Thank you for coming, Tristan."
I smiled. Behind her mom, Elle hurried away.
"Yes, ma'am." I acted fast and followed Elle out the back door, catching up to her before she hid in Alyssa's car.
"Are you planning on talking to me?"
She shook her head, clearly upset.
The steel wall she'd built between us damn near broke my heart. I'd do anything to crack through her barrier–to bring her relief–even if she didn't want me anymore. Fuck, it killed me that I didn't know for sure. She looked so beaten and lost. Her soft lips were dried and cracked. The somber look in her eyes conveyed her pain. All I wanted was to bring her comfort.
"Elle, I'm sorry." I cleared my throat, close to losing control.
"Please, Tristan, I can't do this. Not now." Her voice slipped.
I reacted. I grabbed the back of her head, pulled her in, and kissed her sweet lips. She kissed me back for a minute. For just a brief moment we were us. Then, placing her small hands on my chest, she pushed away.
I stepped into her again. "I fucked up. Bad. I know I hurt you. You'll never understand how sorry I am. I thought by giving in to Heather's demands, I was helping you both. I wished to God I could take back time. I should've considered–"
Elle placed her hand on my face, sliding her thumb under my eyes. "I'm sorry, too."
Alyssa walked out, but it didn't matter. I could see the answer on Elle's face. We were over.
"Tristan," Alyssa started.
I turned away, looking like a pussy. I didn't care. The breeze dried the moisture streaking down my face.
My legs felt weak, but I kept going. I was sick. When I reached my car, I drove with no destination in mind, just drove for the sake of moving. I rolled the windows down, thinking the suffocation would disappear. It didn't.
I pulled up to a liquor store. Inside, I picked the first bottle on the shelf, checked out, and drove home.
I downed half of my bottle by the time my parents got back. I was fucked up, but not enough because I could still feel. Thoughts were too coherent. My chest ached. I didn't want to feel a single fucking thing.
In order to get to that point, I needed more tequila. I poured another shot and tossed my head back, and fell backward, landing my ass on the kitchen floor. The fall didn't hurt, so maybe I was a little numb. I groped for the chair leg and used it to crawl back up.
"Tristan, I think you've had enough," Mom said.
"Mom, love a little." Shit, not what I meant. "I mean, live a little. Have a shot with me. I'll toast." I held my glass up, liquid sloshing over the rim. "To your son. A complete fuck-up, who lost the only person I ever wanted. Loved."
I tossed my head back, slamming my shot. I wiped my arm across my eyes, and then poured another. The room doubled. I reached for the bottle again to ensure my passing out soon, but it was gone.
"Son, go sleep it off," Dad said.
Sleep it off. Problem is when you sleep, you dream, and when you wake up, you live through the shit of losing her all over again. Waking up with amnesia would've been better than the hell I was in now.
∞ ∞ ∞
I called Elle over the next few days, but as every day, I didn't get through. The fourth day of no contact, Alyssa answered Elle's phone.
"Tristan, this isn't giving her space."
"I just need to hear her voice. I need to make sure she's okay."
Alyssa sighed. "She's not okay, Tristan. She's a mess. I don't know what to do, but I wouldn't expect anything less from her right now. She just lost her sister."
I wanted to be there for her. I should be the person comforting her. Holding her.
"I need to see her. Please. If I can just try to get her to hear me out."
Alyssa remained silent. "Fine. You've got one chance, but if she tells you to leave, then you have to promise to give her more time."
No, but I'd agree to whatever terms she wanted to hear. "Deal, I promise. Thanks, Amazon."
She laughed. "Yeah, I'm a freaking saint. She just jumped in the shower. Come by now. I'll leave when you get here. You two can hash it out alone."
"I'll be there in five." I hung up and sped over, hopeful. Traffic was light. That had to be a good sign or something.
Alyssa's car wasn't in the driveway when I pulled up to her parents' house. Something was wrong. I parked then jogged up to the door and knocked.
"Hey, um." I looked past Alyssa for Elle. The house was quiet. Nothing. I focused on Alyssa. The pity in her eyes said enough.
"She left, didn't she?" I swallowed hard and looked away.
"Tristan, I'm sorry. I really am. She overheard me talking with you on the phone and panicked."
"Got it. Hey, thanks for trying." I turned, not bothering with another goodbye.
"Tristan, she'll come around. Don't give up on her."
I continued to my car, ignoring whatever Alyssa spouted behind me.
Elle had ran away. From me. From us.
Back home, I grabbed my clothes, ready to get out. I couldn't stay knowing she was close enough to… fuck, I just needed out. I had no idea how to make this right.
"You leaving, son?"
I zipped up my suitcase and answered my dad without turning.
"Yep."
"You want to talk about it?"
I laughed under my breath. Like he fucking gave a damn. I didn't know what his angle was, and I didn't give a shit.
"Yeah, I'm out." I jerked my bag off the bed and faced him. "Listen, I don't know what your game is, but you can drop this nice act."
He bowed out his chest, frowning. "You think this has been an act?"
I laughed, not buying his bullshit facade. "Dad, we can't stand to be around one another and suddenly you've grown a fucking conscience? Elle and I are done, so yeah, you can drop the show."
"I guess I deserved that." He rubbed the back of his neck. I wanted out, but he continued running his damn mouth. "Vivian and I grew up together, too. I, ah… used to be in love her."
What the fuck was he trying to pull now? Oh, shit! I remembered Elle's dad spouting off, "Your dad wasn't man enough for my wife." My brain throbbed, on information overload.
He smiled, thoughtful. "One day I finally got her to admit she had feelings for me. We'd dated through high school, until our senior year. That's when Everett Richards moved to town."
My dad stared off in the distance. I had no idea. He refocused on me, and all I could do was stare dumbfounded back at him.
"Everett and I were friends." He clenched his jaw, anger set in his brows. "I could see her falling for him. At first, I didn't think anything of his attempts, but eventually he did win her over. Maybe it was my fault. I knew what he was doing, but didn't try to stop him. Believe it or not, I was cocky back in my day." Dad grinned.
"I didn't think Vi
vian would fall for him when she had me."
I definitely needed heavy alcohol in order to listen to this shit. His story hit a little too close for comfort. Actually, my stomach rolled. What the fuck was he trying to do? Cheer me up or make me lose my shit?
Dad shook his head. "When our relationship ended I went off to college, met your mom. Long story short, I married her." My dad cleared his throat, eyes misting.
"I suppose what I'm trying to get across is that everything happens for a reason, son. When Vivian left me, I never thought I'd ever love another woman. Not as much as I loved her… until I met your mom."
He smiled. The look I noticed a minute ago, I don't know, regret maybe, transferred to an emotion I recognized well. Complete happiness and love for the woman he'd married. It was a little fucked up knowing my dad and Elle's mom had a thing. Maybe we weren't so different after all.
"Life takes us on unexpected turns. Sometimes, the only thing you can go on is faith." He stepped in front of me, slapped a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed. "Don't give up, son. I know you feel lost now, but it'll work out. And I get this may be a hard concept for you, but I do believe in you."
Elle
After the funeral, running into Tristan, seeing him… his eyes, the dark circles beneath only enhanced the miserable shape he was in. My heart skipped with need, then in seconds fell to pieces from the hurt and pain. I loved Tristan but at that moment, resentment and emptiness replaced what belonged there. So when I overheard Alyssa talking with him on the phone, I just… it was too much.
"Alyssa, how could you?"
Her head spun around, her eyes wide. She recovered with a frown. "God, how could I not? Have you looked at him?" She glared. "Have you really seen him? He's in pain, too."
"You're an asshole, you know that? Yeah, I get it. But he–" I dropped my eyes and swallowed the sudden scratchy sensation coming on. Between crying and yelling, my throat was raw. "He knew, Alyssa." I lifted my chin and looked her square in the eyes. "Maybe I could have stopped her from leaving rehab. Now I'll never know. He took that from me. They both did."
"Guess it was too soon?"
"Or something."
Alyssa and I packed up and headed back to school later that day, and I made her promise not to mention his name on our way.
"Fine." For someone who gave Tristan a lot of shit over the years, she sure was pushing him on me now.
I imagined Tristan thought I was running away. Maybe I was, but not entirely for the reasons he suspected.
I built half my life around Heather. Hell, my college career was all in an attempt to learn more about helping her, how to fix her. But really, I used her sickness as an excuse to distant myself. I was exhausted, tired of running, of pushing people away because I didn't want to chance being hurt.
It was time to figure out who I was–alone.
A few days after I'd settled back into our room, the isolation seeped in. Tristan. I missed his warmth. The security his arms provided. He deserved an explanation. But you know what? So did I.
I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. Tristan wouldn't be there. I overheard Bret talking to him earlier about working out.
Driving up to his house, parking in the driveway, and then using my key to unlock his door, brought tears to my eyes. My fingers trembled making it hard to get my keys out. I hurried to his room, thinking speed would help the mixed emotions going on inside me. Aftershave, soap, and laundry detergent overrode what little willpower remained. My knees buckled and I sank to the floor, heart torn between wanting to stay and needing to go.
A pile of laundry strewn on the floor sat next to the empty hamper. How many times had I bitched about him missing the damn thing? Countless. One time in particular, Tristan smiled back at me, swept me in his arms, and said, "Thank you."
I quirked my brow, tilting my head to the side. "For bitching?"
"For being here with me. You can bitch all you want."
I loved him, but he'd also known… about Heather. That thought, it was all it took to get me off the ground. I couldn't be here, not now. My fists balled, anger reeling me back in.
When I calmed down, I left Tristan a letter on his bed, explaining. Hopefully he'd understand.
Dear Tristan,
This may be hard to take, but just hear me out. I'm grateful for what you and Mom did for Heather. I can't express how much that meant to me.
Heather made her own choice and maybe I couldn't have helped or stopped her, but I'll never know. I'm trying to let go and move on. I am. It just hurts… so much right now. I don't want to look at you and regret and that's all I have in me. Pain. Guilt.
This isn't goodbye. I need a pause. I'm asking for a timeout. I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved, but I don't have it in me to be the person you want or need.
Please understand. Wait for me.
Always,
Elle
Tristan
I drove home without Elle. Considering the messed up shit in my head, I did pretty good not thinking about her being gone. Music helped, some.
I pulled into my driveway, but I didn't move from my car. Go in or stay out? Fuck. The gnawing emptiness in my stomach settled the inevitable. Inside, I tossed my keys on the counter and opened the stocked fridge. The fastest food choice was a sandwich.
I set out lettuce, tomatoes, turkey, mayo, cheese, and mustard, and then reached for the bread on the counter. I was about to flop the two slices on the counter but thought better of it and reached for a paper plate instead. Elle was sort of an OCD freak about messes. I didn't want to upset her.
Then it hit me. The emptiness in my gut made a path to my chest. The stabbing ache drove away my hunger for food.
I stood in the door of my bedroom unable to turn the light on. I pictured the rumpled sheets on my bed. The same bed where I'd made love to Elle for the first time. I… I couldn't bear it. I slept on the couch.
The living room became my makeshift bedroom. When I showered, I hurried in and out so as not to smell traces of her shampoo. Didn't help that the fucking bottle was in my shower. I didn't touch her extra toothbrush, clothes, and hair shit, leaving them in the same place. A constant reminder as well as remnant of hope that Elle would find her way back to me.
Somehow I got by from day to day. Hanging out with Bret killed time, too. I'd also worked my ass out at the gym to relieve tension and stress. After a hard workout, back at home, I lost my cool.
I went to my room to grab a change of clothes. The lights were out, and at first, nothing seemed different until I flicked the light on. I saw it. Walking slowly, I hovered over the piece of paper. A letter. From Elle. She was here.
A few reactions happened simultaneously. My heart stopped and so did my ability to breathe. I stared at the white paper like it was a bomb ready to explode. Hell, as far as I knew it was.
My chest filled with air and my heart started pounding again. I picked up the letter.
Dear Tristan…
By the end, my hands shook so bad I could barely read the words. This was shit. She needed a fucking timeout. From us? From me? Forget that. No way was she getting away with this. A fucking letter? She wrote me a goddamn "Dear John."
Still clutching the letter in my hand, I stormed out of my house, jumped back in my car, and hauled ass to Elle's place.
On my way, I gripped the steering wheel so tight that by the time I turned on her street, my fingers were white and numb.
Alyssa and Elle's cars were parked along the curb in front of their house. Thank God Ginger and Bret's sister weren't around. Not that them being there would've stopped what I intended to do.
Outside, I walked as calmly as I could to her door, knocked, and then waited. I heard Alyssa yell, "I'll grab the pizza."
Damn if my stomach didn't growl. Come to think of it, I didn't remember the last time I ate.
The door swung open and Alyssa stared at me. "Um, ‘sup."
I gave her a what-the-fuck look. Before I could make a so
und, Elle came into view.
"Is the pizza–" She stopped, stunned.
My vision zeroed in on her widened eyes, pissing me off more. "Sorry, pizza guy's taking a timeout," I said, straining to keep my voice calm, even if the core part of me growled, screaming at her to really see me.
Tears sprang in her eyes and her brows pinched together, but I didn't care.
"Maybe now isn't a good time, Tristan."
I tore my attention from Elle to Alyssa, daring her to make me leave.
"Alyssa, it's fine. Let him in."
"Okay, if you're sure." Elle gave a short nod and Alyssa closed the door. "I'll just give you two some privacy, but holler if you need anything." Alyssa's expression hardened, but I was beyond her intimidating looks.
"Thanks," Elle said. Her voice sounded rough and scratchy. She turned, meeting my stare. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but her eyes never left mine. "Come in, we can sit in the living room."
She finally tore her gaze from me and sat in the chair. Not the couch, making sure I wouldn't sit next to her. That stung.
My throat burned, and I swallowed to keep from cracking. I ended up taking a seat on the far end of the sofa, but refused to take my eyes off her. We were going to get through this. I just needed to make her see that.
"You want to explain this to me?" I tossed the crumpled piece of paper at her.
She flinched. "I just need some time to think."
I planned to count, to speak rationally with her, but I lost my shit. "Time. You need fucking time from me? From us? She's dead, Elle. How is time away going to bring her back?" I regretted it the second the words shot out.
Elle looked like I'd hit her. Her entire body tensed, and her hands balled into fists. Tears streamed down her face again, but now her eyes were charged. She shot out of her chair and ran in my direction. I stood.
"You son of a bitch." The side of my face burned. "How dare you." She reared back for another blow, but I intercepted the hit. "Let me go." Her electric eyes were full of rage.
I squeezed her wrist and jerked her to me. Her chest pressed against mine, her heart racing. As if I'd been the one who'd died, touching her made me feel alive.
Addiction Page 9
