Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[

by Hazel St James

  Tristan piqued one of his eyebrows at Gabriel, and laughed at the offer. “Nah, man. I can pay for it. You can’t want more than a grand for it as it stands.”

  Gabriel laughed a great big belly laugh, and started messing with the keys on his key ring. “You would be doing me a favor by taking it off my hands, kid.” He handed him a key that he’d separated from his others and added, “Some drunk fuck left it here this spring, and it was considered abandoned. The title is actually in the glove box,” he laughed. “I was hoping that somebody would steal the piece of shit, but no such luck.”

  Tristan reluctantly took the key from Gabriel and slipped it into his pocket. Then he held out his right hand and said, “Thanks, Gabriel. I got this. Friday at five. And thank you.” They shook hands, and Gabriel even gripped their joined hands with his free hand.

  “No, thank you, kid. See ya Friday.”

  Gabriel left him standing there, and Tristan could have sworn that the old guy sniffled a few times as he got into his muscle car parked in front of the building. That was a strange interview, he thought as he made his way over to his new ride.

  Tristan was always into fancy cars, and had never driven anything that didn’t still have a new car smell. Granted he didn’t start driving until he was almost eighteen, but he was always serious about what he drove. There was another part of himself that Tristan decided in a flash he needed to let go of; driving a car that cost more than some people made in a year was pointless. It was flashy and fun, but ultimately it was like throwing away a grand every month just for a pimped out ride that only could get you from point A to point B.

  He was surprised to find that the Jeep wasn’t locked, and he took a few minutes to examine everything inside. The flooring was covered with what appeared to be carpet; and a lot of dirt. The fiberglass top on the back half was in good condition, but had a hair line crack on the roof. His experience from working at the plastic’s plant told him it would easy enough to repair it. There was a roll bar in the back behind the driver and passenger seat, plus there was a bench seat for two other people. The green paint job was decent, but there was a lot of body work that needed to be done because of the rust. All in all, it wasn’t a bad ride, once he got it all cleaned up.

  Peyton pulled back into the parking lot just as Tristan was pulling the For Sale sign off the back. She rolled to a stop next to him, and rolled down her window to yell, “You bought it?”

  Tristan laughed as he bent down and stuck his head inside to give her a kiss. He knelt down beside her car, and answered, “Kind of. The guy that runs this place gave it to me. He was a bit odd, if you ask me, but I like him,” Tristan shrugged as he finished. “He hired me on the spot to start tending bar this Friday.”

  Peyton clapped her hands together like a giddy school girl, and Tristan couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her enthusiasm. It was just a job at a supper club, but he didn’t say that out loud.

  “Alright, Peyton, I can get home from here. I will pick you up tomorrow at noon, baby. Okay?”

  Peyton’s grin was infectious and Tristan gave in and smiled along with her. She mockingly saluted to him, and laughed as she drove out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thursday…one week until Thanksgiving. It was still unseasonably warm for Colorado, and Tristan was half tempted to take the hard top off his “new to him” Jeep. But, he had plans for the entire day, and into the evening, and didn’t want to have to worry about the chilly air changing his plans.

  His Jeep seemed to be mechanically in good shape, but cosmetically it was a bit on the rough side. Tristan had spent the remainder of yesterday and most of this morning working on cleaning it both inside and out. He’d just finished cleaning himself up, and was going to pick up Peyton so they could go to the gym again this morning to work out.

  Usually, after the pair worked out for the day, they would run any errands either of them had, go to the apartment for a bit and then Peyton would leave for work at night. Of course, when they were at his apartment, she couldn’t help but clean, or cook, or do something that he didn’t want her to do, but it was almost in her nature to be taking care of someone. Almost as if it was her life’s purpose.

  Tristan’s days were so much better than his nights, but the nightmares were still the same. He had talked to his therapist a bit about having nightmares and his panic attacks, but still omitted the one of his childhood home; there was no way that it was important. It was just a bad memory that his brain decided would be a torture device to relive right now. But the problem was, Tristan wasn’t sure that the rest of the memory was in his brain somewhere. It was like there was a void once he got into the room, or someone had recorded over that part of it. There wasn’t even any emotion tied to it, other than just an empty chill.

  Mentally shaking himself, Tristan pulled himself out of his funk, and thought about his plans for the day. Peyton was expecting him soon at her house, and he intended to be there with lunch in his hands; just like she’d done for him for the last few weeks. Cooking wasn’t really his thing, so he placed a to-go order for chicken caesar salads from a diner on the way to Peyton’s house.

  Her house was in a small suburb of Colorado Springs and was fairly close to the edge of town. Tristan had only been to her house a few times before, but never more than just in the kitchen for a bit while she grabbed something, or he’d even waited in the car. Peyton was always trying to be a good host, but she was somewhat nervous at her own house, and even a bit jumpy when there. It seemed kind of odd to him, but at the same time, everything he did was odd, and she never flinched; so this was his way of returning the favor.

  Tristan wanted to mimic the grand entrance that she made into his house every morning, and was shocked when she didn’t answer the door after the first few knocks. Finally, he peeked his head inside and tentatively walked in, yelling, “Hello? Peyton? Baby, where are you?”

  There were soft sniffles coming from the hallway across from the kitchen, and he made no excuses as he stomped around to look for Peyton. Tristan checked each of the rooms before ending up at the only closed door. He knew from the few times he was here before that this was Peyton’s room, and had been her room since she was a little girl. That was pretty much all he knew about the layout of the house, other than the basement was somewhere she didn’t like to go because it was “icky,” but she quickly changed the subject when he pushed. Tristan was the king of diversion, and knew that she didn’t want to talk about what the issue was. And he had no reason to push her.

  He softly knocked on the door, but there weren’t any sounds coming from behind the door. He was just thinking of moving on to search the rest of the house, when he heard a soulful deep voice singing, Cut me down, But it’s you who’ll have further to fall, Ghost town and haunted love, Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones…I’m talking loud not saying much…

  Tristan couldn’t help but stand still and listen as she continued on, I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose, Fire away, fire away, Ricochet, you take your aim…

  The words were full of pain and angst and he could hear the occasional sniffle as Peyton sang. When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he knocked louder and pushed open the door. Inside, she had her back to him, and was standing there in just a T-shirt and undies and there were ear buds plugged into her ears.

  Tristan knew that no matter what he did at this point, he was going to scare the shit out of her, so he just tapped her on the shoulder and stepped out of the way. Just in case she was even slightly skilled with self-defense, her first reaction should be to punch at whatever was behind her. True to form, Peyton spun on her heel and blindly swatted with her open fist at her attacker. Tristan stepped back into her line of vision, grabbed her around the shoulders, pulled the earbuds out of her ears and yanked her into his chest.

  “I’ve been calling for you for a good fifteen minutes now, baby. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  Peyton buried her face into Tristan�
�s chest and snuggled in close. She spoke directly into his shirt, “Um, just an emotional morning. Felt like singing and crying for a bit, I guess.”

  “What happened?” Tristan asked as he pulled them both over to her neatly made bed and they both sat down, with Peyton sitting practically on his lap.

  “Nothing really, sweets. Just feeling a little over emotional today, I guess. I tend to get some pretty serious PMS, so that’s probably all this is. It makes me feel good to sing like that, gets all the crappy emotions out of my body and into the air.”

  “You have a beautiful voice, Peyton. I’ve never heard you sing before.”

  Peyton crawled the rest of the way into his arms, and curled up tight against him. Tristan took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he kissed her hair and sat with her on the bed.

  Tristan was content to just hold Peyton, and she seemed to be fine with it as well. They had been sitting there for quite some time when she unwrapped herself from his arms and stood up in between his legs. “Sorry we didn’t make it to the gym. You still want to go? I can just throw on some shorts and put my hair up.”

  Tristan looked at the clock in her room, and saw that it was after two o’clock in the afternoon already. He absently shook his head and got off the bed. “No, baby. Let’s take the day off. I brought lunch, but it is probably soggy. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll make us something. I assume I can raid your kitchen?”

  Peyton held his face in her hands and leaned in several times to kiss his lips. She nibbled on his jaw line and ended up by his ear. She playfully growled and latched onto the lobe with her teeth and gave it a good hard tug. He nearly jumped off the bed when the pleasure center of his brain stood up and cheered her on, but he knew that his resistance to her was waning, and fast. If he was going to keep on with his plan for the day, he needed to change tactics with her.

  “Peyton. Take a shower, I’ll cook.” He smacked her on the ass, and she jumped back. “Now go.”

  Peyton ‘spocked’ an eyebrow at him, but thankfully did as he said.

  The pair ate lunch outside on Peyton’s second level deck that was right off the kitchen. Her house was a split level that was built with the lower half of the house basically in the side of a hill. It was a family home for sure, with a lot of room in the fenced in backyard. It seemed like the perfect place for her to have grown up.

  Lunch conversation was light, and they talked mostly about Peyton’s Portuguese and Italian families and the huge dinner parties that she remembered as a child. Before her mother got sick, they would have large Italian dinners with as many of the neighboring families as they could pack into the dining room.

  Tristan talked a bit about the good parts of his childhood; fishing with his dad when he was really little and the fun that he’d had when he would go to the zoo with his grandma. He kept things light on purpose; there was no need to get so deep that Peyton would start asking questions. He didn’t want to ruin the good mood he got her in since her meltdown, so he kept all the crappy parts about his past to himself. Plus, he was more interested in getting her to talk and find out all about her. They ended up talking about embarrassing moments, and when the subject approached high school and graduation, he wanted sharing time to be over, so he started clearing their plates.

  Peyton immediately jumped up out of her seat and was reaching for the remainder of the dishes. “I can get that, Tristan. You cooked, I’ll do clean up.”

  Tristan shook his head and gave her an evil eye. “Sit,” then added, “please.”

  She laughed playfully. “Uber bossy today, don’t you think?”

  Tristan just continued into the kitchen and teased, “That’s nothing, baby. I can command a room if I feel the need.”

  Peyton was still sitting in her chair on the deck when he came back out, with both of her feet propped up on the seat. She had her arms wrapped around her legs and her face tilted to the side and was resting it on her knees.

  “Hey, Peyton. You okay?”

  The first part of her response was a mumbled, “Mmhmm, I was thinking about something.”

  Tristan left the remainder of the dishes on the table and sat back down in his chair. “Okay. You’ve got my attention. Spill it.”

  Without looking at him, Peyton spoke, “I know that you’re aware that Chris gave me some basics about what happened to you that night at Club Red, but I have always wondered. Is that the kind of relationship you’re looking for? The whole submissive chick that does what you ask? I don’t know if it’s something that I can do long term, but for you, I’m willing to try.”

  Tristan could feel the furrow forming between his eyes as he played Peyton’s words over and over in his brain. There was absolutely nothing derogatory meant; he knew that just from how she cared for anybody and anything that landed in her path. She was genuinely wondering if that was something that he participated in regularly.

  “Peyton that was a one-time deal for me. I honestly don’t have the urge to make women submit to me for kicks. A lot of that night is hazy, but I know that in the end, it wasn’t for me. Obviously.” His voice was sarcastic, and the words were dripping with disdain.

  Peyton slowly crawled out of her chair and tentatively sat down in his lap. “Sorry to be a downer, sweets. It was just a thought.”

  Tristan tilted her face so that she was looking directly at him, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Just as long as you always share with me what you’re feeling, no harm, no foul.”

  “Got it,” she smiled. “Then I have another thought process that won’t shut off.”

  Tristan just nodded and she continued, “The three date rule sucks, especially since we never actually go out on dates.” She stammered, “Which I’m fine with! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve just rethought the rule, and I’ve decided to pitch it out the window.”

  Holding her tight in his arms, he nuzzled her neck and used the tip of his nose to run up and down her pulse point, making her squirm in his lap. Tristan snaked his hands into the waist band of her shorts and onto the bare skin of her ass. His hands moved further down and she didn’t protest, so he firmly grabbed both cheeks in his hands. She gasped when he squeezed her flesh, and the noise flew directly to his growing cock.

  He muttered into her flesh, “I love your ass.” Giving in to her whimpers, he pulled her down for a passionate kiss and held her face in his hands, letting go of his favorite part of her body in the process.

  Peyton moaned into his mouth, and pulled back enough so that she could get her hands onto the hem of her shirt.

  Tristan stilled her hands and said, “Not yet, Peyton.”

  She whined, “What? I said I’m not following the three date rule anymore! I need you, Tristan. Please!” Peyton tried launching herself at him, but he held her firm.

  “The definition of a date is me picking you up, dinner, some activity and a kiss goodbye. Is that not true?”

  Peyton pouted, but stopped trying to wrestle herself free. “I guess.”

  Tristan nodded encouragingly and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, “Then this was date two. I will be back to pick you up at six o’clock for date three.”

  Peyton bounded up and down on his lap and giggled, “Ooohhh. Where are we going? Can we go dancing, or maybe we could…”

  Tristan silenced her with another kiss, but lingered long enough this time to make her relax again. “It’s a secret.” He pushed his chair back from the table with both of them sitting in it, and Peyton climbed off his lap.

  After one more kiss, Tristan rubbed noses with Peyton and she sighed from somewhere deep inside her tiny body.

  “Six o’clock, baby.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Peyton giggled as she climbed into the passenger side of Tristan’s Jeep. She was turning every which way in her seat, looking around the inside. Tristan pulled the seat belt around her and clicked it into place as she craned her neck over to look at the gauges. “Pretty cool for a free car, sweets. I like it.”

 
Tristan gave her a quick kiss, and answered, “I like it, too. It just needs some body work, but I think I know somebody that can help me with it.”

  Peyton was scrolling through her cell phone when Tristan got behind the wheel and buckled up. He pulled out of her driveway and was a good five blocks away from her house and she was still staring at her phone with a look of concentration. “If you stare at it long enough, is it going to do something cool?” Tristan asked playfully.

  Peyton didn’t look up, she just shook her head. “No, I think that Sara’s boyfriend used to work on cars. In fact, I think he’s still working there part time while they get their club open. I’m not completely sure about it, though.”

  Tristan sighed and gave her an exasperated look. “Baby, I appreciate your concern, but I’m capable of doing some things on my own, you know.” He didn’t mean for it to come out of his mouth so harsh, but his angst built as he said the words, and by the end, he could feel the heat from his own mouth.

  Peyton snapped her head up from her cell phone, looking at him with fear in her eyes. She stammered, “I k-k-know that, Tristan. I was just trying to help.”

  Tristan kept his eyes on the road, and took a few deep cleansing breaths. It was a shitty way to respond to what he knew was just something that Peyton innately did for everyone, but it was time that he took control back of his own life. At least the parts he could handle.

  “Baby, don’t take this the wrong way. I love that you take care of me. But, I gotta have some control back in my life, or I will be completely dependent on you. That’s not the kind of relationship I would ever want to have with someone.”

  “Oh,” was her only answer. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree when she did finally look up at him. Tristan could only peek at her occasionally as he drove them out of town, but he could see her gorgeous smile that stretched all the way across her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was playing at being happy; it wouldn’t have been obvious to anyone else, but Tristan had memorized every line and curve in her sweet face, and could read her like a book. Still, he was at a loss for what to say or do next, and opted to just let it go.