Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
He walks up to me quickly. I think things will be awkward, but he grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Oh, Maya.”
I wrap my arms around him, forgetting about earlier. When I press my face against his chest, he moves back slightly. I can feel him trying to create some distance between us, not just physically.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, even if it’s not, even if it hurts. “I get it. We’re just friends now.” I pause after my bitter words. “I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for you—”
“Don’t make this about the money,” he says coldly. “Your mother deserves to get the help she needs.”
Another pause. It feels like it’s full of so much potential.
What do we deserve, Tristan? That’s what I want to ask him. What do we get out of this … this what? This short-lived, hot-as-hell steaminess?
“Can I ask you something personal?” I murmur.
He looks down at me with twinkling eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there’s something like obsession in his gaze. It’s how he looks at me like nothing, and nobody else exists or matters.
“Sure.”
“Who’s Vanessa?”
He flinches. “Where did you hear that name?”
“The Mob guy who came by threw it in my face.”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“If she’s an ex, does it even matter now?”
When he flinches again, I almost yell at him. He doesn’t have the right to look wounded about this. Moving over to the chairs, he slumps down with a sigh. I sit beside him, almost taking his hand, but the atmosphere is tense and uneasy between us.
“You might not like hearing this,” he says.
“It doesn’t matter what I like. I just want to know.”
The truth is, I have to know, but I won’t go that far.
“Vanessa,” he spits like he hates her name. “It started with a one-night stand after a long deployment. I needed to blow off steam, which felt harmless at the time. Then she started calling me constantly and appearing unannounced whenever I was on leave. It intensified quickly, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
That reminds me of us, but I don’t say that. Jealousy twists through me at the thought of Tristan with another woman, but he’s in his thirties. What did I expect, for him to be a virgin, too?
“One night, I got drunk—really drunk. She found me at our usual hangout and practically dragged me back to her place. We ended up in bed again.” He sighs tiredly. “This is going to sound like an excuse. I honestly didn’t want it, but I was too wasted to remember what happened. A few weeks later, she told me she was pregnant. She was sure it was mine. That was also when she admitted she’d spiked my drinks with ED meds that night.”
“Oh, Jesus,” I whisper.
He nods. “Yeah. It’s fucked. I felt violated and just … I’m not sure how to describe how I felt. I was still in the Marines at the time, and I had to head back to work. When I came home, she told me she wanted to be my wife, but I didn’t love her; I didn’t want to be with her. We had this massive fight. I told her I wasn’t ready for a kid, not with my life and schedule. She wouldn’t hear it. She kept pushing, and I pushed back harder. The things we said to each other were … brutal. I was angry, scared, confused.”
Now, I can’t stop myself. Reaching over, I squeeze his hand. I can practically feel the pain and the rage coursing through him like he’s reliving it all.
“When she realized I wasn’t going to bend, she decided to get an abortion. We had another vicious argument about it. I didn’t know how to feel—relieved, guilty, ashamed. It tore me up inside. I felt like I’d failed her, failed myself, failed that unborn child.”
There’s another long pause. I want to offer him more comfort and make him see this wasn’t his fault. He’s not a bad man.
“That’s why I’ve been so distant with you. I didn’t want to drag you into that darkness. It’s not fair to you, but I had to tell you. It’s a part of me that I can’t seem to shake, a wound that hasn’t healed. I’ve been carrying this weight, trying to keep it from crushing me, and I didn’t want it to crush us, too.”
“Us,” I whisper, leaning over to put my head against his shoulder.
That seems to wake him up. He leans away and then stands. He’s shaking all over. It was clearly difficult for him to share this.
“But there is no us, right? That’s what you’re going to say,” I mutter.
“I’m sorry,” he growls.
I leap to my feet, staring up at him. “Who do you think you’re fooling, huh? Me? Yourself?”