Page 4

CHAPTER 3

T wenty minutes later, they were pulling up to a large, two-story white colonial house, his first real home, Tristan thought as he climbed out of the truck, wincing when the movement pulled at his wound. Before he could make a quiet escape and walk to his house, two houses down from this one, the front door of his parents’ house was thrown open and a short and very determined woman rushed out. He swore softly when his mother quickly made her way over to him.

“How’s your shoulder today?” she asked, running an assessing eye over him, probably trying to determine how much babying she needed to dish out today.

“Fine, Mom. I’m going to head home now. I’ll see you later,” Tristan said, quickly giving her a one-armed hug and a kiss on her forehead. The one thing he didn’t need right now was his mother fussing over him. He’d had enough of that over the past few weeks to last a lifetime.

“Okay,” his mother said, giving him a kiss on the cheek while he’d noted that she gave in quickly, which instantly put him on alert.

As Tristan pulled away, his gaze automatically shot across the street, looking for the beat-up, old yellow Volkswagen that belonged to the woman that he’d forced himself to pretend didn’t exist. When he spotted the car in the driveway, his heart skipped a beat before he forced himself to look away.

“That reminds me, sweetie. Marty accidentally locked herself out. I told her that she could study in your old room while she waited for Hank to come home. Why don’t you go upstairs and say hello? It’s been a while since you saw each other,” his mother said, managing to offer him the one thing that he couldn’t resist.

Not today.

He just…

God, he just fucking needed one more minute with her.

“Just for a minute,” Tristan said, knowing that he shouldn’t do this, but he needed her, craved her every fucking minute of the day, and even though he’d never understood it, right now, he didn’t want to fight it. Right now, he was going to be a selfish bastard and steal a few minutes with the woman who deserved better.

“Well, you’ve both moved on since high school, and by the time she started college, you were starting the academy. Sometimes, people just grow apart. It’s sad, but it happens,” his mother said on a wistful sigh as she reached up and carefully adjusted the strap on his sling.

“I should go say hello,” Tristan said as his gaze shifted to his old bedroom window.

“Tell Marty that dinner will be ready in two hours when Denny gets here,” his mother said with a warm smile that Tristan barely noticed as he found himself slowly exhaling.

Nodding absently, Tristan made his way to the house, wondering if he was going to change his mind like he had a thousand times before and simply walk away from her.

As he made his way up the front steps, Tristan realized that something about this time was different.

This time, there would be no turning back.

Slowly releasing a shaky breath, he jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time, but somehow managed to force himself to slow down when he reached his old bedroom and spotted Marty sitting on the small twin bed among a pile of books, focused on the thick textbook on her lap.

Unable to take his eyes off her, Tristan stepped into the room and leaned back against the doorframe, content to watch her for a few minutes until even that wasn’t enough and he realized that he needed more than just to watch her from a distance.

“Hey, Marty,” Tristan murmured softly when he knew that he should have just walked away, startling Marty into releasing an adorable squeal as she jumped back and fell off the bed.

Cursing, Tristan pushed away from the doorframe and moved his ass. His long strides quickly ate up the small distance and was there before Marty managed to hit the floor, using his good arm to pull her against his body. He forced himself to ignore just how fucking good it felt to touch her and quickly placed her back on the bed. Once she was settled in the middle of the small bed, Tristan dropped his hand away from her as though the contact burned him and stepped back.

“Thanks,” Marty mumbled awkwardly as she pushed her long brown hair out of her face.

“No problem,” Tristan said gruffly as he quickly moved away from the bed, needing to put more distance between them. He moved to the other side of the room and dropped his large frame onto the oversized leather chair that his father stuffed in here a few years ago to stop it from ending up in a yard sale, praying that he didn’t regret this later.

* * *

Marty nervously tapped her pen against her notebook as she frantically searched for something to say to the man that used to be her entire world, only to end up blurting out, “I got locked out,” and most likely sounding like an idiot.

“So, I heard,” Tristan murmured, giving her a barely-there smile.

Not knowing what else to say and in absolutely no mood to make an ass out of herself again in front of him, Marty began collecting her books. “I must be in your way. I’ll go downstairs and study at the kitchen table.”

Once upon a time, he used to be her world, but now, she had absolutely no idea how to talk to him anymore. Once he’d graduated high school, they quickly became strangers. The only time that she saw him now was when she stopped by the police station to visit her father at work, when they both visited his parents or when she drove past his house. Even then, it was only polite nods and barely-there greetings.

Well, except for that one time when he pulled her over for speeding. She swore that his lips twitched when he gave her that speeding ticket, but it had been so quick that she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. Tristan always acted like ice, like nothing could penetrate his cool exterior. Earning a true smile or laugh from him was like winning the lottery.

She inwardly sighed.

God, she really missed his laugh.

She missed him .

“You’re not in the way,” Tristan said softly.

When Marty hesitated, he continued. “I also wanted to say hello. It’s been a while since we’ve talked,” Tristan explained, absently reaching up and rubbed his shoulder, making her swallow hard as she followed the move.

“I heard about what happened. I’m sorry. That must have been awful,” Marty said, relieved that she’d managed to talk about one of the worst nights of her life without crying.

She knew that he wouldn’t appreciate it, especially since he had no idea that she’d spent the entire night after he had emergency surgery holding his hand in the ICU, crying, and praying that he got another chance. She’d been too afraid to ask for anything more than Tristan pulling through that night, terrified that it would be asking for too much and that she’d lose him, but now…

Now, she wished that she’d asked for more.

From the first moment that she saw him sitting in Tom and Beth’s living room the day they’d picked him up from foster care, she’d felt connected to him. It wasn’t something that she ever admitted to anyone, not even Tristan when they were kids and he was her world. It was so strange, still was, but from the moment that she saw him, she’d felt drawn to him. Still did, even if they hadn’t spoken in years.

She wished that she didn’t feel this way about him. She hated this hold that he had over her, couldn’t explain it, and most days, she struggled to ignore the heartache that being separated from him caused. She’d never hated this strange connection to him more than the day when her father called and told her that Tristan had been shot and might not make it through the night.

She hated it because the impending loss felt powerful, too powerful, and so damn familiar that it nearly dropped her to her knees. It felt like she’d gone through it a hundred times before and one more time would have been more than she could handle.

“It’s over,” Tristan said, shrugging it off when most men that she knew, including her father, would have taken that as his cue to tell her all about the shooting with the typical embellishments added, but not Tristan. Even as a child, he’d hated talking about himself.

“Tell me about school,” he demanded softly, making her lips twitch.

It seemed like nothing had changed. He’d always asked about her day and patiently listened while she rambled on about her favorite crayons, what she had for lunch, or what she planned on asking Santa for Christmas. He’d always been so sweet and patient with her. She never really believed the rumors that he was an asshole since he’d always been kind to her even when she was acting like a brat.

“It’s going well,” Marty said, not really in the mood to talk about school since she was struggling to finish her thesis. Her personal life was out as well since she didn’t really have one, especially since the guy she’d been seeing whenever she wasn’t busy dumped her today through a text.

Could you really dump someone that you hadn’t spoken to in over two months? She didn’t think so. After not seeing or hearing from someone in over, let’s say, a week and a half, a breakup should be a mutual understanding. But if Jonathan needed closure, he had it now.

Then, there was her professional life. The bar she’d been working at for the past year and a half decided to fire her this morning after she’d refused to embrace the new managerial style like the rest of his “good” employees. At least, that’s how her termination had been worded when she’d refused to wear a skimpy halter top with “Joe’s Bar” written across her chest and “Come get some” stamped across her ass.

Thankfully, nepotism was still alive and well. Her father, the chief of the state police in their area, decided to give her part of the job that she was supposed to start when she graduated early. She was a few months shy of having her master’s degree in forensic criminology, so her father was creating a position for her in the meantime. She was going to act as a personal assistant to one of the detectives.

Then, there was her drive home…

The drive home, which normally took twenty minutes, took two hours today, mostly because her car kept seizing up, dying, and refusing to start without a prayer. Someone up there must love her because she finally managed to make it to her driveway before her car finally had enough. That, of course, was followed by locking herself out of the house when she went to get the mail. Now, she wasn’t sure if seeing him after all these years was actually a good thing or a bad thing.

When she didn’t say anything else, Tristan raised a brow expectantly. Apparently, he desired more details. Things really hadn’t changed that much, after all. He always wanted her to talk, more like demanded it. She could still remember when she was four years old and followed him everywhere he went, talking about anything and everything while he’d simply nodded.

She knew that he hadn’t been nodding out of politeness or trying to placate a young child. Any time she’d stopped talking, Tristan would stop whatever he was doing and look at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She’d learned very early on that he hated silence. If she wasn’t speaking, he covered the silence with music or television.

God, she missed him.

Not once had he told her to go away or lost his patience with her. Even when his friends were around, she’d always been welcomed. He’d always been her hero. He’d been the one she went to when she skinned her knees and the one she’d yelled for whenever she got stuck in a tree.

He always came for her.

When it was time for Tristan to go to high school, her father took her aside and explained that he probably wouldn’t have time to spend with her. If anything, they actually became even closer. By then, the connection that she’d felt with him had developed into a crush. He was handsome, quiet, and easygoing.

Well, as long you didn’t get on his bad side.

Everything changed when Tristan started college. They began drifting apart until, eventually, they became strangers. It was weird sitting on his bed in his childhood bedroom, once again being asked to fill the silence as though nothing had changed.

“I heard you’re working on your thesis this semester,” Tristan said, the soft baritones of his voice managed to pull her out of her daze and back into a situation that would only end with her crying into her pillow later tonight.

* * *

He wanted her to talk, needed it badly. He was surprised by how much it pained him to see her in his childhood bedroom, sitting on his bed like this again. After all these years, Tristan thought he’d grown immune to her and this goddamn connection that he felt to her. Distancing himself from her was the hardest thing he’d ever done and not a day went by that he didn’t think about her, but it was because he cared about her that he did it. He couldn’t drag her into this hell.

Nobody deserved that, least of all her.

Over the years, he’d told himself that as long as Marty was happy, safe, and living the life that she deserved, nothing else mattered. She deserved more than a freak, and he would make sure that she got it, but for now, he just wanted to sit here and listen to her talk one more time. Then, he would walk away for the last time.

* * *

The problem was that Marty didn’t want to talk about herself. She wanted to talk about him. She was sick of finding out everything about him from her father or his family. It was never enough to tell her the one thing that would make this okay.

She wanted to know if he was happy.

She glanced around the room, hoping to stumble upon something that would get him to talk. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked out the window towards her house, quickly coming up with something that she hoped would have him talking for a little while.

“How do you like your new house?”

Tristan leaned against the side of the large chair as he eyed her pile of books. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and pressed two fingers to the side of his temple, making his bicep bulge in a way that made it really difficult to focus. Swallowing hard, Marty forced herself to ignore the unbelievably sexy pose.

“It’s too big,” he said, sounding annoyed.

She nodded in agreement even as she bit back a smile. Truth was, the old Thompson place was the biggest house in Stanton. Over the past few years, only large families and a few residential programs showed any interest in the old house.

“Why did you buy it?” Marty asked, curious why a confirmed bachelor would need a house that big.

“I couldn’t beat the price,” Tristan drawled.

“Oh,” Marty said, biting back a disappointed sigh.

They hadn’t spoken in years and here she was harboring fantasies that he’d missed her. She was pathetic, Marty thought only to frown as she watched his jaw suddenly clench tightly and his gaze shift to the left while every muscle in his body suddenly went rigid and the backs of his knuckles turned white.

“Are you okay?” Marty asked, wondering if his shoulder was bothering him.

“Fine,” Tristan said through clenched teeth as he stood up. Before she could ask what was wrong, he was heading for the door only to abruptly stop and step aside, leaving her sitting there, frowning as she watched him suddenly step to the right before he stormed out of the room without another word.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” Marty said, watching him go. A minute later, she climbed off the bed to watch him. Whatever they were giving him for the pain wasn’t enough, Marty thought as he made his way across the street.