The Elements Series Complete Box Set

by Brittainy Cherry

  Tristan shrugged. “It seems like she did a decent job with you.”

  “Minus the lack of me reading Harry Potter.”

  “Your mom should date a wizard next time.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, it’s probably next in her lineup.”

  Around three a.m. he stood to leave, and I hurried inside, bringing out a pair of double-A batteries for his cassette player. He hesitated at first, but then placed them into his player. As he walked across the lawn with Zeus, he hit play on the music, placing the headphones over his ears. I watched his footsteps pause. He covered his face with the palms of his hands and his body shook.

  I dropped down to my knees, watching the suffering that engulfed his spirit. A part of me wished I hadn’t given him the batteries, but another part was happy that I had, because his reaction meant he was still breathing.

  Sometimes the hardest part of existing without your loved ones was remembering how to breathe.

  He turned back my way and spoke. “Do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  He gestured toward the house. “Hold her tight each day and night, because nothing’s promised to us. I just wished I would’ve held on tighter.”

  14

  Tristan

  April 4th, 2014.

  Three Days Until Goodbye.

  “This one’s really nice if you are looking for something strong,” the funeral home director, Harold, said to my mother and me as we stood staring at caskets. “It’s full copper, which has excellent resistance to corrosion. It’s stronger than stainless steel, and provides a remarkable life for your loved ones.”

  “That’s very nice,” Mom said, as I stood completely uninterested.

  “And over here, if you’re looking for something a bit higher class, then you want to look into this beauty.” Harold’s fingers brushed against his goatee before he patted the inside of another casket. “This is solid bronze, which is the strongest and longest-lasting of any casket material. If you are looking to send your loved ones out in style, this is the way to go.

  “There’s also the option of the hardwood caskets. Now, they aren’t as strong as these ones, but they are shock-resistant, which is nice. They come in different types of hardwoods such as cherry, oak, ash, or walnut. Now, my personal favorite is the cherry finish, but that’s just me.”

  “Fucking creep,” I muttered under my breath, my mom the only one to hear me.

  “Tristan,” she scolded, turning away from the funeral director. “Be nice.”

  “He has a favorite casket. That’s fucking weird,” I hissed, irritated with Harold, irritated with my mother, irritated that Jamie and Charlie were gone. “Can we get this over with?” I complained, looking into the empty caskets that would soon enough be filled with my everythings.

  Come back to me.

  Mom frowned, but went ahead and handled the details that I wanted to pretend didn’t exist.

  Harold took us to his office, where he wore his creepy smile and talked about shit that annoyed me as each moment passed. “For the tombstones we also offer wreaths for the holiday season, vases for flowers, and blankets for the colder months—”

  “Are you shitting me?” I murmured. Mom placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, almost as if to stop me from snapping at Harold, but it was too late. I was too far gone. “It must be really nice for you, huh, Harold?” I asked, leaning forward with my eyes narrowed and my fingers laced together. “It must be a good fucking job to offer sad fucks blankets for their loved ones. To get them to pour all their money into stupid shit that doesn’t matter because they are in a vulnerable state. A blanket? A BLANKET?! They are fucking dead, Harold,” I shouted, standing up from the chair. “The dead don’t need blankets because they don’t get cold. They don’t need wreaths because they don’t celebrate Christmas, and they don’t need flowers because what’s the point?!” I hollered, slamming my hands against his desk, sending papers flying.

  Mom stood up and reached for me, but I yanked my arm away. My chest rose and fell, my breaths becoming harder and harder to control, and I could feel the wildness that was living within my eyes. I was losing it. I was falling apart more and more as each second passed.

  I rushed out of his office and leaned my back against the closest wall. Mom apologized to Harold as my hands formed fists and began to slam against the wall behind me. Over and over again, I slammed my fists against the wall. My fingers were turning red, and my heart was turning cold as it all began to set in.

  They were gone.

  They were gone.

  My mom walked out of the room and stood across from me, her eyes filled with tears.

  “Did you get the blanket?” I asked, sarcastically.

  “Tristan,” she whispered, the heartbreak audible within her soft words.

  “If you did, you should’ve gotten Charlie a green one, and Jamie purple. Those were their favorite colors…” I shook my head, not wanting to talk anymore. Not wanting Mom to try to make me feel better. Not wanting to breathe.

  It was the first day that their deaths felt real. The first day I came to the realization that in three days I would have to say my final goodbye to my world. My soul was in flames, and every inch of me felt the burn. I shook my head more and more, cupped my hands over my mouth, and howled into my sadness.

  They were gone.

  They were gone.

  Come back to me.

  “CHARLIE!” I screamed, sitting up in my bed. It was still pitch black outside, and my sheets were soaked in my own sweat. A slight breeze passed through my window as I tried to shake off the nightmare that was more real than ever before. My nightmares were my past memories that came to haunt me.

  I watched as a light turned on across at Elizabeth’s house. She walked over to the window and glanced my way. I didn’t turn on my light. I sat on the edge of my bed, my body still burning hot. The light flooded over her face, and I watched her lips move.

  “Are you okay?” she questioned, crossing her arms against her body.

  She was so damn beautiful, and it annoyed me.

  It also annoyed me that my shouts probably awakened her almost every night. I walked over to the window, my eyes still heavy with the guilt of not being there for Jamie and Charlie. “Go to sleep,” I told her.

  “Okay,” she replied.

  But she didn’t move to her bed. She sat on the ledge of her windowsill, and I leaned against mine. We stared at one another until my heartbeats slowed, and her eyes faded shut.

  I silently thanked her for not leaving me alone.

  15

  Elizabeth

  “Rumor has it you’re banging an asshole,” Faye said over the phone a few days after I’d sat up with Tristan after his nightmare. I hadn’t spoken to him since then, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  “Oh my gosh, that is not a rumor.”

  “No, but it sounds more exciting than Tanner whining about some dude cutting your grass, even though I remember offering you a certain guy named Ed to trim your bushes. But really, though, are you okay? Should I be worrying like Tanner is?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Because that Tristan guy is a total dick, Liz.” The worry on the end of each of her words was sad. I hated that she was worrying about me.

  “I can talk to him,” I said quietly. “About Steven, I can talk to him.”

  “You can talk to me about him, too.”

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s different. Tristan lost his wife and son.”

  Faye went silent for a moment. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I doubt anyone does. People mainly judge him from the outside, I think.”

  “Listen, Liz. I’m just going to be uncool for a second because sometimes being a best friend means being truthful even when your bestie doesn’t want to hear it. It’s sad, really, about Tristan’s family. But how do we know we can trust this guy? What if he made that story up?”

  “What? He didn’t.”

  “How do you kn
ow?”

  Because his eyes are haunted the same way mine are.

  “Please don’t worry, Faye.”

  “Honey…” Faye sighed into the phone receiver. For a second I contemplated hanging up on her, something I would’ve never done in the past. “You just got back into town a few weeks ago, and I know you’re hurting. But this Tristan guy, he’s mean. He’s wild. And I think what you need is more stability in your life. Have you thought about talking to a therapist or something?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Because therapists were supposed to help you move on, and I didn’t want to move on. I yearned to go backward. “Look, I gotta get going. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Liz—”

  “Bye, Faye. I love you,” I said, and meant it, even though I didn’t like her very much right then.

  “Love you, too.”

  When I hung up, I went to the front window of the house and watched as the darkened skies started rolling in. A rainstorm was building right in front of me. Such a large part of me was excited for the rain too, because the rain meant the grass would grow faster, and that meant broken Tristan would be here again, standing right in front of broken Liz.

  Saturday evening, I couldn’t have been happier sitting and watching Tristan cut the grass. I sat on the front porch with Mama’s heart-shaped tin box of love letters, going through all the words I’d already read millions of times. When Tanner’s car pulled up toward my house, I placed the letters back into the box and shoved them to the corner of the porch. A weird sense of embarrassment washed over me knowing that Tanner was about to see Tristan cutting the grass.

  As his engine turned off and Tanner hopped out of his car, I gave him a tight smile and stood up. “What brings you around here, buddy?” I asked. His eyes instantly locked on Tristan, and he frowned.

  “Just was driving around after work and thought I would see if you and Emma wanted to grab some dinner or something.”

  “We already ordered pizza, and Emma is inside on her second round of watching Frozen.”

  He stepped closer, his frown still remaining. “The grass doesn’t seem like it was that long to begin with from what I can tell.”

  “Tanner,” I warned, my voice low.

  “Please tell me you aren’t paying him cash, Liz. He’s probably using it for drugs or something.”

  “Stop being ridiculous.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Ridiculous? I’m being realistic. We don’t really know anything about this guy, except that he works with Crazy Henson. And I mean, look at him; he has the look of some psychopath or killer, or Hitler or something. It’s creepy.”

  “If you want to stop being a jerk, you can head inside and get some pizza. Otherwise, we should catch up later, Tanner.”

  His head shook back and forth. “I’m going to run inside and say hi to Emma, then I’ll get out of your hair.” He went inside the house with his hands stuffed in his jeans, and I sighed. When he came out, he gave me a wary smile. “There’s something different about you, Liz. I can’t put my finger on it, but you’re acting strange ever since you came back. It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

  Maybe you never did.

  “We’ll chat later, okay?”

  He nodded and walked back to his car. “Hey,” he hollered in Tristan’s direction. Tristan turned and looked his way with narrowed eyes. “You missed a patch to your left.” Tristan blinked once, then went back to what he was doing as Tanner drove off.

  After Tristan finished, he walked over to the porch and gave me a semi-broken smile. “Elizabeth?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I…” His words stuttered off, and he cleared his throat, scratching at his beard. He stepped up closer to me. I watched the sweat sitting at his hairline began to fall against his forehead and such a big part of me longed to wipe it away.

  “Can you what?” I whispered, staring at his lips longer than I should have.

  He inched closer, making my heart rate increase. I stopped breathing and simply stared at him. My head tilted slightly as his brown eyes seemed to be staring at my mouth, the same way I stared at his.

  “Can I…” he muttered.

  “Can you…” I echoed.

  “Do you think…”

  “Do I think…”

  He looked into my eyes. My heartbeats somehow slowed yet sped up all at once. “Do you think I could use your shower? My hot water is out.”

  A small, low breath passed through my lips and I nodded. “Yes. A shower. Yeah, of course.” He smiled and thanked me. “You can borrow some of Steven’s clothes, so you don’t have to run over to your place.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to.” I nodded. “I want to.” We headed inside and I grabbed a plain white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from my bedroom for Tristan. Then I picked up some washcloths and towels for him to use. “Here you go. There’s shampoo and soap in the shower already. I’m sorry but most of it smells girly.”

  He chuckled. “Better than my current smell.”

  I hadn’t heard him laugh before. It was such a welcomed sound. "Okay, well, anything you need can be found under the sink, too. I’ll be around.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” I said, and I meant it.

  He began chewing on the inside of his cheek and nodded once before closing himself into the bathroom. A sigh left me as I disappeared to go put Emma to bed to keep myself busy until Tristan was done in the shower.

  Walking down the hallway toward the bathroom, I paused when I reached the open door. Tristan was standing in front of the bathroom sink wearing only the sweatpants I’d given him.

  Tristan ran his hands through his long, wet hair that he tossed into a man bun on his head. He brought a razorblade to his upper lip, making me twitch. “You’re shaving?”

  He stopped his movement and glanced my way once before he made his mustache cease to exist. He then trimmed his beard to the point that it was almost invisible.

  “You shaved.” I sighed, staring at a man who looked so different than mere minutes before. His lips looked fuller, his eyes brighter.

  He broke his stare away from me and went back to studying his now nude face in the mirror. “I didn’t want to look like a serial killer, or worse—Hitler.”

  My stomach dropped. “You overheard Tanner.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “You didn’t look like Hitler,” I said softly, making him turn and notice that I was gawking at his every move. Trying my best to gather my scattered thoughts, I kept speaking. “His comment didn’t even really make sense because you know Hitler had the”—I placed my finger under my nose—“little mustache and you had the”—I moved my hands all around my chin—“lumberjack type beard. Tanner, he was just being…I don’t know…protective of me in a weird way. He’s like my big brother. But he was wrong to say those things. And out of line.”

  His face was stone as his gaze searched mine. He had such solid bone structure that made it almost impossible to look away from him. Tristan lifted the shirt from the countertop and slid it over his body before he walked past me, brushing against my shoulder. “Thanks again,” he said.

  “Again, anytime.”

  “Is it hard? Seeing me wearing his clothes?”

  “Yes. But at the same time, it just makes me want to hug you, because it would kind of be like hugging him.”

  “That’s weird.” He smiled, playfully.

  “I’m weird.”

  I didn’t expect it, but when his arms wrapped around me, I slowly melted into him. What was shocking was how far away from sadness I felt in that moment. There was something about the way he softly massaged my back and gently rested his chin on my head that brought me a level of peace I hadn’t seen in some time. I felt selfish, holding on to him tighter, because I wasn’t ready to release the feeling of not being alone. Within those few minutes of Tristan holding me, my mind stopped reminding me how lo
nely I was. Within those few quiet moments, I found the comfort I’d been missing.

  I hadn’t even noticed I was crying until I felt his thumbs rubbing beneath my eyes, wiping the tears away. We were closer together, my hands twisted against the T-shirt, his hands pulling me closer to his body. When his lips separated, my own parted, and we breathed against one another. As his eyes closed, mine faded shut, and we stayed quiet together. I wasn’t certain whose lips touched whose first, but we kept them pressed together. We weren’t kissing, but merely holding our mouths together, sending breaths into one another’s lungs, holding each other up from falling into our own obscurity.

  Tristan breathed in while I breathed out.

  I thought about kissing him.

  “My hot water isn’t out,” he said softly.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I thought about kissing him again.

  I looked up into his stormy eyes and saw a bit of life. My heartbeats quickened as I held on to him, not wanting to let go any time soon.

  “I should go,” he said.

  “You should go,” I replied.

  I thought about kissing him some more.

  “Unless you stayed,” I said.

  “Unless I stayed,” he replied.

  “My best friend told me I should use sex to help me move on from losing Steven.” I sighed against his lips. “But I’m not ready to forget. I’m not ready to move on. But I do want this.” I sighed, studying his embrace of me. “I want you to be here with me, because it helps me. It helps me remember what it felt like to be wanted. I just.” I lowered my head, almost embarrassed by my words. “I miss having someone to take care of me.”

  Tristan stepped closer, lowered his voice, and brushed his lips against my ear. “I’ll help. I’ll help you hold onto him. I’ll help you remember. I’ll take care of you.”

  “We’ll use each other to remember them?”