The Elements Series Complete Box Set

by Brittainy Cherry

  “I got nothing to say to anyone.” Standing from the table, I turned to walk away, but paused when I heard Mom cry.

  “It’s breaking my heart to see you like this. Please, just say whatever’s on your mind.”

  “What’s on my mind?” I turned to her, my brows knit, my stomach knotted, my mind clouded. “What’s on my mind is the fact that you were behind the fucking wheel. What’s on my mind is the fact that you fucking walked away with a broken arm. What’s on my mind is that my family is fucking dead and you were the one driving the car—you were… YOU KILLED THEM! You did this! You’re the reason they are dead! You murdered my family!” My throat tightened, my fists formed, and I stopped talking.

  Mom cried more and more, her howls becoming louder and louder. Dad rushed into the room and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her some sort of peace of mind. I stared at her, feeling the distance between us. I felt the beast inside me growing more and more each passing moment. As I studied her tears, it should’ve sickened me that I didn’t feel pity for her. It should’ve worried my soul that I didn’t feel the need to comfort her.

  I merely hated her.

  Because of her, they were gone.

  Because of her, I was gone.

  I was becoming a monster inside, and monsters didn’t comfort people. Monsters destroyed everything that crossed their path.

  When I stepped into the shed, I slammed the door, locking it from the inside. “Shit!” I shouted, staring into the darkened space, staring at the scarred walls and bookshelves. The memories were rushing over me, choking my mind, suffocating my heart. I couldn’t take anymore.

  I sent one of the bookshelves flying to the other side of the room, my heart beating at a speed I was certain would cause an attack. I leaned against the closest wall and closed my eyes, trying to take back the control of my breaths and my heart that had somehow been stolen from me.

  There was a knock at the door.

  I wouldn’t answer it.

  I couldn’t.

  I could’ve killed him. I could’ve killed him. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

  I knew Elizabeth would try to pull me back to her, pull me into the light. She would try to save me from myself. I couldn’t be saved.

  She kept tapping lightly, and my footsteps moved toward the sound of her knocks. My hands ran across each other before I stood in front of the door, placing my hands flat against it.

  I assumed that her hands were resting on the other side of the door, her fingertips mirroring mine.

  “Tris.” She softly spoke eight words that made my chest tighten. “Every second. Every minute. Every hour. Every day.”

  I held my breath. Her words seemed more honest than ever before. She kept speaking, her voice filled with urgency. “Please open the door, Tristan. Please let me back in. Come back to me.”

  My hands fell from the door, and I rubbed my fingers against one another over and over again. “I could’ve killed him.”

  “You wouldn’t have,” she said.

  “Go away, Elizabeth,” I said. “Please, just leave me alone.”

  “Please.” She begged for me to open the door. “I’m not leaving until I see you. I’m not leaving until you let me hold you.”

  “Jesus!” I shouted, ripping the door wide open. “Go away.” My soul was wrung with a sudden, wild homesickness as I stared into her eyes. My stare faltered off toward the ground, unable to look at the one thing that made heaven almost seem real in my mind. “And then stay gone, Elizabeth.” I would just hurt you. You deserve more than me.

  “You…you don’t mean that,” she said, her voice cracking. I couldn’t look at her anymore.

  “I do,” I said. “You can’t save me.” I closed the door and locked the shed once more. She pounded against it, screaming my name, begging for an explanation, begging for answers to all the unknown questions, but I stopped listening.

  I stared at my hands, seeing the blood, unsure if it was Tanner’s or my own, feeling it against my fingers, under my nails, everywhere. It was as if the walls were bleeding, and I couldn’t see a way out.

  I wanted him to know I was sorry. I wanted him to know I shouldn’t have snapped. I wanted it all to be a dream. I wanted to wake up and have my family back. I wanted to wake up and never know how much hearts could truly break.

  But mostly, I wanted to let Elizabeth know that I loved her. Every second. Every minute. Every hour. Every day.

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

  When I found the strength to leave the shed many hours later, I opened the door to find a shivering Elizabeth on the ground, wrapped in her winter coat. “You should’ve gone home,” I said, my voice low.

  She shrugged.

  I bent down and lifted her into my arms. She wrapped her arms around me and clung to my body.

  “What did he say to you?” she whispered against my chest.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She held me tighter as I carried her into her house. “It does matter. It matters a lot.”

  I placed her in bed and turned to leave her room. She asked me to stay with her, but I knew I couldn’t. My mind wasn’t in a good place. Before I left her house, I stopped in her bathroom to clean the blood from my hands. As the water ran hot, I scrubbed my hands together aggressively, trying to get all the blood off. I couldn’t stop. I kept scrubbing, adding more soap, even after all of the blood was gone.

  “Tristan,” Elizabeth said, breaking me from the trance I was in. She turned off the faucet, took a towel, and wrapped my fingers in the cloth. “What did he say to you?”

  I leaned forward, placing my forehead against hers. I breathed in her scent, trying my best to not fall apart. She was the only thing still holding me together. “He said I killed them. He said it was my fault that Jamie and Charlie were dead, and he said I would end up doing the same to you.” My voice cracked. “He was right. I killed them. I should’ve been there…I should’ve been able to save them.”

  “No,” she said in a commanding tone. “Tristan. You didn’t. What happened, whatever happened to Jamie and Charlie was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.”

  I nodded. “It was. It was my fault. I blamed my mom, but she…she loved them. It wasn’t her. It was me. It’s always been me…” Each word was harder to get out than the one before it. Breathing was becoming a chore. “I have to go.” I stepped away from her, but she blocked the exit. “Elizabeth, move.”

  “No.”

  “Lizzie—”

  “When I fell apart, when I hit rock bottom, you held me. When I lost it, you stayed. So take my hand and come to bed.”

  She led me to her bedroom, and for the first time, she unmade the right side of her bed for me to get under the sheets. I wrapped my arms around her as her head lay against my chest. “I ruined your birthday,” I said softly as sleep grew heavy on my eyelids.

  “It’s not your fault,” she replied. Over and over again, she said those words. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” As my heartbeats slowed to a normal pace, as my fingers caressed her skin, as I began to fall asleep, a part of me started to believe her.

  For a few hours that night, I remembered what it felt like to not be alone. For a few hours, I stopped blaming myself.

  31

  Elizabeth

  I tiptoed to the kitchen around six in the morning, leaving Tristan resting. The whole house was silent, but I could smell the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the rooms.

  “You’re a morning person too?” Mike asked, smiling my way with a mug of coffee in his hand. He seemed like such a friendly guy, and just seeing his smiling face made me feel awful for how I’d treated him and Mama the night before.

  He pulled out another mug and poured a cup of coffee for me. “Sugar? Cream?”

  “Black,” I replied, taking the mug from him.

  “Ah, something we have in common. I like to say your mom drinks her sugar and cream with a dash of coffee, but for me the
darker the better.” He sat down on the stool at the island and I sat beside him.

  “I owe you an apology, Mike. Yesterday was terrible.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes life is weird. You just have to deal with the weirdness and hope that you find some weirdos who will move forward with you.”

  “Is my mom your weirdo?”

  He smiled wide.

  She is.

  His fingers wrapped around his mug, and he stared into the dark coffee. “Richard was an awful person, Elizabeth, and he did some terrible things to Hannah. When they came into my office that day, I watched him put his hands on her in the worst way. I sent him out of my office, where he left her crying. I cancelled all of my appointments that day and allowed her to just sit in my office for as long as she needed. I understand you thinking that this thing between her and me is fake. I know all about her history with men, her history of hurt, and I want you to know that I love her. I love her so much and will spend the rest of my days protecting her from any more hurt.”

  The mug shook in my hands. “He hurt her? He hurt her, and I said those terrible things to her last night…”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “That doesn’t matter, though. I should’ve never said those things. If I were her, I wouldn’t forgive me.”

  “She already forgave you.”

  “I almost forgot that both of you are early birds.” Mama yawned, walking into the kitchen. She raised an eyebrow my way. “What’s wrong?” I stood up and rushed over to her, wrapping her in my arms. “Liz, what are you doing?”

  “Congratulating you on your engagement.”

  Her face lit up. “You’ll come to the wedding?”

  “Of course.”

  She hugged me back tighter. “I’m so glad, because the wedding is in three weeks for the New Year.”

  “Three weeks?!” I said, my voice rising. I paused, feeling the nerves in my gut. Mama didn’t need my opinion right now; she needed my support. “Three weeks! Wonderful!”

  Mama and Mike left a few hours later, after a game of Zombieland with Emma, complete with their own ketchup scars. Tristan, Emma, Zeus, and I sat on the couch for a while before Tristan pushed himself up on his elbows and looked my way. “Want to go shopping for my place?”

  We still hadn’t finished adding the small touches to his house—the things he claimed he didn’t give a crap about, like throw pillows, paintings, and all the small decorative things I loved. “Yes!” I chimed, always looking for a reason to go shopping.

  “Those are ugly, Tick!” Emma said, wrinkling her nose at Tristan’s choice of purple and mustard yellow throw pillows for his couch.

  “What?! These are great!” he argued.

  “They look like poop.” Emma laughed.

  I had to agree with her. “It’s almost as if you thought, ‘Ooh, let’s make my house completely hideous after Lizzie and Emma worked so hard to make it amazing.’”

  “Yeah.” Emma nodded. “It’s like you thought that.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You should just really leave this to the experts like Mama and me.”

  He laughed. “Tough crowd.” Emma stood on the back of the shopping cart and Tristan took her shooting around the corner, bumping straight into someone. “Sorry!” Tristan apologized quickly before looking up.

  “Uncle Tanner!” Emma squeaked, jumping off the cart running over to Tanner to wrap him in a hug.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Tanner said, giving her a squeeze before putting her down.

  “What happened to your face?!” Emma asked.

  Tanner looked my way. I stared at his bruises from the night before. Such a big part of me wanted to comfort him, but another part wanted to slap him across the face for what he’d said to Tristan about his family.

  “Tristan, do you think you could take Emma over to the paintings and have her pick out some artwork for you?” I asked.

  Tristan gently placed a hand on my forearm. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  I nodded. They walked off, but not before Tristan apologized to Tanner. Tanner didn’t utter a word to him, but the moment Emma and Tristan left, it seemed he had a ton of comments to spit my way.

  “Are you serious, Liz? Last night he attacks your friend and now you’re running around the store with him as if you are some happy family? And you sent him off alone with your daughter?! What would Steven—”

  “Did you say it was his fault his family is dead?”

  Tanner narrowed his eyes. “What?”

  “Tristan told me.”

  “Liz, look at my face.” He stepped in closer to me. My throat tightened as I stared at his black and blue eye. He pulled up his shirt to reveal his left side, which was badly bruised. “Look at my ribs. The man you just sent off with your daughter did this. He fucking attacked me like a beast, and you’re sitting here asking me what I said to him? I was drunk; I might have said some stupid things, but he snapped out of nowhere. I saw it in his eyes, Liz. He’s completely mad.”

  “You’re a liar.” He’s lying. He’s lying. Tristan is good. He’s so good. “You should’ve never said anything about his family. Never.” The heels of my feet spun me away from Tanner, and I yipped when I felt his tight grip on my forearm. He forced me to face him once more.

  “Listen, I get it. You’re mad at me. Fine. Be mad. Fucking hate my guts. But I know there’s something off about that guy. I know there’s something wrong with him and I’m not going to stop until I find out what it is, because I care too much about you and Emma to let anything happen to you both. Yeah, okay, I said some shit I shouldn’t have said, but did I deserve this? It will only be a matter of time before you say something wrong and he snaps on you.”

  “Tanner,” I said, my voice low. “You’re hurting me.”

  He dropped his tight hold from my arm, leaving red marks on my skin where his fingers had been. “Sorry.”

  When I reached the artwork section of the store, I found Tristan and Emma arguing over what to buy; of course, Emma was right. Tristan smiled my way and stepped toward me. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  I placed my hand against his cheek and stared into his eyes. His gaze was soft and gentle, reminding me of all the good things in the world. While Tanner saw hell in Tristan’s stare, I only saw heaven.

  It had been three weeks since my birthday, and slowly everything was going back to normal. That night we were driving to Mama’s town for her wedding that weekend, and before we could leave, Emma had somehow talked Tristan and me into getting her ice cream in twenty-degree weather.

  “I think mint ice cream is nasty!” Emma said as we walked back from the ice cream shop, Tristan holding her on his shoulders. She was eating a plain vanilla cone, dripping ice cream into his hair every now and then.

  As a few drops fell to his cheek, I leaned in and kissed them away, then gently kissed his lips.

  “Thanks for coming with us,” I said.

  “Mostly I just came for the mint,” he replied with a playful smirk. The smirk stayed on his lips until we walked closer to our houses. When his eyes met the steps of my porch, the playfulness left his eyes and he lowered Emma off his shoulders.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Tanner, who was sitting on my porch with papers in his grip.

  “We need to talk,” he said, standing up. His eyes shifted to Tristan before moving back to me. “Now.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I said sternly. “Besides, we are leaving in a few minutes to go visit my mom.”

  “Is he going with you?” he asked, his voice low.

  “Don’t start, Tanner.”

  “We have to talk.”

  “Tanner, look, I get it. You don’t like that I’m with Tristan, but I am. And we’re happy. I just don’t see why you can’t be—”

  “Liz!” he shouted, cutting me off. “I get it, whatever. But I need to talk to you.” His eyes were glassed over and his jaw was tight. “Please.”

  I looked at Tristan, who was staring
my way, waiting for me to decide my next move. It seemed as if Tanner truly had something to say, something that was eating at him. “Okay. Fine. Let’s talk.” He sighed with relief. I turned to Tristan. “I’ll see you in a few, okay?”

  He nodded and kissed my forehead before saying goodbye to me. Tanner followed Emma and me inside, and while Emma went to her room to play with some toys, we stood at the island in the kitchen. My hands gripped the edge of the counter.

  “What do you want to talk about, Tanner?”

  “Tristan.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “We have to.”

  Breaking away from his stare, I moved to the dishwasher and started to unload it, just to keep busy. “No, Tanner. I’m really sick of all of this. Aren’t you tired of all of this?”

  “Do you know what happened to his wife and kid? Do you know how they died?”

  “He doesn’t talk about it, and it doesn’t make him an awful person that he doesn’t talk about it. It makes him human.”

  “Liz, it was Steven.”

  “What was Steven?” I asked, tossing plates into the cabinets.

  “The accident with Tristan’s wife and kid. It was Steven. He was the car that drove them off the road.” My throat closed up, and I looked his way. His eyes locked with mine, and as I shook my head. He nodded. “I went digging for information on the guy, and I’ll be honest with you I was just looking for crap to make him out to be a monster. Faye came into my shop and begged me to stop my witch-hunt, because she was certain it would ruin the little friendship I still had left with you, but I had to know what the deal was with this guy. I didn’t find anything. It turns out he’s just a guy who lost his world.”

  “Tanner.”

  “But I did find these articles on the accident.” He held the papers out toward me, and I placed my hands over my chest. My heartbeats were erratic, skipping beats and then speeding up whenever it chose to. “When Steven’s car lost control, it slammed into a white Altima. The Altima had three passengers in it.”