She pulls the top back to reveal a key. I push myself to standing and pull her up behind me. She looks surprised and confused, but I just smile mischievously and say, “I want to take you somewhere.”
Hazel
When Tristan drives down the familiar dirt driveway I feel butterflies in my stomach. As we approach the lot, I’m surprised to see that the house, while still not completely finished, looks like it’s been worked on quite a bit.
We walk up to what I imagine is supposed to be the front. The walls aren’t up yet, but a purple door is framed in the middle of the open sides. I find myself speechless as I walk up to it in what feels like slow motion.
Tristan smiles and nods to the key in my hand before pointing to the doorknob. “Why don’t you give it a try?”
I laugh. “You know I can just walk around it, right? I don’t think a lock is doing you any good right now,” I can’t help but tease.
Tristan gets a serious look and stalks across the porch toward me. He grabs my hips and kisses me in such an unexpectedly gentle way that I’m left breathless as he pulls back and whispers in my ear, “Just put your key in my damn lock, will ya?”
I do exactly as he says, and when I twist the key I hear a small click as the door pops open. I step inside and right in the middle of the unfinished room is a blanket with pillows spread on the floor, along with a bottle of sparkling cider sitting in an ice bucket. When I look up, directly above it is a simple, delicate ring hanging from the rafters by a piece of string.
My right hand flies to my mouth as Tristan unties it and slips it onto my left ring finger.
“Hazel Blake, will you marry me?”
I nod repeatedly, whispering, “Yes,” over and over as I throw myself into his arms. My mouth finds his and we stumble to the ground.
I lie on top of him and we both pause at the same time. Suddenly there doesn’t seem to be any hurry. In the past, it always felt like we were racing some invisible clock—a clock that kept time with the past—and we were just waiting for it to catch up with us. But now? Now it feels like we have all the time in the world.
I sit up and pull my shirt over my head before shimmying out of my jeans. I run my fingers under the hem of Tristan’s shirt, feeling the strength of his toned stomach. I slide my hands slowly up his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath my palm. I love that we make each other come to life.
I pull his shirt from his body and as I begin to unbutton his jeans he reaches into his pocket. I stop him. “I want us to feel all of each other, with nothing in the way of that.”
His eyes turn dark and hungry and he pulls me closer to him. He sits up so I’m straddling him and his mouth finds my nipple. I arch back with a moan, unable to contain the pure ecstasy surging through my body. I dig my fingers into his shoulders as I feel him fill me.
This time, as we make love, it’s not about hurting or punishing and it’s not about winning or losing. It’s not even about reaching that ultimate peak.
It’s about feeling each other in this moment. No expectations. No rules. No end.
And nothing so unanchored has ever felt this sure.
As Tristan’s teeth scrape over my skin he vows, “This is home, Hazel. This is our home and it’s the place we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.”
We continue to move together in perfect rhythm until our bodies meld into one being. We fearlessly come apart together, never letting go.
Day turns into night and for the first time I find myself looking forward to what comes next. We lie back and watch the stars through the open, unfinished roof.
This is home.
And it’s perfect.
Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
Tristan
Six weeks later
“Really, T? You built her a fucking house? I thought all that Notebook style shit was only in movies. Way to make the rest of us look like losers.”
“I bet Kinsley is regretting choosing you over me now.”
I grin at Lucas as he walks back to his wife, knowing he’s only giving me shit because he’s happy for me.
I insisted on throwing Hazel a party to celebrate her getting both her CNA certification and her first job offer. Since I just finished up our house last week, it seemed like the perfect time to have everyone over. I’m so fucking proud of her. She’ll never know how much, even though I tell her all the time.
I also show her, thoroughly and repeatedly. Sometimes we even take pictures of it.
And no, you can’t see them. Fucking pervert.
From the front porch I look out across the yard and see all the people I care about in one place.
Lucas, Kinsley, and my brother are off making gaga faces at Caden while Ryan and Kelley try to steal kisses when they think no one is looking. I even saw the sly bastard grab her ass three separate times. One night when we were all out at dinner we agreed there should be no more secrets, so they finally admitted the real story behind their relationship. I, of course, will give Ryan endless amounts of shit about it, but it was a relief to know that Hazel and I aren’t the only effed-up ones when it comes to love.
Speaking of Hazel, she’s in the driveway showing off her piece-of-shit car to the Turners as her mother looks on with an embarrassed scowl. I was surprised Hazel wanted to invite her mom, but I wasn’t about to get in the middle of that. When Holly arrived she took one look at the purple door and said, “Well it certainly is . . . colorful.” Hazel smiled at me and whispered that it was as close to a compliment as we were going to get.
And for the first time ever I found out I actually agree with Holly Blake on one thing—the crap-mobile looks like a death trap. But I also know how much it means to Hazel, so I keep my mouth shut. Sometimes she’ll take me for a drive on the weekends, after we finish our volunteer shift at the Greenside Rehab Center. Hazel said she wanted to give back, and I decided it might do me some good, too. I figure I’ve done enough bad shit in my life that the good karma can’t hurt. And I admit it feels right to help heal other people together, after all the hurt we’ve caused.
I stalk over to Hazel and throw my arm around her shoulders. She beams at me and I smile back.
For the first time my shit-eating grin is one hundred percent genuine—I am without a doubt the luckiest bastard alive.
The End.
Find out more
Want a little behind the scenes peek about the making of this book? Head on over to https://jshbooks.com/books/sick-pleasure/behind-the-book/ for more!
I’m going to keep these short and sweet . . .
To the greatest husband ever—Clifford, I am forever thankful you’re you.
To my family—You guys make me proud to be me.
To Heidi Fiedler—I can’t thank you enough for recommending Pat to me! Match made in editorial heaven. <3
To Pat Dobie—I am so happy Heidi led me to you! Your incredible insight and enthusiasm over this book made writing this story exciting again. (Seriously, I was having quite the tough time before I sent you the first draft!) I loved this story and these characters from the beginning, but getting it to translate on the page was hard. You provided all the right notes in all the right places and I found myself eagerly checking my inbox just to hear what you were thinking. :)
To Kari March—Thank you again for an amazing cover.
To Christine and Nichole at Perfectly Publishable—Once again you two are the best for finalizing all the last minute details and making this book beautiful for all to read.
And finally, to anybody who reads this—You rock. End of story.
When she’s not making confetti as head honcho over at The Confetti Bar (theconfettibar.com), co-dreaming with creative women through Monarch Workshop (monarchworkshop.com), and blogging about her health & wellness journey going sugar-free at Simple Unsweet (simpleunsweet.com), Jessica loves to spend her nights getting caugh
t up in imaginary worlds.
She lives in central CT with her husband, Clifford, and the cutest cat EVER, named Curious.
She loves colorful things, making people smile, things that smell good, and is obsessed with lemon water. And glitter. Lots of glitter.
She also loves, well . . . love. (She’s a sucker for a sweet story.)
You can check out what she’s up to at jshbooks.com and on Instagram (@jshbooks)
Want to know anything else? Feel free to say hi at [email protected]!
Sick Pleasure (Crazy Beautiful Book 3) Page 16