by H. M. Ward
Chapter 46
Mari
After I stuff myself with fried chicken cutlet on a roll, followed up by a fried pie—yeah, I eat those sometimes even though they’re totally unhealthy and a million calories—I sit on the floor and squirm in the uncomfortable silence.
Trystan lies back on the couch, and I think he’s going to sleep until he starts talking. “I’m sorry about you and Derrick. That must be hard.” His arm is draped over his face. I watch him for a moment and envy the way he always seems to be relaxed. I can’t even fake it.
I pick at the crumbs of icing in my Hostess wrapper and pop a piece into my mouth. Mmmm. Sugar. “Better now than later.”
“I suppose, but aren’t you sad?” He drops his arm and props himself up on his elbow. “This used to be a lot easier when I could see you. Do you mind coming over here?”
My heart slams into my ribs and falls into my toes. I try to maintain the distance between us, but I know what he wants—he wants to see me with his hands. I’m sure it's platonic, but my feelings toward him are not. I’d be an asshole if I told him no, so I nod and then remember to talk. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Trystan sits up the rest of the way. The expression on his face doesn’t change. His dark hair dangles in his eyes in a way he rarely allowed when he could see. I have to block the urge to push it back. Actually, I have to resist a lot more than that. I ball up the wrapper and toss it in the trash before sitting down next to Trystan on the old couch.
He reaches for my hand but doesn’t take it. As his palm hovers, he asks, “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, I know it’s you and I’ll sense a lot more than with other people.”
I know what he means, and the truth is that I’m not sure about anything anymore. I don’t answer. Instead, I take his hand in mine and lace our fingers together. “What’d you want to talk about?”
“I want to know how you’re doing. I haven’t heard from you in a while—since the party actually.” His hand is warm in mine. I feel his thumb rub gently over my skin and my stomach flips in response.
“I know. I had to work through some stuff. You didn’t call me, did you?” I don’t think he did, but I don’t want him thinking I blew him off if he needed me. I would have dropped what I was doing and went to him no matter what was happening. Friendship is like that—bad things happen, and they’re usually at the worst time. A real friend shows up. I promised myself I’d always be there for him.
“No,” he breathes. His head hangs between his shoulders as he continues to talk. His thumb moves in slow circles, and I swear I can feel him thinking. “I planned on it, but then things—my eyes—got a lot worse. It was like someone flipped a switch and everything vanished. Within a week that little spot engulfed most of my vision. I can’t see much anymore, and what I can make out is so difficult to see that it might as well not be there at all.” He lets out a rush of air before putting his other hand on top of mine, enclosing my hand between his hands.
“I wish I could fix it.” I want to wrap my arms around him and cry, but he doesn’t want that. It’s not pride. It’s more that he’s accepted what life threw at him and is done sobbing over it. Even though he is, I’m not.
“I know.” He bites his lower lip a few times and then turns toward me. He takes my cheeks in his hands and gently turns my face toward him. “The doc your dad set me up with determined the cause, and I’ve been wrestling with it. At first I wanted to lash out at him, but now—I don’t want to waste another second of my life thinking about him. My father stole my mother, my childhood, and my future. One too many blows to the head and he fucked me over for life. I didn’t call you then because I needed to wrestle with this on my own. Katie came by, and I told her I was okay and sent her away, too. She probably thought I was going to flip out.”
His hands gently hold my face as he speaks. When I reply, his touch lightens and makes me shiver. Goosebumps erupt on my arms, and I have to fight the urge to pull away. Talking to him like this makes me feel stripped bare. “We were worried about you, but I understand wanting to figure out how you feel about it before people tell you how you should feel. That’s pretty much the same thing I was doing with Derrick. I've replayed all those months with him, finally seeing the snippets of his true character only after he went nuts at the party. It makes me question everything—like I shouldn’t trust myself anymore.”
Trystan can’t see me, but part of me suspects he can because his eyes lock on my lips. I’m squirming inside, wishing I could pull away and keep my secrets, but part of me doesn’t want that at all—I want him to know.
He drops his hand, sliding it down my cheek and brushing his thumb over my lips. Trystan’s head tips to the side slightly, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I know what you mean, but you can trust yourself, Mari. I know you. You consider every scenario ten million ways before you make a decision. You think you can run through every option, good or bad, and determine which path to take. Sometimes, no matter how much you consider something, you still can’t see the bad coming. Sometimes the only way through the fire is directly through the center—we can’t skirt it, and that’s not our fault.”
My heart races faster as he speaks and that thumb sits on my lower lip. Trystan leans in close enough to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He lingers there halfway between friendship and something more. It makes me want to scream, cry, and laugh all at the same time. I finally act on the urge to push his hair back and rest my hands on the back of his neck and rest my forehead against his. “My dad likes you now.”
Trystan smirks. “Damn, and I was trying to get the other Dr. Jennings to fall for me. I hit the wrong one with my sexy man charm.” He laughs, and I can’t help it, I giggle softly.
“Man charm? Is that what this is?
“Honestly, I’m not certain since I can’t see what I’m doing.” He tries to hide a smile and pulls back a tiny bit.
I feign shock. “So you think you don’t have what it takes to make a woman notice you anymore?” Emotion rips through me in a wave of panic, so raw and desperate that I know I hit a sore spot—a wound that’s still open. The smile fades from my voice. I reach for him and hold his face between my hands. “Are you crazy? You’re Trystan Scott. For the longest time, every man has wanted to be you, and every girl wants to be with you. This,” I lean in and kiss the corner of one eye and then the other, “is part of what makes you incredible. It’s what makes people look up to you and find strength when theirs is gone. You’ve had a hellish life, and you still live with a smile on your lips. Trystan, if anything, you’re more attractive now.”
His eyes become glassy, and he pulls out of my grip. He blinks rapidly trying to keep the tears from falling, but they roll down his cheeks anyway. “Why? Why should I believe you and not think that it’s bullshit made to pity me? I can’t stand pity, Mari. How am I supposed to go through life with people looking at me like that?” He mashes his lips together and stops talking abruptly.
I put a hand on his knee so he can sense my sincerity. “It’s not pity—not from me and not from anyone else—it’s awe. You inspire people. They see your strength and want to be like you. I want to be like you. And as for me, it adds a layer to you that wasn’t there before.”
He laughs bitterly. “What? Blindness? Gee, thanks.”
“No, it strips that cocky façade away and forces you to be vulnerable. You don’t like it because it wasn't your choice, but isn’t that the way it’s always been with us? I mean this—” I take his hands in mine and hold them between us, lacing our fingers together. A wave of emotion hits me hard, and I drop my guard in response. He’s afraid, and I know it has something to do with me.
“Even this isn’t the same as what it used to be.”
I lick my lips and carefully tread across a minefield. It feels like we’re standing on a sheet of thin glass and one wrong move will destroy everything. “No, it’s not. I feel it too. It’s different, stronger. You never needed your eyes to read me, Trystan. Focus
on this, on the touch and forget the rest. What do you feel?”
My heart is wide open with nothing protecting me. If he says something, it’ll destroy me, but fear erodes his confidence, betraying him. I matter the most to him. I can feel it. What I think about him matters so much that he’s scared to hear what I actually think. The truth rolls off like lies, and he won’t hear it—but if he feels how I feel, how I’ve felt all along, he’ll know.
Trystan’s grip tightens, and he keeps his face lowered so I can’t see, but I don’t have to see him to know what he thinks. That is my point.
I close my eyes and focus on his skin, on his touch. I sense the chasm between us shrinking alongside the terror I feel in facing him like this. Last time I gave him my heart, he stabbed me. I shove the thought away and replace it with what I know of him now. I accept the whole thing, who he was, who he is now, and whatever comes next.
Emotion swirls in my chest until I can put a word to it. All that hope, faith, and trust point my mind toward one word. Fear juts up from somewhere within and I try to pull away, but Trystan holds on tight.
He clamps down on my hands and pulls my hands to his chest, so we’re face to face. “Were you trying to hide that?” He’s breathless but calmer than before.
“I didn’t know.” I didn’t know that I love you. I didn’t put it to words until now, and the realization makes me want to run away. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if this ruins our friendship? What if…?
Trystan drops my hands and lifts them to my face. He spreads them across my cheeks and leans in so close. His lashes lower and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. “What if I told you I still think about you? What if I confessed that losing you was the worst mistake of my life? I love you, Mari. I always have, and always will. Do you love me?” He knows the answer to that question already—he can feel it filling my body from head to toe.
I blink rapidly, trying to put my feelings into coherent words. “I,” my jaw flops like a docked fish, and I can’t speak.
Trystan leans in and wipes the tears from my eyes with the pads of his fingers, gently pushing them away. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to each eyelid, slowly, softly. “I love the way you see the world, the way you live in it and change it for the better. I love the way you fight for kids and people who need someone to look out for them.”
“How’d you know—?”
He smiles. “You’re an advocate for the poor, typically children and the elderly. You're the hospital liaison, the only one who willingly stands between the corporation and the people each year. You volunteered for that job. You protect those who can’t protect themselves.”
“Trystan, that’s not public knowledge.”
“I’ve got people.”
I grin and try to pull away, but he holds me tight. “Bob?”
“He’s the size of two people, so sure. Let’s say Bob’s been following your career for a while and maybe telling me about it. What’s worth noting is what you said about me—that people find strength when they hear my story—that’s what happens every time I hear about you. You’re the one who gives me the strength to keep going. It’s always been you, Mari.”
His hands suddenly drop from my face, and he pulls away.
There’s only one thing holding me back, and it’s fear. It shouldn’t be there, but I need to hear him say it. “Promise me one thing, when life gets hard, never set me free again. I know you were trying to be selfless, and give me a quiet life, but if you’re not part of it—”
He offers one of those cocky smiles and glances at me over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do that to you again. I promise. There’s one thing I need from you?” He picks at his callous on his left hand as he speaks.
I scoot closer to him, so our hips are touching. “What’s that, Day Jones?”
“I need to hear you say it because this is unbelievable and when I wake up, I’ll think it was a dream.” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “Three little words, Mari Jennings, Dr. Kiss Ninja. Let me hear you say them.”
My stomach swirls like I swallowed a tornado. I want to laugh hysterically while simultaneously crying, and my entire body tingles like I ate an entire bag of Pixy Stix. It’s like Christmas morning, but it won’t end when I unwrap the present.
I lean in close to his face and say what he wants to hear, kissing his lips softly as I say each word, “I. Love. You.”
Chapter 47
Mari
The words hang in the air while we both sit there in shock. Trystan is breathing hard, gripping his knees like he might tear his jeans off. He doesn’t look over at me when he speaks. “So.”
I laugh nervously. “Yeah, well, this is weird.”
“It is. I admit that if I could see you, I would have kissed you by now—maybe more.”
I laugh. “Are you confessing that you have speedy issues? Because, I love you, and I’ll deal, but—”
That breaks the strange tension. Trystan reaches for me, placing one hand on my stomach and the other on my waist and tickles. I try to push him away, but he’s relentless.
“I do not have speedy issues! How could you even think that?” His fingers find my belly button, and I squeal.
Swatting at his hands, I fall off the couch and land between the couch and the coffee table. Trystan holds out his arms and closes his eyes, “Marco?”
I start laughing so hard I can’t move.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘Polo.’ Come on Mari.” Trystan feels his way to the place where I am on the floor. He puts one leg on each side of my body and lowers his face to mine, then grabs my cheeks in one hand and mimics my voice. “Polo!”
I’m laughing so hard my entire body is shaking. I bite at his hand and catch it in my teeth. He seems shocked for a second and then shrugs. “If you’re into that, then so am I.” He laughs for a second, seeming truly happy.
He lowers his body on top of mine, and I can feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin, and the scent of his cologne filling my head. He’s propped up on his elbows with his hands in my hair. He lowers his lips to mine, slowly, kissing me so softly, with so much yearning and devotion, that every giggle inside of me transforms into bliss.
I wrap my arms around him and thread my fingers through his hair. I want the kiss to be deeper, harder, but he lingers lightly stroking my lips with his tongue before pulling away. He sits up, straddling me, and laughs. “Mari, this is—” He tips his head back and laughs at the ceiling like this is a cruel joke.
“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. You already know the basics, or so I’ve heard.” I rest my hands on his hips to make sure he doesn’t move.
“I can’t see you. I don’t know if I’m even doing things right, touching the right places, because I can’t see it.” He sounds pained, like he doesn’t want to mess this up and doesn’t know how to go forward.
“Hey, we don’t need to see to do this. Here.” I push him off my lap and shove his shoulders back until he’s on the couch. I flip off the light switch behind his head, and the room is plummeted into darkness. “Now, we’re even. I can’t see my nose. Or my hand.” I’m waving my fingers in the air in front of my face and hit something.
“That’s my nose.” His voice still sounds pinched.
“Then I’m a little too high, huh? Hold on.” I don’t say what I’m doing, I feel around in the darkness for him and find his shirt. I peel it off and then place my hands on his chest and slide them over his body, admiring every toned muscle. The rise and fall of his chest increases and I feel him lay back against the arm of the couch.
The pads of my fingers follow the lines of his body, tracing his neck, to his nipples, to the Y that begins slightly above the waist of his jeans. When I reach for the button, he stops me, flips me over and copies my movements. He tosses my shirt across the room and pushes me back into the couch. Leaving my bra in place, he uses his fingertips to see me. Ten fingers touch me lightly, starting at my neck and trailing down over my bra,
and stopping at my stomach. I inhale sharply, pressing my hips up into him.
His hands are different than last time. The calluses are still there from playing so much, but the way he touches me is so soft, so careful—like he doesn’t want to miss a thing. He slides his hands up the center of my torso and does it again, this time unhooking my bra and tossing it.
I wait for him, butterflies swirling inside me, wondering what he’ll do next. When his hot body presses against mine, and I feel those lips on mine, I melt. It’s a kiss that defies reality. It’s soft and precious, and as he sweeps his tongue across the seam of my lips, lights flicker behind my eyes. Something sizzles to life inside of me, and I can feel him in a way that can’t be real. His heart beats in sync with mine, our breathing is in rhythm, and I swear I can feel his soul touch mine. It’s a kiss, a perfect kiss at the perfect time.
When he pulls away, he’s breathless. “Did you feel that?”
“Yes, I did.” We laugh nervously, like a couple of kids that haven’t done this before. This part is unique, something that only happens with him.
I pull his lips to mine and kiss him softly. The sensations swallow us both, and we stay in each other's arms through the night.
Chapter 48
Mari
I’m half asleep in Trystan’s arms when I hear the screech of a metal door in serious need of oil. I dart upright. “Someone’s here.”
Trystan groans. “It’s Monday morning, the entire school is supposed to be here.”
“Yeah, but there shouldn’t be any morning classes down here. Drama is an after school activity here.” I check my shirt to make sure it’s not inside out and look at Trystan. He’s all sexy with his shirt clinging to that body and his jeans still undone.
“You might want to button up.”
He grins, remembering last night. “Anything for you.” He fixes his jeans and walks toward the sound of my voice, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. He kisses the back of my neck, and my knees nearly give out. “I love you.”