All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2016 by Angela McPherson
Cover Design © 2016 by Sean Hayden
Cover Photo © 2016 by Depositphotos/Wavebreakmedia
All rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Untold Press LLC
114 NE Estia Lane
Port St Lucie, FL 34983
www.untoldpress.com
PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To my family: Blake, Tailer, Thomas, and Trinity, I love you. Always.
To my readers,
You've taken a chance on this series and stuck with me until the end, even though it took me forever to get there. You've laughed, yelled, cried, and fallen in love with these characters as much as I have, and for that, I am forever grateful and humbly honored. You guys made staying up late to finish just one more chapter totally worth it.
To my family and friends,
I am so blessed to have so many family and friends in my life who have supported me. You know who you are and I want you all to know, I couldn't do this without you.
Rayna, you have no idea how much I love you. You were the first person to read Elle and Tristan's story and the one who pushed me to finish. Your friendship means more than you know.
Brandi, girl, you have no idea! Without your enthusiasm and support, I'd be a sobbing mess.
Jodie Larson, OMG! You are one of the most amazing people in the world! I'm so glad to have you in my corner! It's so great to have awesome writing buddies like you!
#Workdate Ladies: D. Nichole King, Laura Thalassa, and Sunniva Dee, thank you for all the fun!
Kim Light and Amanda Hale, you are my go-to peeps. Thank you for always being there, and for reading and re-reading, and re-reading stuff again... even when my characters cry too much or curse more than they should. Your feedback makes me a better writer, and your friendship makes going to work easy.
Kat Davis-Muynila and Neilliza Swaffar, you two are in a league of your own! You rock so hard!
Jen Wylie and Sean Hayden, you two accepted my very first story and continued to believe in me years later. Thank you for all you've done. My stories get better, and it is because of you and your dedication.
Lynn Vroman, just when I think I've got everything down, you show me something new. You are the backbone of this story, and without your help and guidance, Interception wouldn't be as amazing as it is today. You've been there through the tears, and laughter, and all the little things in between. Thank you for not letting me give up, but mainly, thank you for your friendship.
With God, all things are possible.
Xoxo,
Angela
Tristan
Every day started with the same routine: morning jog, classes, football drills, homework, and repeat. Elle and I were always busy, so last night I set aside time for the two of us. You know, candles, dinner, the works. Only she didn't show, which led to the current standoff in the living room when I tried to leave.
"Not now, Elle. I've got shit to do."
"Awesome. I'll be at the paper. Rixon's meeting me." She turned. "Not that you give a damn."
The fuck! My scalp stung from scraping my nails through my hair. Didn't want to argue with Elle, but I snapped. One mention of the guy's name–the same asshole who monopolized her time, and I lost my calm.
"Go fucking figure. Run to another guy when shit gets rough."
Damned if she didn't fight back. Elle whipped around. "But it's okay to hang with Kim? Still getting over our 'time-out'?" Elle air quoted. "Oh, wait? Cooking classes and shit is apparently fair game?"
Of course, she'd mention the chick I met in culinary class, wouldn't she? I stepped forward, my shoes kissing her socks, and held her heated gaze. Adrenaline surged through my veins. What I really wanted to do was thread my fingers through her silky hair, pull her to me, and own her. But pride was a mother.
"Kim isn't trying to fuck me, sweetheart." Five short seconds was all the time I had to prepare for the sting of her palm against my cheek.
Tears mixed with the anger in her eyes. "How dare you?" she seethed. "I figured you'd give me a little more credit." Elle swirled around and headed down the hall to the bedroom. Pictures knocked against the wall when the door slammed.
"Goddammit!" My cell in hand, I snatched the keys off the coffee table and left. The house vibrated when the front door shut, but at that point, I didn't care.
The engine roared and tires squealed as I raced down the street. Hadn't driven but five minutes before the phone buzzed. Without checking the caller ID, I answered the phone.
"What?"
"Someone needs to get laid."
"Paul?" I shook my head, hardly believing it was him on the other end. I hadn't heard from him since the last email he sent from the Middle East.
Paul razzed me more. "Lemme guess, Elle get smart and leave your dumb ass?"
The light changed from red to green, and I advanced down the street, calmer than when I left Elle.
Elle.
I fucked up. Never should have gone off on her. Elle wouldn't leave me for another man. But I didn't like Rixon, and her walking away after a fight to go be with the same prick was like pouring alcohol on a wound. It burned.
Paul interrupted my internal debate. "Silence won't help, bro. Give me something."
Hard plastic from the steering wheel cut into the creases of my fingers. Didn't matter, I gripped the wheel tighter. "Nothing, man."
"Bullshit, fucker."
Had to love his verbal brutality. The truth was, I missed the skinny bastard. Paul and I'd been best friends, thick as thieves since we made Mrs. Webber cry in first grade. I remember the day clearly. Fresh from the playground, we'd put a stiff, dead frog on the teacher's chair. Never heard a grown woman wail so loudly. Good times. After high school Paul enlisted, so now communication consisted of emails with the occasional phone call.
"Sorry, man. Caught me at a bad time."
"You and Elle working through something?"
My laugh sounded harsh and cold. "Something like that," I admitted.
I loved Elle, too much at times. Waking up with her side of the bed vacant was a reality I'd faced not long ago, and I never wanted to experience that type of emptiness again.
"You talk to your girl?"
"Nope." I seethed, driving in circles for the fuck of it.
"You afraid she'll bail?"
My mouth dried. Yeah, bail, hightail it out of my house and my life forever. Sometimes that fear seeped down deep to a place I ignored because I didn't want to face certain demons–being a chickenshit was safer.
Maybe I was tired of denying the truth. At that moment, I decided to be honest and put my insecurities out in the open. Paul had that effect.
"Yeah, man. So much it makes me a little crazy." I turned onto a residential street and parked. At the sight of homes–with open yards for kids and dogs to play in–my heart knocked against my rib cage. I pictured a future with Elle, starting out in a place similar to one of these. Those chances were slim if I didn't get my shit together.
Skepticism messed me up when I had time to think. But during the heated moments when I cherished her body, explored the dips and curves along her silky skin, and relished every sound of pleasure she released, I didn't think. Didn't have to.
"When Elle left last y
ear, I didn't deal with it well."
"Dude, I remember your sloppy-ass messages when she kicked you to the curb." His deep laugh vibrated through the line. "Did she give you any indication of moving on since you two worked your shit out?"
I laughed, shaking my head. "No, Dr. Phil." Which had been my problem. Elle promised not to shut me out, but the what-if lurked, cluttering up my head more days than not. "What do you care?"
"Working through your issues is easier than dealing with mine." Paul dove back in before I could take a go at his problems. "Talk to Elle, man. You've got a good woman, and don't be a pussy about it either."
I groaned, raking a hand down my scruffy face. Easier said than done. "Any other advice?"
"Don't be a dick, dick." He laughed, and I joined him.
"Thanks, man." Hair fell into my eyes when I shook my head, and I pushed it away. "When you getting out?"
Paul enlisted in the Marines to run from the only woman he'd ever admitted to loving: Alyssa, Elle's best friend and pain in the ass I'd nicknamed Amazon.
He never brought up why he walked away from her, and I never pushed. Paul and Alyssa's history was their business. On occasion, he'd ask about her until I mentioned Bret, her current fling and another buddy of mine. He hadn't mentioned her name since.
"Soon as the year's up."
I whistled. "Good, good." I shifted the car into drive. "Coming home?"
"Don't know. So, how's ball? You and the old man still getting along okay?"
Nice subject change. Paul understood how strained home used to get with Dad back in the day. Growing up, the old man had issues with Elle and her family, and as a result, didn't approve of me wanting Elle in my life.
Apparently, miracles happen because Dad dropped the hostility with Elle and her mom. Not long after our truce, Elle's sister, Heather, overdosed. All hell broke loose, which is when Elle shut me out of her life. Worst pain imaginable.
Had I not lied to Elle, repeatedly, kept Heather's whereabouts a secret while she sobered up in rehab, Elle probably would have stayed. Upon Heather's request, I didn't tell Elle. When Heather got out, life was great, until it wasn't.
The devastation Elle suffered killed me, but she wouldn't let me help her or hold her during the pain. I probably would've died had Dad not been around to intervene, seeing as I dealt with losing Elle by drowning in hard liquor.
Elle.
Too lost in the past, I hadn't caught whatever Paul spouted until he said, "Didn't hear a word I said, did you?"
I shook my head, grinning. "Guess not, but uh, gotta get back."
"Yeah, aight. I expect a full report next time."
"Got it, man."
"Talk soon, bro."
"See ya."
I tossed the phone in the passenger seat, ready to head back to Elle, my peace, my everything.
Her car sat in the same place when I hauled ass out. It felt like a fist jammed into my gut. She didn't leave.
She didn't leave.
Inside the house, the silence suffocated the mixture of pride and anger, mostly toward myself, and pushed me down the hall. Tension rolled across my shoulders with each step closer to the room, but I forged on. Loving Elle was easy, but trusting each other was a game we'd forgotten how to play.
The hinges creaked when the door opened. Elle snapped her head up. Her red nose and puffy eyes shredded the center part of my chest. Though my heart begged me to inch forward and quiet her cries, my feet were cemented to the floor.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Spud."
Elle
My breath caught the moment Tristan entered the bedroom, anguish written all over his handsome face. How long would he continue to torture me? Us? Those final footsteps leading to the doorway were filled with anxiety, but seeing him, the pain, crushed me. Would today be the last straw? Would he decide to give up on us? On me? No.
The sheets slipped to the floor when I stood. I faced him full on, reminding him I wasn't going anywhere. Showing him we were worth the fight.
"I'm tired of this. The distance you keep adding between us."
Tristan's mouth opened, and I held up my hand. We were going to jump over this big-ass hill for good.
"Last summer, the day you found me at Mom's house, I vowed to love you, unconditionally. I never wanted you to hurt or doubt our relationship." Tristan still believed I'd change my mind about us, the uncertainty I created–but never again. "I'm sorry I pushed you away." I stepped in his direction, hoping he'd meet me in the middle. He didn't. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
Stoic, Tristan remained still, though some of the anger had gone. His tight jaw and his tense shoulders relaxed. I moved a few more steps forward.
"I'm sorry for being a bitch after Heather died. For closing you out when you were hurting, too. I shouldn't have blamed you."
Emotion burned through me, but I continued. "If I could take back anything, it'd be shutting you out and not loving you every single day through our pain." God, I wanted him to let me in. Tristan owned every part of me, and I needed him to understand I chose him–in the end, there'd only been him.
Tristan looked up, sorrow buried in the depths of his warm gaze, haunting my soul. "I'm sorry too, Spud. I–" He pinched the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes tight.
"Please, don't do this. I'm not leaving. I promise," I pleaded, my voice cracking from heartache.
Relief overtook the pain from moments ago when he focused on me again. "I'm want to be understanding, but sometimes I–" Tristan sighed. "I'm not trying to hurt you, not intentionally."
I nodded for him to continue while fighting to control the tidal wave of tears building up.
"Remember when I told you I couldn't live without you, and I wouldn't allow you to walk away from us?"
Another nod.
Tristan went on to say, "I also said you don't get to throw us away because you're scared."
As much as I fought, tears slipped out anyway. I whispered, "I remember, and I'm right here."
Tristan balled his fists until his knuckles blanched. "Thing is, you did push me away and rational or not, I wanted you to suffer the way I had."
The ache in my chest twisted and a sob escaped, but Tristan didn't close the distance.
He continued, "Today I glimpsed a sense of what could be. But letting go and forgiving you scares the hell out of me." Two steps divided us, though they felt more like an ocean. "Some days all I think about is when you'll pack up your shit and go."
His confession cut deep, but it was a turning point for us. Tristan frowned, pausing a moment before he swallowed the gap. His warm, calloused hands cupped my face. Wetness streamed under my eyes, and he brushed it away with the pads of his thumbs.
"What do you want?" Rawness burned through my injured confidence as I waited for his answer. Did he still want me?
"You," he said, "I want you." Tristan lowered his lips to mine, kissing me tenderly.
Our truce forged, we broke apart, and I rested my head on Tristan's shoulder, basking in the sound of his heart beating. Until he spoke.
"About the guy at the paper."
I held my breath, waiting for Tristan to finish his thoughts.
"I don't like him. Something about the guy gets under my skin."
"Is it the subtle accent?" I peeked up, smiling to ease what could lead to another argument. Since changing my major to journalism, I'd spent endless hours at the student paper. During the summer term, Rixon, the sports editor I'd covered for last year, came back to claim his title. Rixon had a way with words, and I wanted to learn as much as possible before graduation. Tristan didn't like the time we'd spent working together.
Already drained, I didn't want to argue anymore, so I listened instead of defending–once more–why Tristan thought so much of my time was exhausted with Rixon.
Tristan ran his thumb across my lips. "He's after more than you think, Spud."
Instinct told me to defend against his accusation, but I bit my tongue instead. Building Trista
n's trust mattered more. How the hell could I ease his worries? "I can handle myself."
Tristan's brows pinched together. He dropped his hands to my shoulders. "I understand, but if he tries anything." He bent to eye level. "Anything. It won't be pretty." Tristan straightened. My gallant protector, also a complete Neanderthal, but I wouldn't have him any other way.
"I'll be okay. Promise. Besides,"–I stepped on my tiptoes and circled my arms around his neck–"all I do is talk about my sexy boyfriend."
The left side of his mouth lifted in a sinful grin. "Mention how badass I am?"
I brushed a swift kiss on his lips. "Mmhmm. And how great you are in bed."
He backed up a hair. "Spud, you surprise me."
I shrugged, feigning indifference, though heat burned my cheeks. "Guess your lewd behavior is rubbing off on me."
Tristan worked his hand under my shirt, his thumb stroking the small of my back. "I've got something I'd like to rub on you." His voice dripped with sex, and wetness pooled between my legs. "And inside you," he finished, then seized my mouth with his.
∞ ∞ ∞
"Spud, your mom's on the phone."
"Be there in a sec," I hollered then swallowed the last bite of ice cream before rounding the corner to the living room. Tristan paused the game, then threw his head back and laughed at whatever Mom had said on the other end. I leaned against the doorway and listened.
"A little nervous about the next step." Tristan glanced up, catching me eavesdropping. His full lips kicked up in a small smile. "She's an amazing woman," he finished, holding my gaze. "Yes, ma'am. She'll be up your way this weekend." Tristan winked, and apprehension trickled in. What the hell were they discussing?
"Here she is." Tristan passed the phone over, his expression smug with a hint of danger in it. His damn looks… shit. I mean they had the ability to trip up my feet on the short walk to the couch.
Interception (Distraction #3) Page 1