Shattered - the Secret Life of Trystan Scott #4 (5 page)

CHAPTER
10

~TYRSTAN~

Ditching Seth is easier said than done. The guy doesn’t want to part ways until he knows where Trystan is going. He wants specifics. Trystan won’t give any. Seth finally caves in and follows some girls out of the diner, which pisses Katie off to no end. She abruptly leaves and says a few choice words to Seth. That breaks up their little party and Trystan is free of them.

It’s dark and chilly out again
, like it might snow, which is bad since Trystan is homeless. He takes his time walking along the streets, weaving his way past the pristine homes as he heads toward Mari’s house. When he arrives, he sees a light in kitchen. A woman stands at the window. She’s tall and slender with Mari’s dark hair.
That must be her mother
. Trystan glances at his watch. It’s past 7:00pm.

He waits and the woman finally shuts off the lights and leaves. When her car travels down the street, Trystan pulls out the cell that Mari gave
him. He keeps walking, not wanting to linger in front of her house. He walks down to the end of the block and turns the corner, planning on coming up to the house from behind, like last time. He texts Mari:

Can I come up?

A few seconds pass and then:

Yes. I’ll b down in a sec

Trystan turns at the corner and heads back in the direction of Mari’s house. He cuts through the backyard directly behind her house and squeezes through the gap in the fences. Soon he’s standing on her back patio. Mari is in the open door, looking down at him. Light spills around her, creating a perfect silhouette. She looks so beautiful. Everything about Mari is so far out of his reach, so why is he reaching? Does it matter if she loves him?

Our lives are so different
.

But they’
re so similar, too. Wealth doesn’t get rid of abusive parents. It just hides the damage better. Trystan feels a flutter in his chest, like he shouldn’t be here—like something bad is going to happen. He remains on the patio and holds Mari’s gaze for too long.

“Are you going to come in?” she says, smiling at him. Tension creases the spot in the center of her forehead like something’s wrong. Trystan can’t leave her alone. Not now. Not when she needs him.
Any second thoughts about being at Mari’s vanish.

Trystan grins at her, wanting to see her smile. He wants that worry line pressed flat, erased like it was never there.
“Do you always invite boys into your room when your parents leave, Mari Jennings? I had you pegged for a good girl. To think, all this time, I was totally wrong.” He teases her with each step he takes, closing the distance between them. When he’s in front of the door, Mari still hasn’t opened it. She stands on the other side of the screen in a cami and a pair of jeans. His eyes drift to the bare skin at her neck and arms, then back to her face. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Flatter
y will get you nowhere, Mr. Scott.” Mari looks at him from under those dark lashes and smiles. Every inch of skin burns for her touch when she gives him that look.

“I’m not so sure about that. L
et me in and let’s find out.” Trystan grins and she breaks his gaze. Looking away, Mari tucks a curl behind her ear and opens the door. Trystan brushes past her just as Mari turns to the side. It aligns their chests so that they barely touch as he passes. The sensation shoots through him in a crippling wave that takes his breath away. Trystan sucks in air softly, trying to hide how much she rattles him.

Mari turns toward him. Those big dark eyes are filled with remorse. He can see it. He can read it on her face, in her stance, and the way she holds her fingers and twists each one.
Trystan wants to ask what happened, but he doesn’t want to invade her privacy. It’s weird. There’s a spot where he wants to be, and it is invasive. That spot is smack in the center of all her most intimate thoughts and feelings—the ones that no one else knows. Trystan doesn’t speak. Instead, he steps toward her and pulls Mari to his chest. His hands find her hair and he just holds her gently. Mari’s hands lift and slip under Trystan’s jacket. She buries her face in his shoulder and stares blankly.

Mari
looks up at him with that expression on her face, and Trystan feels like he’s going to shatter into too many pieces. He kisses her forehead and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

Mari’s eyes fall to the floor. She doesn’t let go of him. “My mom decided to humiliate me instead of paying a settlement to Brie’s dad. It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Trystan splays his fingers and runs them through her hair, forcing Mari to look up at him. A million emotions flash across her eyes. He doesn’t press her. “Then, we won’t.”

Mari smiles softly. She steps away from him and walks away. Trystan remains frozen by the door, his eyes sweeping over her back and drinking in her curves. Mari glances back at him and extends her hand. “Come on. I have something in my room for you.”

Trystan smirks and takes her hand, not bothering to contain his excitement. “That is quite a line, kiss ninja.”

Mari laughs and bumps him with her shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that! You’re so stupid, Scott. I swear—”

“Nah, you like me like this. Admit it.” They walk up the staircase to her room side by side. “You wouldn’t want me if I were all polite and proper. For instance, telling you that I intend to kiss every inch of your bare skin later is something that I would say. Telling you that you’re pretty isn’t something that would ever fall out of my mouth. Mainly because it’s such a ridiculous understatement that—”

Mari releases his hand and turns suddenly, pushing him into the wall. She leans into him and presses her body against his.
Mari’s pink lips linger so close, but she doesn’t close the distance between them. The sudden action makes his heart lurch. Her hand presses into his chest and remains there with her fingers splayed. Her breath is warm and sweet. Trystan wants to taste her so badly, but Mari doesn’t kiss him. Her eyes only sweep over his face, and then land on his lips.

When she speaks, he thinks he might
die and tumble down the stairs. “I admit it. I like you this way. I expect you to say the unexpected, to do things to knock me off balance and make me drop my guard. I know you do it on purpose, but for the longest time I didn’t know why. Now I do, and I think things are going to get very interesting between us. Don’t you think?” She smiles the sexiest smile he’s ever seen and traces the tips of her finger along his jaw, barely touching his skin.

Breathless
, Trystan says, “You know me so well.” He tries hard to hide it, but he can’t. His body hums when she touches him. Those perfectly pink lips are so close. When Mari spoke, they touched his mouth with a light brush. The sensation is still shooting through him. It makes him want more. “So, are you planning on having your way with me on the stairs?”

Mari’s face flames re
d. She laughs. “You’re such an ass.” Mari releases him and walks up a step.

Trystan repeats her swift movement and pins her to the wall. His hips press into hers and she gasps. There’s no question about what she does to him. His eyes m
eet hers. His heart pounds harder. He leans in and brushes his lips across hers so lightly. It’s a ghost of a kiss, as subtle as a whisper. He pulls back and Mari gasps and grabs her heart. The smirk on Trystan’s face says he’s playing, toying with her, but he’s not. He’d kiss her like that all night, if he could.

Mari’s knees
are shaky after that. She tries to push off the wall and stand, but one leg doesn’t cooperate and she falls into him. Trystan holds her arm and grins. “Took your breath away, did I?”

“You’re evil
,” she says, smiling, still breathless. “We seriously need to get you a long black cloak and a helmet.”

“We could, but I think that’d just turn you on.”
Trystan laughs as they walk up the stairs together and reach the upper landing. He follows Mari into her room. On her bed are some towels and a pair of jeans and a shirt, folded and stacked into a neat pile.

The smile fades from
Trystan’s lips. “What’s this?”

Mari walks over to the pile and thrusts it at Trystan
before she turns to the little bathroom in her room. “I thought you’d want to shower and change.” She’s opening the bathroom door and flicks on the lights. “I can reapply the make up around your neck in the morning. I’m guessing the bruise is an awesome shade of green now. Mine is.” She lifts the hem of her shirt. The bruise on her belly is purple with green tinges around the edges. She lifts her gaze and looks at him, still holding onto her shirt.

Trystan’s mouth has gone dry. He steps toward her and sets the clothes and towels down on the counter before slipping his hand around her middle. “I’m so sorry for this. So sorry.” His voice is soft, barely
audible. Something creeps up his throat and chokes him.

Trystan’s
fingers trace the bruise slowly, gently. Mari takes a slow breath, but exhales jaggedly. When he looks up, he sees her eyes and realizes what his touch did. While he was mourning his previous actions, she was frozen by his touch. Mari closes her eyes and blinks slowly, like she’s trying to snap out of it. But she can’t. Not as long as he’s touching her like this.

Trystan withdraws his touch and runs his hand through his hair. Mari’s chest swells as she breathes in. It draws attention to her breasts
. It makes him wonder what it would feel like to hold them in his hands. Trystan tears his gaze away. Although Mari said she changed her mind that one time, she hasn’t mentioned sex again. Trystan already decided that he won’t pressure her. He won’t sleep with her no matter what happens tonight.

Trystan
gathers his wits and picks up the clothes and towels. “Thank you for this. I won’t be long.” Trystan slips past her into the bathroom and closes the door. For a moment, all he does it stare at the knob. He wants her so badly. He can’t stand it. Every thought that fills his head is more forbidden than the last. The way Mari pressed him into the wall before set him on fire. Trystan knows he needs to calm down and put some distance between them or they’ll end up tangled in her sheets faster than he can blink.

Trystan turns on the shower, making it as cold as he can tolerate.

CHAPTER 11

~MARI~

My heart is racing too hard. I didn’t think that I could feel more attracted to Trystan than I already did, but when he touched me like that—oh my God. It was like every inch of my body was burning. I couldn’t stop staring at his hands, willing them to touch me. I still haven’t moved. I’m leaning against the wall, and finally hear the shower turn on. I wonder what Trystan looks like in there with the water running over his body. I think about how much I’d like to run my hands over him. I don’t even realize that’s what I’m thinking. I just feel the palm of my hand grow hotter and more sensitive. I think about his bare skin and the water. I blink hard, trying to free the thoughts from my mind.

Scolding myself, I push off the wall. What’s the matter with me? When did I become this hornball who only thinks about sex? I pad across the room and grab a pair of sweats from my dresser. I strip quickly with my back to the bathroom door in case Trystan walks out. The water is still running, but I’m too nervous to think.

I’m mad at myself for acting like this, for melting so fast. He barely touched me and I’m falling to pieces. I tug my sweatshirt over my head and pull on a pair of fuzzy socks. This is the least sexy outfit I own. The sweatshirt is way too big. It swims on me. I yank my hair into a ponytail and jump up on the bed and flick on the TV. I try to stop thinking about him, but I can’t. I watch a show without really seeing it.

When the water turns off, my heart beats faster. I wi
sh I were a sane person. I wish for a lot of things that I can’t have. I decide that I’m not doing anything with him tonight. I want more time. Plus, the bruises on my stomach and the way it aches, I just would rather he saw me the way I usually am. I realize what I’m thinking and feel the heat burn across my cheeks.

Trystan pulls open the bathroom door. He’s bare
-chested, wearing the new jeans around his hips, with no shoes. His hair is so dark and still dripping. There’s a towel in his hand. Trystan wraps it around his shoulders. He notices my blush and says, “I love it when you do that.” He smiles at me, winks, and then runs the towel over his head.

“I hate it when I do that, which seems to be all the time. It’s not becoming at all.” I realize I sound like my mother
and flinch.

But Trystan doesn’t care. He steps toward me with that sexy smile he always wears. “It’s sexy as hell.” He tugs at the towel and adds, “I can’t say the same for this, and unless I wear a towel all night, you’re going to see
bruises. The thing is…” he looks down for a second. When his blue eyes lift, he meets my gaze. “I don’t want you to fuss about it all night. The past is the past. I can’t fix it. I would, if I could.” Trystan’s breathing hard, his chest is rising and falling too quickly. It pains me to see him like this.

“You can leave the towel on, if you want. Or…” I smile. I have an idea. I jump off my bed and cross the room. My dresser drawer has exactly what I need. Without thinking twice about it, I grab a pair of scissors and slice through the bottom of my sweatshirt. Trystan looks at me like I’m crazy. He flinches, his hands lifting until he realizes what I’m doing. I cut off the front bottom half of the shirt. It reveals my rainbow bruises
as if they were framed. The scrap of fabric falls to the floor. I put the sheers down and turn back to him. “Better?”

Trystan
grins. It makes those beautiful eyes sparkle like the sea in the afternoon sun. “Is there any other circumstance where you’d cut your clothes off like that? No? Are you sure.” He looks at the floor and then back up at my face. He finally answers, “Yes, it’s better.”

I nod toward his towel. “Good, then drop it.”

Trystan glances at me from the corner of his eye. He pulls the towel away. The angry marks around his neck look worse than last night. I try not to react. I lift my eyes to his. I step across the room and slip my arms around his waist. Trystan’s eyes lock on mine, but there’s something there, like he has to protect himself from me.

My fingers trace the warm, smooth skin at his waist. I say softly, “We’re the same
. You know that, right?”

Trystan’s gaze remains locked with mine. He inhales sharply as my fingers move around to his back. There’s a
small space between us, both physical and mental. “Mari, don’t...” It’s all he can manage. His jaw is tight, locked shut. The muscles in his neck are corded like he can barely swallow.

I want him to relax, to feel safe for once. My godforsaken parents won’t show up until dawn. There’s no one to hurt him here. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe he thinks that I’ll hurt him. My eyes lower. My gaze traces the curves of the muscles on his chest, but I’m not brave enough to lift my hand. My heart beats harder. I want him to understand. I feel the pull to him, like we’re two sides of the same coin. The fact that I’m shiny and he’s not doesn’t matter. We’re connected. We’re the same.

I don’t look into his eyes again. I know what I want to do. Tugging his arm, I pull him toward my bed. I flick out the lights as I pass them. We’re encased in darkness. Trystan doesn’t move easily. It’s like he’s holding back. I finally say, “I just want to hold you. I want to sleep with your arms around me. No sex.”

Trystan’s voice catches when he speaks, “Mari, I don’t know. I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret—”

“I won’t regret this. I’ll never regret this.” I slip back on my bed, but he won’t sit. His eyes
pierce through me like a sword.

“You said this was something that was reserved for marriage.” He’s still
looking at me. I smile softly. It turns out that all those times I scolded him for taking sex so lightly, he was listening. I almost wish he wasn’t. He runs his hands through his hair and looks at me. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want you to resent me. These aren’t whims with you. It’s part of who you are. I can’t do this to you.”

I’m kneeling on the bed, looking at him. My eyes sweep over his face. He means well.
Trystan wants to protect me. I understand, and I know he won’t change his mind. “You’re too good for me.”

He laughs. It sounds so haunted and bitter that it kills me. “I doubt it. I heard I’m made of snails and puppy dog tails.”
Trystan grins at me and winks, quickly covering the emotions that played across his face seconds ago.

I lay back in my bed and he pulls up my blank
ets and tucks me in. Then, he settles on my floor at the foot of my bed. The clock ticks off the minutes, but I can’t sleep. My eyes are wide open. After what feels like forever, I say, “Trystan?”

“Mmm?”

My throat is tight. “How do you manage everything? I mean, no one has any idea and you never give the slightest indication that anything is wrong.

“
Some days I feel like I’m going to fall apart. You never seem weak like that. How do you do it? How do you brush off the fact that the people who are supposed to love you the most, don’t love you at all?” My lip is quivering. Although I’ve thought it, I never had the guts to say it before. “I know they don’t love me. I know they resent me, but I still can’t accept it. I keep hoping that one day they’ll really see me and love me for who I am, but that day never comes.”

By the time I finish talking, I’m whispering. I don’t want to admit th
e words to anyone, but I do. As I speak, the words crush me. The bitter truth is that I feel guilty that my parents don’t love me. I feel like it’s my fault. For a long time, I thought that if I was better or smarter—I thought that I could earn their love—but it didn’t happen. Nothing changed. I stare at my ceiling without blinking. Thoughts stream from my head like rainwater down a gutter.

Trystan sits up. He’s at the foot of my bed on the floor, looking up at me. His hair dried into that messy look he always wears.
Pulling his knees into his chest, Trystan leans back against the side of my bed. “I think that’s the key—admitting that the day will never come. It’s the hardest part it. Hope just rips your heart apart with shit like this.

“
There is no hope. There is no peace. Accepting it makes it easier to wade through the day to day stuff. But, I’ve done a crappy job at hiding it lately. My old man locked me in my room the other day after tossing all my things. He does stuff like that from time to time. It’s supposed to remind me of my place. He says that over and over again, like it’s a lesson that I need to learn. I know my fucking place.”

Trystan
takes a deep breath and runs both hands over the back of his neck, stretching as he does it. “Tucker figured it out. For the past few weeks he’s been hinting, telling me it’s okay to talk to him, but they don’t get it. Dragging it out for everyone to see will just make it worse.

And I’ve got no right, but it makes me mad. Where was Tucker
ten years ago? Where was he five years ago? It would have made a difference then. It won’t do a goddamn thing now.” Trystan startles and looks over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine. He smiles, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”

I shrug. “It needed to be said.”

“How do you do that?” He stands and sits on the end of my bed.

“Do what?”

“How do you make me feel like this? I can be talking about the most horrible thing that ever happened to me, but with you here, the pain lessens. I feel like I’ll get through it and everything might be all right after all.”

I smile at him. I don’t know what else to do. I’m
lying back on my pillow. I cross my ankles under the blankets and tuck my hands behind my head. “That’s what you do for me. Maybe it’s magic. Maybe you’re my yang.”

“Yang?” He gives me a weird look.

“Yeah, like on a yin yang. We reflect each other, despite everything.” I watch him for a moment. His eyes are on mine. I pat the bed next to me and Trystan finally gives in. He crawls toward me and lays his head on my pillow. I turn on my side to look at him.

Trystan
kisses my lips lightly and sighs. A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Good night, beautiful girl.”