Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Crashing wasn’t exactly putting it lightly, either. There was a literal crash that night. One that almost ended my life, and it was because I’d been so shaken and thrown by the words Chris said to me before I got in my car.
Tristan took a heavy breath next to me. So he was still awake. Maybe we didn’t have to lie here in silence, then.
“You doing alright?” I ask into the darkness.
A shuffle in the bedsheets. “Yeah, just thinking. I can’t turn off.”
“Same,” I said.
“What are you thinking about?”
I could have lied. Said something benign. Kept things surface level between us even though all I wanted to do was dive deep into his waters.
So I didn’t lie. “My last relationship, actually. I was thinking about how my ex was the last guy in here. Not that I’m comparing you two or anything. It was just one of those random thoughts that end up spiraling.”
“I get it. When did you guys break up?”
Now it was my turn to take in a deep breath. I’d talked about this before with my good friends Jackson and Dean. Both of them were in the same Stonewall Elite division I was, and a couple of cases had us working together in the past. We got along extremely well, and a close friendship had formed almost instantly. They reminded me of the guys I’d fought alongside in the Marines. Hearts the size of a moon and two people I knew I could count on, no matter the time or the day.
But speaking about my ex with Tristan felt very different. We weren’t in some dim bar, drinking beers and scouting the crowd for guys to help me get over Chris.
Tristan would be the guy to help me get over Chris. He had everything I was looking for in a perfect package—not to mention he had a perfect package—but with the mistakes I had already made, I needed to make sure that package remained wrapped.
At least for now.
“We broke up about two years ago,” I said. “Dated for eight.”
“Shit, that’s a long time.”
“It was. We were a great match, until things started to change. Chris was having a hard time at work, but instead of using me as a support, he used me as a punching bag. Not literally,” I added as Tristan jerked up. “But we were always fighting. Shouting matches that our neighbors could definitely hear. The final straw was him telling me he had sex with one of my good friends at the time. I was livid. Stormed out of my own house, and I got in my car and drove off.
“Ten minutes later, I was upside down in a ditch, blood pouring from a cut on my forehead.”
“What the fuck?” Tristan sat up this time, the bedsheets rustling. “Holy shit, I didn’t know, Gabe.”
“I blame myself. I should have never gotten behind the wheel that upset, but thankfully, all I got was a scar you can barely see. The scars on my heart are probably worse if I’m being honest.”
“Damn, still… I’m sorry. I get what you mean about heart scars, though. I’ve got a few that run deep. And you can never really fix that part of you. You just have to try and find another part of your heart you can use, you can give out to people.”
I looked over, seeing Tristan’s shape cloaked in the shadow of midnight. The longer I looked, the more details I could make out. The rise and fall of his sexy lips, the strong bridge of his nose, the long and curving lashes that blinked open and closed. “Who broke your heart?”
He took another deep breath. I could see his chest rise and fall, his hands resting just above his heart.
“I’ve never had my heart broken. Not in a romantic sense. My heartbreak comes more from family… my dad. We were really close. Like really fucking close when I was growing up. He was my hero—I wanted to be a lawyer just like he was. Wanted to fix up cars and take my family on vacations and do everything that man did.
“Then I came out to him. It was my junior year of high school. He kicked me out that same day, and he hasn’t spoken to me since. I went to my mom’s house that night and told her everything. She gave me the longest hug and told me that she loved me no matter what, and I lived with her for the rest of my high school years.”
I sat up on the bed, my eyes having adjusted, and now I was able to see Tristan clearly. There was pain reflected in those eyes, clear even in the shadows of my bedroom. “Fuck, Trist. You didn’t deserve that reaction, especially not from your own father. It makes my blood fucking boil. How can you turn on your own blood like that? And a child? How in the fuckin’ world—”