Chapter 10
Ash
I don’t know how I feel. I let him touch me. I touched him. This is wrong. It’s all so wrong, and yet I wanted more. I wanted to see what he felt like inside me, but I didn’t ask him. I was too afraid of what that might mean to the two of us.
“You ready?” Amy asks as I fix my dress and my hair.
“Are you, is the better question?” She laughs at me and then pulls me into a side hug.
“I love your dad. He’s a wonderful man. And thank you for giving Tristan a chance. I know he’s different,” she says.
“He’s really not that bad.” Now she tenses.
“I didn’t say that, Ash. Tristan has more demons than any of us realize. The things he likes and does, I don’t even want to know all of it.”
“He doesn’t seem that bad.”
“He’s not when he’s under control. It’s when he loses that control,” she admits to me. I nod my head.
“I’ll be careful around him.”
“Good. I don’t want you getting hurt,” she adds. I nod my head, and the music begins to play. We step out of the room and Tristan is there waiting. He hugs his mom and tells her she’s beautiful before offering me his arm. I slide mine through his, and we begin to walk toward the door.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says as we walk.
“It’s for the best.”
“Why is that?”
“I have a boyfriend, and I allowed you to touch me. It’s a sin.”
“I think we’re way past the sinning stage, don’t you?” he asks. I look up at him and shake my head.
“I’ve realized I should have stopped myself and I didn’t. That’s my sin to carry.”
“Stop with this sinning shit, Ash. We were both there. You wanted it,” he tells me.
“And now I don’t.”
“I bet you’re fucking wet for me right now. How are you going to walk down the aisle on my arm with that slickness between your thighs?” Shivers roll over my body, and he can see it. Bumps form on my flesh from his words, and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself down.
“Could you not talk like that right now, please?”
“Later then?”
“Tristan,” I say when the doors open, and it’s our turn to walk down the aisle. Tristan keeps me close to him, a little too close if you ask me, as we make our way down to the front. Once we’re there, we move off to our sides, and that’s where we stand. When the doors open again, it’s his mom walking out.
She looks beautiful in her long gown, but it makes me wonder if my dad treats her the same way as he does me. A sadness forms inside me at the thought of her having to live that way for the rest of her life. The way my mom lived that way until she died.
A single tear falls down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away. Tristan watches his mom as she walks closer to us. Then, when she’s right in front of us, and my dad takes his place, his eyes come back to me. It makes me squirm, knowing he’s watching me the way he is.
The ceremony continues, and they vow to love each other for the rest of their days. I can’t wait for this to be over because I’d like to ask Tristan about his mom. I know a little about her, but not a lot. Like will she put up with my dad’s idea of punishment?
We make it to the reception and that’s when Tristan and I are forced to dance together. Ben would be so upset if he saw us like this because, oddly enough, I find I like being in Tristan’s arms.
We dance all night and he even says sweet things that make me smile and laugh. I wasn’t sure Tristan had this side to him, but I can see it now.
He twirls me around and pulls me back into his arms before leaning down and whispering in my ear.
“I want to make you come all over my tongue.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I want to taste you, Ash.”
“No. I … I can’t do that.”
“Why not? I’ve had my hands on you.”
“That’s different, and I’ve already punished myself for that.”
“What did you do?”
“I poured my soul out to God and begged for forgiveness. I prayed while I was kneeling on the broomstick.”
“You hurt yourself like he does?” he growls low in his throat.
“It’s punishment for my sins, Tristan. I’m sorry, but this is done,” I tell him. I can’t do this. I can’t be what he wants me to be.
“You’ll regret saying those words.”
“No, I won’t. Ben and I are going to get married and raise a family. I need to focus on that and school.”
“So, you think I’m shit like everyone else does?” he asks. Why does he have to say it like that? I don’t think of him that way.
“No, you’re not. But you are my brother now.”
“Fuck that. How many brothers do you know made their sister come with his cum? How many brothers know what his sister feels like?” My cheeks burn like fire when he says it. I remember every single second of it and how it felt, how he felt.
“It’s over now, Tristan. I’m sorry.”
“You know what? Fuck you, Ash. Fuck you, and fuck this family bullshit. I want no part of your little bible-thumping world. When you’re ready to bow to your real God, you find me.” With that he pulls himself away from me and walks off. I follow behind him because this is wrong. He shouldn’t be acting like this.
“Tristan, wait.”
“You want me, Little Nun?” he asks when he turns to face me.
“You know we can’t be like that.”
“Why not? Because your little fairytale of God and Heaven won’t allow it? Well, guess what? It’s all bullshit, Ash. All of it!”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. He laughs darkly and shakes his head.
“No. You’re not, but you will be.” I watch him walk out of the reception, pulling a cigarette out as he goes. I sigh and go back to the party talking with some of the other guests. That is until we hear tires squealing and metal crunching.
In my heart, I know it’s him. In my head, I pray it isn’t.
We rush out the side door to see his car wrapped around a telephone pole.
“Tristan!” His mom yells as we rush toward the scene. People are on their phones calling for help, and all I can feel is panic. What if he didn’t make it? What if this is all my fault? No. I can’t think like that. He’s okay. He has to be.
“Ash!” My dad calls to me, and I turn to look at him as he pulls a bloody Tristan from the car. “Come help!” I’ve had some training in first aid but not trauma training. Not for this.
I rush toward them and start doing the best I can for him when someone else yells.
“Get back! The car is going to explode!” Everyone moves except me. I can’t leave him here. I won’t do that. I lift under his arms and pull him toward safety while his mom watches in shock, and my dad does nothing to help. Not that it surprises me. He doesn’t like Tristan, and his mom is too stunned to move.
“Help me!” I scream at anyone who will listen to me. Someone rushes from the crowd and helps me pull him to safety right before the car goes up in flames. I fall on my butt, his head landing in my lap. I move to shift him off me and lay him on the ground so I can get back to work. I rip the bottom of my dress and press it against his wounds, trying to stop the bleeding until help arrives.
I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling right now. There’s too much happening, too much going on. He’s bleeding a lot, and I don’t have enough hands to keep the bleeding under control. I yell for more help, but my voice is scratchy, and people I don’t recognize move in to help me.
Is this my fault?