Chapter 31 #2
“I think we have a different view on what more is,” he replied slowly, almost as if he was choosing his words carefully.
“The other day, when we were at the ice rink, and that kid sneered at us, you dropped my hand. And then on the wheel. You wanted to kiss me, and fuck…I wanted you to. But you didn’t.
And that’s okay, Ben. It’s okay if you’re not ready to be in the open about your sexuality.
But that’s not me. I can’t and won’t hide who I am.
I did it once before, and it took so much from me.
And now, every time I lie to my parents about who I spend the night with, and when I told the twins that you were just my friend…
I lose a little bit of myself. I can’t do it anymore.
I can’t lose who I am for the sake of someone else. ”
My jaw clenched as a stray tear slid from my eye.
Still, Tristan didn’t move to look at me, and I was grateful.
I heard the pain in his voice; if I saw it on his face, it would have broken me.
Words fell silent on my tongue. There was nothing I could say to change the situation.
I didn’t want to lose Tristan, but I didn’t want him to lose who he was.
“Can you give me more time?” I finally asked, knowing that I was being selfish.
I was asking him to lose more of himself, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I needed to figure out why I was so damn afraid to be open about who I was.
He stilled his movements on my stomach, and I waited with bated breath for his answer. When what felt like an eternity ticked by, he replied, his voice so soft, I almost missed it. “I don’t know how much more time I have to give.”
A myriad of emotions streaked through me, making it impossible to swallow past the thick lump cemented in my throat.
Instead of trying to form any form of response, I kissed the top of his head, allowing another tear to fall.
Tristan nuzzled against my stomach, and a few minutes later, his breathing deepened, telling me he’d fallen asleep.
I didn’t move, staring up at the ceiling as I held tightly onto him. Maybe I needed to talk to someone. Or maybe I needed to be better at ignoring the ghosts of my past. Whatever it was going to take, I was determined to do it so long as it meant I got to keep Tristan.
The door closing woke me. I blinked several times, trying to remember where I was. I had fallen into a deep sleep with Tristan on my chest that it took several seconds for the scowling woman standing in the doorway to the living room to come into focus.
I’d never met Emma Crutchens before, but Rob had a picture of her on his desk, and along with the photos that covered the wall in the hallway of the family home, there was no mistaking who was staring at me with hatred written all over her face.
She moved her head to the side, indicating for me to follow. Careful not to wake Tristan, I slipped off the couch, dread forming in my stomach. She crossed to the kitchen, and when I stepped inside, she closed the door behind me.
“Well. I had a feeling Tristan was seeing someone, but I didn’t expect for one minute it would be you.
” Emma glowered at me, her features twisting into disdain.
“It wasn’t enough for you to wear my husband down to the bone with your constant demands and ridiculous working hours, but you had to break Tristan too. ”
My brows furrowed. “I didn’t know he suffered with fibromyalgia-”
“It doesn’t matter if you knew or not,” she hissed. “Perhaps if you’d treated my son with human decency, then he wouldn’t be on the verge of a flare-up. I just hope he can manage it before it gets any worse.”
My gaze dropped to the floor in shame. She was right. I hadn’t given a damn about Tristan’s well-being when I demanded he work his ass off to fix damage he hadn’t caused. But that wasn’t the case anymore.
“Mrs. Crutchens-”
“No, I don’t want to hear it,” she barked, folding her arms across her chest to glare at me. “I don’t know what you think is going on between you and my son, but it stops now.”
Anger bubbled under my skin. She may have been Tristan’s mom, but she didn’t get to dictate his life. “I think that’s for Tristan to decide, wouldn’t you say?”
Her nostrils flared, and she stormed across to where I stood. For a moment, I thought she was going to slap me, and I braced for it. But it never came. Instead, the pint-sized woman stared up at me, her features softening.
“My son means the world to me. From the minute he was born, he has brought this family nothing but joy and happiness, even at times when our lives have been a struggle. Tristan is a good person; he has such a big heart and so much love to give. He deserves nothing but the best, and I will fight tooth and nail to make sure he gets nothing but the best.” She paused to inhale a deep breath.
“Is that you, Mr. McScroodge?” Before I could consider an answer, she added, “I want you to look me in the eye and give me your honest answer. If you say you are, then I will do my best to accept whatever this is between you and my son. But if you aren’t, then I will politely ask you to get the hell out of my house and leave my son alone.
” Her voice cracked, and the dread that had settled in my stomach started seeping into the marrow of my bones as she repeated her question.
“So, tell me. Are you the man my son deserves?”
The answer was obvious.
I wasn’t.