Chapter 19 Burning Love #3
“The first time I was at his house—your house—I was seven, and he told me you were there. I was scared because of all the things he told me she used to say. You came into the kitchen when Connor and I were playing Operation, so things were already very tense, but you just nodded at him, didn’t even look at me, then you got a drink out of the fridge and disappeared again.
Not scary at all, it turned out. Connor even said so.
He said, ‘I’m pretty sure my mom is lying about him. ’”
“Comforting,” I mumble, shifting awkwardly where I sit.
“Hey—fast forward. Do you really remember that day Connor and I were in the pool?”
“A little.” I don’t remember the day in the kitchen he mentioned, but I was eighteen and heading out to West’s when I ran into them in the pool on my way out the back gate.
Connor was twelve then, and I was making it a point to watch out for him, even if I could only see him a few days a week.
I watched for changes. For signs of distress. I never saw any.
Tristan says, “You didn’t say anything, but you knelt down and smiled, started splashing us, and we all laughed. Connor told me that day he’d talked to you a few times, and that his mom was full of shit. Because you were always so nice whenever he saw you. He liked you.”
I face him. I cushion what I’m about to say with a smile. “You know, you should warn me before you start dissecting me. So I can give you my informed consent.”
“Sorry.” He blinks three times fast. “If I’m crossing a line just tell me.”
“You crossed it three minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“You were talking really soft like you were trying to hypnotize me. I kinda wanted to see if it would work.”
“Is it too weird? That I knew your family?” he asks.
“It’s uncomfortable.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”
“Helen told me I was getting too complacent. She’d say this was good for me.”
“It’s true. I don’t tolerate complacency. Especially not from you.”
I smile, running my hand up the outside of his leg. “I hadn’t noticed. We’re together though, right? You’re not having second thoughts about me?”
He grins. “Never.”
“Okay, I know that’s a lie, but I’m telling the truth when I say I want this to be real.”
“Archer,” he sighs, his eyes shining.
“I don’t mean to overwhelm you,” I say quickly, wishing I had more experience with feelings like this. There has to be a better way to beg for someone’s guaranteed time.
“Are you worried I’m gonna disappear again?” he asks.
I nod, staring back at him intently. That’s exactly what I’m worried about.
Whispering as he moves in closer, he says, “Hang onto me then, and don’t let go.”
Tristan’s getting dressed to leave, pulling up his running shorts.
“What’s got your face all scrunched up?” I ask.
“It’s not.” He picks his shirt up off the floor and shakes it out.
“All right. Have it your way.” I close my eyes and make a show of arranging myself to sleep.
“I want to tell you something,” he finally says.
“You’re kidding.”
“My face wasn’t scrunched up.”
The set of his mouth tightens as he sits down on the edge of the bed next to me. “What’s up?” I ask.
“I’m worried about Connor.”
There are a lot of uncomfortable physical sensations to feel. Sleep deprivation, broken kneecaps—but fear? Fear is physical, too. “Why?” I ask, iced barbed wire wrapping around my heart.
That’s what fear feels like. It’s cold. It’s sharp, and it centers itself in the chest.
“Well, there’s a reason I haven’t gotten to see you in five days, and it has nothing to do with how big of a disaster you are.”
I rub his back. He gives me a weak smile. “You can talk to me,” I say.
His smile as he gazes back at me shrinks, but at the same time, it’s grateful. “He’s been different. Since the anniversary of the accident.”
“That was over a month ago.”
“I know. That’s why I'm worried about him.” Tristan’s eyes get blurry, and he blows out a shaky breath. “I think he’s really depressed. Like worse than before.”
The fear snakes its way into my stomach, constricting my insides. “Does he see anybody about it?”
“He never has. He says I’m all the therapy he needs.”
I frown at that. It doesn’t quite fit. If Connor’s supposed to be the exoskeleton, then that makes Tristan the softer one, right? “How are you doing with all of it?” I ask.
“I’m…” He squirms and shrugs. “Hanging in there? But honestly it’s a lot like he was after the accident. Just in that really dark place, you know?”
“Where does he think you are right now?” I ask.
“I don’t know. He was in his room when I left. I assumed he was asleep.”
“Is that why you got here so late? You waited for him to go to sleep? Tristan, you need to tell him about us.”
He gives his head a firm shake and flashes a warning look at me. “I’m not ready for that.”
“Do you want me to do it, then?”
“No. And I’m very fucking serious.”
A combination of things is driving me crazy. First, he’s being vague. Second, the way our relationship apparently revolves around Connor’s sleeping schedule, and third, that he’s refusing to fix it. “Something has to change.”
“Archer, you’re fine. Whether or not you’re going to see me on a Tuesday is a better problem to have than whatever he’s going through.”
“Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”
For that, I get an actual glare. “No. I get to be the judge of it. I’m the only one who knows you both.”
He’s not wrong. I have nothing to add except, “Is there anything I can do to help? I’m here if either of you need anything.”
The expression on his face looks as confused as it would if I suddenly started speaking Farsi. “What do you mean—like—you would talk to him?”
“Yeah, if you think it would help. You don’t have to look so shocked.”
“I am shocked. What’s changed?”
“Nothing.” I’m having trouble meeting his eyes. Something about the subject matter has me plummeting down a familiar well of shame.
“You could do it, you know? If you can get past all his sound and fury.”
I do want to do this for him. For both of them, but just the thought is intimidating. “Any tips on that? I’ve never done very well with sound and fury.”
“He’s your brother,” Tristan says, like “the ocean is deep.”
“I’m not like him.”
He pushes my hair away from my face, staring at me with a depth of understanding that’s almost impossible to comprehend, and he says, “Of course you are.”