15. Winter
WINTER
“ I swear if he didn’t have a huge dick I would have killed him by now,” Bianca grumbles and stomps over to the door as I stand in the middle of our room.
I’m not sure how to respond to her because we’ve only just met a few hours ago when Tristan and I arrived at the cabin Tristan’s dad rented for this little forced vacation.
In the span of forty-eight hours, we found out that not only is Tristan’s dad getting remarried but also that his fiancee has a son and a foster daughter as well.
I guess they’re choosing to bond over that fact, and Tristan nearly combusted at dinner every time the woman referred to us as siblings.
Bianca is Emily’s foster daughter, and from what I gather, she’s anything but shy.
Josh ignores her, shaking his head in annoyance as he looks at me pointedly.
“It’s your uh…brother.” Before the words are out of his mouth, I’m crossing the room and heading for the door.
I don’t need any other information, and I’m not going to take the time to reiterate that Tristan is not my brother.
Things have been confusing with Tristan since we met.
He’s been my protector since day one, and since the attack that killed his mother, things between us have been even more confusing.
But that’s the thing about Tristan and me…
anything that happens is just between us.
I suppose it’s probably because there’s not another soul on this planet that I think Tristan actually likes, but I like to pretend it’s because I’m special to him.
I’m two steps into the hall when I realize that Josh and Bianca are following me. “He’s freaking out in his sleep, and I didn’t know what to do. I went and woke up your dad, but—” He’s not my dad, but I don’t have the energy for that conversation either.
I stop short and look up at Josh. “But what?” What did the bastard say?
“He told me to let him fight through it, but I was afraid he was going to hurt himself or me. He was throwing shit and—” Josh pulls his key card out of his pocket and holds it up as if to indicate to follow him.
“Yeah, that sounds like him.” I say, and I try to keep the anger in my voice crammed down in my chest because isn’t that what I do?
Tristan is the crash out, the one who doesn’t let anything slide, and I’m the one who smooths things over to keep him out of trouble.
I’m so mad right now, I feel like I could kick in my foster father’s door and beat him to a pulp.
“Thanks,” I blurt out, pushing past Josh when the key card beeps in the slot.
I swing the door open and see him there.
Tristan is shirtless, thrashing around in the twin-sized bed that makes him look even bigger than he already does.
His muscles flex under golden skin as he grips the sheets, his eyes pinching tight like he’s in pain.
I move toward him, but Bianca grabs me by the wrist like she’s known me forever or has the right to intervene.
“What if he hurts you? He’s twice your fucking size,” she exaggerates…
kind of. He’s six-foot-five, and he could absolutely hurt me if he wanted to, but he’d never.
Not even in his sleep. “We could throw some water on him,” she suggests.
I glare at her and rip my arm out of her hold. She looks stunned, and I’m probably being too harsh because I think she really does mean well. But I’m fucking sensitive over the boy in that bed, and I will literally fight anyone right now.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Tristan’s sleep-strained voice is low, deadly, and full of the anguish we both carry every single day.
I know exactly what he’s reliving, because I’m there every time I close my eyes too.
I don’t think twice because I don’t care about anything other than comforting him.
I lean over him, placing my hands on his chest and spreading my fingers, trying to soothe him.
Quicker than I could have imagined, he’s gripping me by the arms with such force, I hear Bianca squeal like she’s the one he’s grabbing.
“Fuck,” Bianca curses when Tristan pulls me into the bed and flips me under his large frame. One of his hands moves to my throat. “Josh, do something!” Bianca’s voice is a few octaves higher than usual.
“What am I supposed to do?” Josh sounds like he’s going to have a breakdown because he thinks he’s about to witness my murder.
Tristan’s hand is so tight around my throat that my airway is cut off. Still, I feel nothing but concern for him. He’s reliving that night, hurting me, and I can’t bear seeing him like this.
“Tristan,” I whisper as loud as I can with the restriction, and then I do the only thing I can think of to get him to wake up.
I slide my hands down his back, letting my nails dig into the bunched muscle.
“You’re hurting me,” I say, and I’m shaking because being pinned under him like this, feeling the raw force of his anger brings me back to the night he was forced to hurt me so that someone else didn’t.
I’ll forever be grateful to him for that because it could have been a much worse fate for me.
I know he carries the guilt of what they made him do to me, but he saved me in more ways than he probably realizes.
I suck in a sharp breath when Tristan loosens his hold on my neck, and I feel his shoulders slump. He’s awake.
“What happened?” He whispers, and I can see those dark green eyes boring into mine. He makes no move to get off of me, and I don’t push to roll out from under him. He’s coming down from something awful, and I have the distinct feeling that he needs me to be right where I am.
“You almost killed her, that’s what happened,” Bianca says, flipping on the light, and Tristan lifts one hand to shield his eyes and uses the other to brace himself above me.
I’m acutely aware that he’s in nothing but black sweatpants, and I can feel the heat of his chest radiating off of him and onto me.
I shouldn’t let my mind wander, or wish that he would lower himself fully and press me into this mattress.
That’s exactly what I want, what I crave from him.
Tristan ignores Bianca and rolls to the side of me.
I can see the way his body sags as he takes long, deep breaths.
I move to get up, thinking maybe he wants some space, but he reaches over and grabs my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
He continues to stare at the ceiling, flexing his fingers against mine as his chest rises and falls.
“Josh came and got us because he couldn’t get you to wake up,” I tell my brother, leaving out the part about Dad telling him to let Tristan fight through a night terror like that will make them go away.
“Don’t fucking do that again,” Tristan snaps and at first I think he’s mad at me, but he pushes up on one elbow so he can look at Josh who is looking from Bianca to me wide eyed, flabbergasted that he’s the one Tristan is mad at. “She doesn’t need to be around me when I’m like that.”
“I’m not sure she should be around you at all. You’re a fucking dick no matter what time of day it is,” Bianca says, huffing and dimming the light, which I’m thankful for. She looks at me, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Tristan would never hurt me,” I say it with such conviction, no hesitation.
“You can leave now,” Tristan says dryly, and I can tell by his tone that he’s not far from losing his cool if one more thing agitates him.
I think he’s kicking Bianca and me out so he can go back to bed, so I start to untangle our fingers and swing my legs over the bed but meet nothing but resistance from Tristan.
I see Josh’s eyes trail up my bare thighs, and I’m suddenly regretting running out of my room in sleep shorts and a tank top.
Tristan must notice it too because he lets go of my hand and jerks his shoulders. I know that if I don’t intervene, he’s fully prepared to snatch Josh up by the neck and rattle his eyes around in his head just for looking at me.
I reach out, wrapping my hand around Tristan’s bare bicep, and say, “Smotri na menya.” Look at me.
Tristan’s big green eyes bore into mine, and I swear my whole body tingles.
The rage that was just directed at Josh has simmered into something that is only meant for me.
We communicate with our eyes, something I know I’ll never be able to do with anyone else.
He lets me know he’s calm by reaching over to pull the blanket up and over my legs.
A win is a win, it’s better than him lunging over to wring Josh’s neck.
“You’re staying in here tonight,” Tristan says to me in English, which means he wants everyone in the room to hear him clearly. He looks at Josh and only tips his head toward Bianca before demanding, “Get the fuck out.”