Chapter Eighteen – Tristan
The only times I’m not with Mabel are when she’s sleeping or in the bathroom. Any other time? I’m with her. We eat together. We watch TV together. We spend every waking moment together… until the night her father comes. Mabel doesn’t ask me to steer clear, but I don’t want to push her into sharing anything she’s not ready for with him.
While Mabel and her father share some Chinese food in the dining room, Wolf finds me on the large sectional in the great room, where Mabel and I often are these days, watching TV.
It’s strange. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been forever—and everything has changed. Wolf’s presence nearby doesn’t immediately piss me off; that’s how at peace I feel, and it’s all thanks to Mabel.
Wolf sits on the section of the couch that juts out in an L-shape, his green eyes heavy on me. I don’t look at him right away, but when I do, I can’t help but say, “What?” Okay, so I still sound snippy, but that’s only because I hate the man for keeping me locked here like an animal.
Can’t blame him, but I can still hate him.
“You and Mabel have gotten close,” Wolf remarks. “I’d really love to have a session with you both.”
I want to say that sounds like torture, but it would mean more time spent with Mabel, and that could never be a bad thing, even if that extra time will be with Wolf as a third wheel. Still, I have to ask, “Why?”
“I want to see how you two interact. There hasn’t been any… attempts on either side lately.”
My brows crease. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
Wolf smirks, though it’s a dead-eyed smirk that fails to do anything for me except piss me off. “Of course it’s a good thing. In all honesty, I was prepared to, let’s just say, dig at least one grave. You and Mabel seem to click a lot easier than I anticipated—again, why I would love to have you both in my office.”
“We don’t have a choice, do we?”
The smirk falls off Wolf’s face as he says, “No, you don’t. Glad we can see eye-to-eye.” He stands, straightens his suit, and starts to walk away as he adds, “I’ll see you both tomorrow at ten sharp. Don’t be late.”
Wolf leaves me prickly, as always. Talking to that guy really pisses me off. I need Mabel to finish up with her father so I can hold her, so her presence can push away all negative thoughts in my head. When I’m with her, it’s impossible to be sour, impossible to be filled with self-loathing—my typical mood as of late.
But Mabel really does make me feel better. It’s the strangest thing. I never would’ve dreamed of anything like this. Life doesn’t even feel real anymore; it’s all one big daydream, like I blinked and got lost in an alternate reality where I found someone who accepts me for me.
All of me, too. Not just parts of me. Mabel accepts me, the good and the bad—and let’s be real: there’s a lot more bad than good where I’m concerned.
Seriously, so much bad. So much bad I never thought anyone could see the good. What I’ve done… it’s unforgivable. I killed my parents, my family’s butler, almost an entire family on the Black Hand, and so many more. The blood on my hands runs deep, and none of it can ever truly be washed away.
I can’t say how long it is before Mabel joins me on the couch, but when she does, she plops herself down directly beside me and cuddles into me. I respond by lifting my arm and draping it over her shoulder.
“How was your dad?” I ask.
“Fine. He actually got invited to go out for drinks with some people he works with. I told him he should go.” Mabel heaves a soft sigh against my side. “I want him to have friends. Now that Mom’s gone and I’m here, he doesn’t have anyone.”
Mabel really is too sweet. The opposite of what I thought I wanted. But, then again, look at where I ended up. Obviously what I wanted in the past didn’t work out for multiple reasons. Here, with Mabel, I am simply Tristan, not the Cobra.
I lean my cheek against the top of her head. “Got any hot plans for tomorrow?”
She chuckles softly. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. Why?”
“Wolf wants to have us both in for a session,” I tell her. “Together.”
That makes her pull off of me, and my first instinct is to grab her hand and stop her from getting up—but she doesn’t get up. She just sits straight and stares at me, pensive. “Why?” Her small hand fits snugly inside mine, so soft.
“I think he wants to see us together.” Which is asinine in more ways than one. Wolf knows everything that goes on in this house; he’s got cameras everywhere. I’m sure he’s been watching us together this whole damn time. “Observe us. Ask us questions.”
“Hmm. Wonder why.” She sighs as she returns to the crook of my arm, her body curling into mine.
Mabel doesn’t know the depths of Wolf’s psychopathy, so I don’t tell her that he’s the type of monster who needs to be in control at all times, someone who likes being the puppeteer and probably gets off on it. I settle for saying, “He probably wants to make sure I’m not… too much for you.”
The way she tilts her head up at me and pouts those lips of hers makes certain parts of me ache. “Too much?”
“That I’m not hurting you,” I whisper.
All she does is sigh again and say, “Well, then I guess we have an appointment with Dr. Wolf tomorrow.”
And that’s all we say about it. We spend the rest of the night on the couch together, with her in my arms. Just having her with me, feeling her soft skin against mine… it’s enough to keep me calm, keep me grounded.
I want… fuck. I want to make her mine. I want to take off all of her clothes and worship every square inch on that body, to memorize the way her skin tenses beneath my touch, to hear her sigh out my name like a soft prayer. I want to lose myself in her. I want it more than anything.
But, as much as I’d love to pin her down, I won’t push her. I can’t. When she’s ready, she’ll tell me.
Eventually, Mabel falls asleep, and it’s up to me to take her to her room. I cradle her in my arms and bring her upstairs, tucking her in all without turning on a single light. Even after all this time, the darkness is my home.
Once she’s tucked in, her head resting safely on her pillow, I linger a few moments more, gazing down at her as shadows swallow us both. Her head is slightly tilted to the side, away from me, allowing me to see the smooth, soft curve of her cheek. Mabel sleeps soundly, the epitome of peaceful.
Sleeping in front of someone is one way to let the other person know you trust them completely. Never are you more vulnerable than you are when you’re asleep. You could literally die and not even be aware of it. The world could end around you while you’re stuck in dreamland, and you wouldn’t know a thing.
And here Mabel is, as vulnerable as ever, and the only thing I want to do is stand guard and make sure no one ever hurts her again.
I don’t want to leave her room, but I force myself to go. I close her bedroom door as quietly as I can, and then I lean my back against it and breathe out a full sigh. It’s strange; lately I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror. I’ve been sleeping better, eating better, and am overall in a better mood. I don’t want to destroy the entire world.
It’s weird. It’s definitely not something I’m used to. Being smitten, liking someone else to the point where they’re all I can think about; it’s more than a mere obsession. It’s life-changing.
Before I make myself go to my room to catch some sleep myself, I tug at the sleeve on my left arm and run my fingers over my sister’s name. This particular scar is one I’ve opened over and over again. The scars are thick and risen, much more so than any other on my body.
Standing there, outside her bedroom door, it’s the first time the scar doesn’t feel right. It’s the first time I regret carving Shay’s name into my skin.
I’d like to say by the time I’m in bed, that feeling has passed, but it hasn’t.
Wolf repositioned his chair so he could face both Mabel and me. Our seats are side by side. I don’t have a hold on Mabel, but as we sit there under Wolf’s watchful eyes, I realize it’s probably smart to hold back a little.
I don’t trust the asshole not to have a bag of tricks in his pocket.
Wolf holds his pen like a knife near his head as his green eyes flick between Mabel and me. No one says a word, and the seconds tick by. Mabel shifts in her seat; without looking at her, I can tell she’s a bit anxious, and I bet she’s expecting Wolf to scold us and tell us we can’t have a relationship.
“I bet you’re wondering why I wanted to see you both together,” Wolf starts the session with a knowing glint in his eyes. Mabel nods in agreement, while I simply watch him with a narrowed glare. “I wanted to discuss this.” He points at us with his pen, moving it between us with a flick of his wrist. Wolf glances at Mabel. “Let’s dive in, then. How are you feeling, Mabel?”
Mabel shrugs once. “I feel good.”
“How much have you told Tristan about your brother?”
I watch her as her gaze falls to her lap. Talking about her brother is still not something she’s totally comfortable with, and I can’t blame her.
“He knows everything,” Mabel whispers. “What Jordan did, how many people he killed… that he killed them all for me.” Suddenly she looks up, a determined expression on her face. “And I assume you’re going to ask how much Tristan has told me.”
Wolf gestures with his hand for her to go on.
“He told me who Shay is and what he did for her.” The glance Mabel gives me after that tells me she’s worried about sharing too much with Wolf, but her worry is irrational. Wolf already knows everything.
“You know the truth about Tristan and his past, yet you do not shy away from him, as most others would. Why?” Wolf really wants to dig in; I hate how he’s focusing on Mabel, but I guess she plays a better patient than me.
Mabel bites her bottom lip. “Why would I?”
Wolf gives her a tight-lipped smile before he explains, “His crimes are reminiscent of your brother’s, both in the crimes themselves and the reason behind them. Everything he did, he did for Shay, just as you believe everything Jordan did was for you.”
“The way you say it makes it sound like it’s just an opinion I have,” Mabel shoots back. “It’s not. I know he killed them for me.”
“And how do you know that?” Wolf asks.
I can feel the stress radiating from Mabel beside me, and I want nothing more than to grab her, pull her onto my lap, and hold her while I tell her everything is going to be okay. That she doesn’t have to worry about Jordan or what he did ever again. She’s mine now, and I’d do everything in my power to protect her.
But the past? The past is the one thing that can slip through our defenses, the one thing that refuses to be put down. The past can haunt, can hurt, can kill if you let it.
I never thought I’d be able to move on from mine, but with Mabel, it’s more than possible. However, as I sit there, watching Mabel’s face darken, I can tell she still wrestles with hers. The awful thing is there’s nothing I can do to help her face it; it’s something she must face on her own.
The only thing I can do is be by her side.
“Mabel?” Wolf speaks her name once she doesn’t elaborate. “How do you know Jordan killed those people for you?” Even he appears somewhat taken aback by what Mabel says next.
“We made a list.”