Chapter Twenty-Four – Mabel
By the time the sun shines in through the windows and morning comes, I’m exhausted, but in the best way. Lying in bed with Tristan, cuddling up against him with his arm around me, my body has never felt so light. I finally understand what people mean when they say they’re riding cloud nine.
If this is how it is for other people, I totally get why people make stupid decisions when they’re in love. Used to think it was just an excuse, but no, love really does make you look at the world differently.
I lay there with my cheek against his chest, breathing in his manly, musky scent. Now that the sun is lighting up the room, I can see just how littered his torso is with scars. He’s still very toned, with the shadows of a six-pack on his abdomen, but it isn’t the thickness of his body that draws my attention. It’s the scars.
They really are legion. So, so many. I try to imagine Tristan doing this to himself, taking a knife and carefully cutting into his body over and over again. Besides the scars from the bullet wounds, the rest are definitely from sharp blades. None are longer than two inches, and there is no pattern to the way they decorate his skin.
And then there’s the name on his left forearm. I can’t see it from where I am, but I know it’s there.
I can’t judge him. I really can’t. It’s hard for me to imagine Tristan as the man he used to be; all I know of him is the quiet, serious, contemplative man who tries to be better than what he used to be. Damaged as he is, I like the man he is now.
More than like, really, but I’m not quite ready to say that out loud.
Tristan’s arm tightens around my back the moment I start to trace one of the scars on his side, and I angle my head up and meet his gaze. I got so used to seeing all the scars on his face that the amount of scars on the rest of him don’t surprise me.
“You’re the first person to see my scars,” Tristan whispers. “All of them, I mean. Not just the ones on my face.” You’d have to be deaf not to note the vulnerability in his deep voice.
I can sense what he’s not saying, what he doesn’t dare ask at the risk of sounding weak, so I scooch up to his face and give him a soft kiss on the cheek before I say, “They’re a part of you. They make you who you are today. Besides, I kind of think scars are sexy—” The moment the words are out of my mouth, my cheeks heat up. I’ve never said anything like that out loud before.
But before I can hide at how embarrassed I suddenly feel, Tristan smirks and rolls on top of me, his hand cupping my face to stop me from doing just that. “Sexy, huh?” he asks with a smirk, and then he kisses me so hard my toes curl.
“I’ll take that,” he murmurs against my lips. Tristan trails a line of kisses along my jaw, to the crook of my neck, making me squirm. “And I’ll take this.” His head drops to my chest, where he kisses both of my breasts. Under the sheets, even lower he goes, stopping only when he’s nestled between my thighs, just as he was last night. “And this.”
And then he reminds me just how good he is with his tongue.
Once we shower, Tristan and I head downstairs for breakfast. Little did I realize it’s almost noon already. I guess, uh, Tristan kept me occupied way longer than I originally thought. We’re sitting at the table, side by side, eating cereal, when Dr. Wolf strolls in.
He raises an eyebrow once he notices we’re eating cereal, but neither Tristan nor I say a word. Dr. Wolf rounds the table, stopping when he stands near us. “I trust you two had a good night?”
I nearly choke on my cereal, while Tristan simply shoots him a glare. It takes me a moment to say, “Yeah. A good night. You?”
Dr. Wolf gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Good.” He offers me his phone, which I didn’t see in his hand until now. “Your father is calling. He called earlier, but I told him you were still… asleep.” There’s an edge to the pause between his words, like he knows why I didn’t get out of bed at a reasonable time today, and it makes me blush.
All I can do is give Dr. Wolf an awkward smile and take the phone from him. Dr. Wolf walks away, and I scoop up another bite of cereal before setting the phone against my ear and saying, “Dad?”
“Hey, kiddo! You doing all right? I called earlier, but Dr. Wolf said—”
“Yeah, I slept in today. It was nice.”
I can tell by the silence on the other side that my dad is shocked to hear that. Hey, anything to get my dad’s mind off of me possibly having sex. “That’s good. I figured you’d call once you were ready, but I just can’t take the nerves. How was the interview last night? I tried asking Dr. Wolf, but he said it’s for you to tell me. He didn’t sound too happy, but he never sounds happy, so…”
My dad can keep mumbling on for eternity, so I decide to just give him the news: “I got the job.”
A second passes as the information registers in his brain. “You did? That’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you, honey. That’s great. Why don’t we go out tonight to celebrate?”
“Can Tristan come?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Beside me, Tristan perks up at the mention of his name, and he sets a hand on my leg beneath the table. I suppose it’s something I’ll have to ask Dr. Wolf, too.
My dad is quiet for a few moments, then he says, “If you want Tristan to come, sure, if Dr. Wolf says it’s fine. It’s probably good to bring him along—I need to make sure he understands that he’ll have me to deal with if he hurts you.”
I roll my eyes. Can’t help it. “Dad. Come on.”
“What? I want what’s best for you, and I won’t apologize for not believing someone like Tristan can be that for you. But if you want to bring him tonight, sure, he can join us in the celebration.” My dad hums. “Maybe I should buy a gun.”
“Dad!”
Again, he sounds totally innocent when he says, “What? I never had to worry about boys before. I’m pretty sure the protocol dictates that I should have a gun and leave it resting on the table so he sees it and knows I mean business.”
I don’t even realize it, but I’m smiling. “You’re ridiculous, and you better not.”
He sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t even like guns.” I think, at that point, we both remember the reason our family is so fractured. One gun in particular had a lot to do with it. “I’ll pick you both up at five tonight, okay? We can go wherever you want.”
“Sounds great. Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, honey.” And with that, he ends the call.
I set the phone down on the table before I meet Tristan’s dark eyes. “Well? Think you’ll want to come with me and my dad tonight? If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just thought, I don’t know, it might be nice to spend some time with both of you.”
His reply comes swiftly, “If you want me there, I’ll be there.”
“Do you think Dr. Wolf will say it’s okay?”
Tristan grins as he leans toward me, whispering, “Just let him try to stop me.” He sounds diabolical, like he’d look forward to the challenge, and I don’t doubt he would. The animosity between him and Dr. Wolf is palpable anytime they’re near each other.
I chuckle softly, and then I realize he is totally, completely, one hundred and ten percent serious about getting into a fight with Dr. Wolf—AKA not something either of us need right now. Not after he went out and got us condoms.
Setting a hand atop the one resting on my leg, I say, “Tristan, we should talk about my dad.”
“What about him?”
“He, uh, is going to be on guard, especially about me. He sort of knows we’re together, but he doesn’t know the extent of our, um, togetherness.” Memory of the talk he tried to have with me the last time we spoke on the phone surfaces in my mind, and I shiver.
Tristan’s mouth thins into a line as he deadpans, “I think he’ll have some idea now, since you want me to come with you two tonight.”
“Well, yeah. We just, um, we need to, uh…” I laugh nervously. “I’ve never had to introduce my dad to a boy before. A boyfriend, I mean.”
His grip on my leg tightens and gives me immediate goosebumps. “Is that what I am? Your boyfriend?”
“Uh, yeah… aren’t you?”
“It just sounds so casual,” Tristan says, studying my face hard. “So juvenile. Like we’re in middle school.”
“Then what would you call us?”
“Soulmates.” Tristan says it instantly, and the way he says it makes it really sink in: he means it. His face is only a few inches away from mine, and his nearness and the way he says the word combine to make me into nothing more than a pile of goo.
If anyone else said it, it would sound stupid or even sarcastic, but out of Tristan’s mouth? The word hits differently. It sounds so… so right. So right I can’t refute it.
“Well,” I say, “I don’t think we should call each other that in front of my dad, so let’s just agree to the boyfriend label, okay?” As I say it, Tristan practically pulls me off my chair and moves me to his lap, where his arms circle me and hold onto me tightly.
He buries his nose in my hair and breathes me in. “If that’s what you want. I’ll be anything you want me to be.”
Tristan, so eager to please. Eager to be wanted. I think I understand him now, and I know what he needs to hear. I set a hand on his cheek and pull his face away so I can stare deep into his dark eyes when I say, “I don’t want you to be anything other than you.”
And I mean it. I mean it one hundred and ten percent.
A hum radiates from his chest, and his lips tug into a smile. It’s then that I realize he very rarely smiles at all. In fact, this might be the first. The smile, as soft and as gentle it is, makes my stomach warm as a giddiness takes over.
I make a vow to myself to make him smile more.