Chapter Thirteen
TRISTEN
Amind-piercing shriek nearly blows out my eardrums, echoing in the confined space. I stumble backward into the bathroom door, knocking the towel off its hook and onto my shoulder.
“What are you doing in here?” she screams.
The shadow of her outline grows darker as she approaches the curtain. I swallow nervously and avert my eyes to the ceiling.
“You were crying—”
“That was a rhetorical question, Tristen. Get. Out.”
“I, uh, can’t. It’s pouring outside.” Luckily I had made it inside before the sky ripped open.
The rush of water abruptly cuts off, replaced with slow drips and the hiss of rain beating on the roof.
She pokes her head out, keeping the curtain tucked under her chin so I can only see her oval face.
The fruity scent of her shampoo burns into my memory, forever tying this moment and strawberries together.
Droplets of water cling to her lashes and bead on her flushed skin.
So delicate, so perfect. If only she could see herself through my eyes.
My breath stutters from my lips, the painful desire to trace the path of each droplet almost more than I can bear. But the urge evaporates the instant I notice her murderous stare.
“Do you have to be right outside the shower? I am naked. This flimsy piece of plastic is the only thing separating us.” She shakes the curtain, and my heart somersaults in my chest. “How can I get out with you in the room?”
“Here,” I say and offer the towel. “I’ll, uh, go sit in my bunk out of the way.”
Like a magician, she snatches the towel from my hands and is back behind the curtain before I can blink. Her shadow’s movements are jerky, performing almost like an odd dance as she dries herself off. One leg and then the other.
“Tristen,” she barks.
“Huh? Oh, right. My bunk.” I tear my eyes away from her silhouette and rush over to my bed. I climb up the ladder and dive onto my cat sheets. Unfastening the bunk’s privacy drape from the wall, I yank it just as Reese exits the shower, her torso to thigh wrapped in a fluffy towel.
I freeze again, unable to stop myself from admiring her.
Her blonde hair seems almost brown, plastered to her head, the long tresses dripping on the floor as she walks to the bedroom. On her right shoulder is a mark—no, a picture of what looks to be a microphone. I lean forward, straining to see it clearly. How did I not know Reese has a tattoo?
“I can feel you staring at me.”
“I’m just closing the curtain.” I resume pulling the drape but it catches on the track, the fabric refusing to close fully no matter how frantically I tug.
“Weirdo,” she calls out as she ducks into the bedroom and slides her accordion door shut behind her.
“Maybe I am,” I mumble, shaking my head at myself.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I flop back onto the bed, still reeling from all the emotions. Since when did Reese have such an effect on me? It’s like my brain stopped functioning and all I can do is gape at her like some lovesick preteen.
“Hey,” Reese says from the bedroom doorway, her hands on her hips.
Thankfully she is dressed, but I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter what she does or doesn’t wear. I want her. It’s not a gentle pull either. It’s painful, like meat hooks in my chest, pulling toward her. A kiss-her-or-I-might-die situation.
“Don’t ignore me.” She storms up to my bed and raises onto her tiptoes. “What on earth has gotten into you?”
I tilt my head on my pillow, surprised how her anger illuminates her eyes in a silvery glow.
“You.”
“Me?” Her neck flushes to her cheeks, highlighting her precious freckles. “Are you trying to tell me that your reaction is my fault because I was showering?”
“No. It’s from before. Seeing you outside with blood on your shirt . . . it felt like I’d been sliced open too. Then walking in and hearing your gut-wrenching sobs in the shower? I nearly ripped the shower curtain away to gather you in my arms. Reese, I . . .”
How do I put into words what I don’t understand myself?
Yes, she’s insanely attractive. There’s no denying that.
But she’s more than her appearance. She’s also an intricate puzzle of kindness, loyalty, and courage.
After her granny was diagnosed with coronary artery disease, Reese dropped everything to take care of her.
For months, she carried the responsibility of being a caregiver on her own, never once complaining.
Her weekends are booked solid with volunteering around town and with the local youth program.
Even with Des’s motorhome, she took on the challenge knowing she was going to be in over her head.
Time after time, she gives pieces of herself until she has nothing left but her rough edges and sarcasm. And still, she never asks for anything, trying to juggle all her problems and everyone else’s.
For once, I want to be the person she turns to for help. For her to lean on me when the crushing weight becomes too much for her to bear. To be the shoulder she can cry on when her heart is shattering instead of her hiding in the shower trying to manage it on her own.
She doesn’t need to keep offering herself up to atone for her past mistakes to find peace.
All this time she’s asked others for forgiveness . . . she never asked the one person who could heal her inside—Jesus.
Until she sees that, it won’t matter what I do to help. She’ll always be hurting inside.
But she doesn’t see that. She only sees her mistakes, her addiction.
“What is it?” she whispers.
That’s not an easy question. How do I guide her in one direction without her sprinting defiantly in the other? But I can’t stand idly by and let her berate herself because she thinks she isn’t worth more.
Because she’s worth everything to me.
The way I feel about her is more than just liking or caring for someone. It’s all consuming down to my core. She’s my sweet craving and one that’s impossible to ignore.
I reach down to cup her jaw, gathering my courage. Her skin is dry, but the hint of strawberries swirls in the air around her.
“You are so beautiful, inside and out. Even if you don’t see it, I do.”
Her lips part in surprise.
“I’m having a difficult time keeping my distance. My eyes are always drawn to you. When you used to enter the bar, it was like the sun entering the room, dazzling and bright, leaving everyone else in shadows. I didn’t understand it before, but I do now.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I know you don’t like me that way. I’ve heard it loud and clear. But it doesn’t mean I can turn these feelings off like a light switch. Trust me, this is overwhelming and new to me too. Give me time—”
She steps up on the bottom rung of the ladder, grabs a fistful of my shirt, and drags my mouth to hers.
The tension between us explodes like fireworks, my hands digging into her damp hair as our lips hungrily devour each other.
It’s what I’ve been aching to do since the first kiss on the bus.
But the fact she initiated it? I’m absolutely lost in her, and I never want to be found again.
As quickly as the kiss started, it ends. She pulls back, wide eyed.
“I . . . shouldn’t have done that.”
Her words punch me in the gut, leaving me breathless.
“Don’t say that.”
I reach for her, but she is already across the motorhome like a wild animal, searching for an escape route. Before she can bolt out the door, I’m there, wrapping my arms around her.
“Talk to me.”
Covering her face with her hands, she groans. “This room is too small. There’s nowhere to go.”
“I’m here.”
I curl my arms around her, tucking her in close. Her body trembles against me, an uncontrollable vibration that breaks my heart. She’s been through so much.
“Breathe, Reese.”
Instant relief hits me the moment her arms wrap around me, clutching the fabric of my shirt in desperation. I rock us back and forth, waiting to speak until the wild beats of her heart start to slow.
“It’s okay,” I say, closing my eyes as her muscles relax one by one.
“Why do you always rescue me?” she murmurs into the collar of my shirt.
“Because I don’t think I could handle life without you in it.”
She squeezes me slightly. “That’s a pretty good answer. Is that from one of your audiobooks?”
I pull back so she can see the truth on my face. “No, Reese. It’s like I told you before. I care about you. I thought maybe you didn’t like me, but after that last kiss . . . I think you’re not being honest to either of us.”
“I’m . . . scared, I guess.” She winces at her admission, then buries her face in my shirt. “Our lives are so connected that I’m worried I’ll mess things up like I always do.”
“So you’ll just quit before we even get started?”
“I just don’t want to make another mistake again, especially not with you.”
“Nobody is perfect, Reese. Not me. Not you. Remember that. But that doesn’t mean that if we were together it would be a mistake.
Mistakes can be a good thing sometimes. It’s how we learn and grow as a person.
Yes, you made a lot of them in the past, but look how far you’ve come in eighteen months.
I know it’s not been easy for you. In fact, I can’t even imagine how much courage it took to stop drinking. ”
“My courage to change doesn’t erase all my drunken regrets.”
“So you think you don’t deserve happiness?”
Her fingernails dig into my back. “I’ve done so many stupid things.”
“You’ve done good things too. Do those not count?”
She shrugs, completely relaxed against me.
“They should.” I scoop her hair from her face and tilt her chin up. “And they do.”
I’m almost too scared to ask, but the question bubbles out of me before I can stop it.
“Do you think kissing me was a mistake?”
“Everything I do is a mistake,” she snaps, more at herself than me. The words are sharp enough to wound.