15. Tristan
A fter taking the longest piss of my life, I wash my hands and dry them, listening for sounds of life from Evie’s side. We share a bathroom, but we rarely run into each other here. She can be skittish, so I suspect she avoids it when I’m around. I glance at my phone. It’s almost eleven. I slept way later than usual, but that’s because we were up until four thirty, drinking and smoking. Honestly, I could use a few more hours of sleep, but my thoughts won’t stop.
All I can think about is Evie, how she felt in my arms last night. How good kissing her felt. I hadn’t planned on making a move, but when she kissed me first, I couldn’t think straight. We’d gotten kind of flirty at the bar and I acted on instinct, taking what she was giving because it felt like a natural progression … until I remembered how fucked-up she was. I’d watched her hop from bar to bar all night, looking like a dream in that short, little skirt, downing drinks and taking shots with Opal, and now she was high, too. I couldn’t fuck her when she was like that.
Because that’s where things would’ve gone, guaranteed.
And anyway, Evie said from the very beginning, right before we signed that marriage license, that there would be no messing around. I respected that, enough to push her away and prevent her from doing something she’d undoubtedly regret. But she took it wrong, because she’s Evie and her self-esteem needs work. She doesn’t see what I see, that she’s loyal and smart and so fucking cute, almost kittenish. Kinda like her little ginger tabby. She’s a lot stronger than she used to be, too. She stands up for herself now, and that’s hot in a way I didn’t expect.
But for some reason she still doesn’t think she’s good enough. Come to think of it, she probably only went for it last night because she’d had a healthy dose of liquid courage. Because when she’s sober? She keeps that line drawn.
After looking around the rest of the house, I knock on her door. When I don’t get an answer, I push it open, unsurprised to see her empty bed neatly made. Juniper ignores me, but Poppy meows from the window. “Where’s your mom?” I ask them, grabbing my phone from my pocket.
I shoot Evie a text.
Where are you?
For once, she replies to me in a timely fashion.
Aunt Myrtle’s.
My chest tightens. Frowning, I look around her room. Sure enough, a bunch of the boxes are gone. She must’ve started moving this morning while the rest of us were still asleep.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. This is worse than I expected.
Finn emerges from his room, raising his eyebrows when he finds me in the doorway of Evie’s room. “Trouble in paradise?”
Evie opens the front door, wary—but definitely not surprised— to see me. She’s got a pair of old gardening gloves in one hand, and there’s a smear of dirt across her cheek. “Hey,” she says, zeroing in on the hefty box I’m carrying.
“Hey. Catch you at a bad time?” I ask, looking pointedly at the gloves .
“Not really. I’m just doing a little weed pulling.”
“Gardening’s your therapy, huh,” I surmise, easing past her and setting the box on the floor. It’s full of books. It was beside the front door back at the rental, so I grabbed it on my way out.
“Are there more of those in the back? I can get them.” She moves toward the door, tossing her gloves to the floor. She’s wearing loose cotton short-shorts and a black tank top, thin enough that I can just make out her nipples. Her creamy skin is clear of makeup, showing off a few freckles, and her hair’s up in a bun like it was last night. When she kissed me.
When I kissed her.
“No, just that one.” I straighten up, shutting the door. “Was I supposed to bring the rest?”
“You didn’t have to bring any at all. Unless you’re trying to get rid of me.” She huffs a soft, fake laugh.
“Don’t turn this around,” I say lightly. “You’re the one who’s moving out in stealth mode.”
“Because I have a house of my own now.” She still won’t give me her gaze. It’s annoying. “It’s time I got settled.”
“Okay.” Nodding, I take a step closer. “But you’re running away, too.”
Now she looks at me, her light eyes stormy. “Don’t do that.”
I stare down at her, watching a parade of emotions I don’t fully recognize flash across her face. “Do what?”
She closes her eyes, rubbing her forehead. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I never should have done that. I was?—”
“Fucked-up. We both were.” I tug her hand down, bending so that we’re eye to eye. “That’s why I didn’t let it go any further.”
Biting her lip, Evie pulls her hand away. “Well, thanks. And thanks for the box.” Spinning on her heel, she stalks toward the back of the house. “I’ll be by later to get Poppy and Juniper and the rest of my stuff.”
“Evie, come on,” I press, following her into the kitchen. There are boxes everywhere, and I nearly trip over one. “Why are you trying so hard to get away from me when last night you were all over me?”
Freezing, she aims a murderous glare over her shoulder as her face blooms into a bouquet of angry red splotches. “Fuck off, Tristan,” she says in a wobbly voice. “Just go home.”
“Nah, it’s a simple question.” I follow her to the sunroom, where there’s now a long, wooden farmhouse table littered with herbs and bottles and weird-looking liquids. Hope she isn’t working on a spell to get rid of me. “Maribelle told me something interesting the other day … she said you liked me when we were kids. Is that true?”
Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t confirm or deny. Instead, she keeps going, flinging open the back door and charging out into the garden where bags of soil and gardening tools of every shape and size are strewn across the grass. I grab Evie’s arm as she enters the shade, trying to get her to just stop for a second, but she turns suddenly, sweeping me with her foot. It’s the last thing I expect her to do, and I go down, landing on my ass in the soft grass. But I’m fast, too. Before she can take another step, I’ve hooked her ankle, toppling her right into my arms.
“Tristan!” She gives me an angry shove, smacking her palms against my chest. “Stop it!”
“Not until you tell me the truth.” Grunting, I roll her into a submission, pinning her with my hands and hips. The last time we were in this position, we were in a class full of people. Now it’s just Evie, me, the birds and the bees.
“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth. “I had a crush on you, okay? For a long time. Are you happy now?” In an abrupt burst of movement, she bucks her hips and rolls to the side, trying to slip away, but I pull her onto me, giving her the upper hand. Can’t help it. I really, really like the way she feels on top of me.
Grabbing her hips so she doesn’t go running off again, I give her a little shake. “Do you still?”
“Does it matter?” she asks, trying half-heartedly to peel off my hands.
“Yes.” I slide my hands up, breaching the hem of her tank top. Then, moving slowly up the sides of her torso, I skate my thumbs over the bottom of her ribs. She goes still, and I pause too, waiting for her to stop me. Or to answer me, whatever comes first.
“Yes.” Her hands fall to her sides as the last of the fight leaves her body .
Sitting up, I roll her gently onto her back again. Her eyes are more green than brown today, with undercurrents of blue. She stares up at me for just a second before slinging her arm over her face, hiding. That’s fine; there’s nowhere else for her to go. I trace the fine line tattoos on her forearm, elegant, minimalist renderings of leaves, vines, and stemmed flowers. They’re so Evie.
For the second time today, I pull her arm away from her face. “I didn’t fuck you last night because you were on another planet. Not because I didn’t want you.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she says, her face still turned away. “You were being decent, and I appreciate it.”
“Obviously, I do have to explain myself because you took off this morning.”
“It’s fine, Tristan,” she says primly. “I know I’m not your type.”
“Bold of you to assume that you know my type.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Maribelle was.”
“I was fifteen,” I say with a scoff. “Every girl was my type back then.”
She shakes her head the tiniest bit. “Not me.”
“Not when you were twelve, no. But things are a little different now,” I say, pushing my semi into the cradle of her hips a little to show her what I mean.
Evie sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes finally meeting mine.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I roll to her side, giving her some room, but I don’t go far. Instead, I draw my fingertips up and down her thigh, watching her pupils dilate as goosebumps pebble across her petal-soft skin. “Why’d I have to find out from your skanky sister?”
A soft breath huffs past her parted lips. “Because I didn’t want you to know. You never should’ve found out at all.”
“Did you think I’d turn you down?” I ask quietly, unable to look away from those lips. I trail my fingers up the inside of her thigh, wondering if her other lips are the same shade of pink.
“I knew you would,” she says, breathing shallowly.
“But I told you, when we were going to get the marriage license, that we could …” I trail off, letting her fill in the blanks with her imagination.
“Be friends with benefits.” She grabs my arm as my fingers creep beneath the hem of her shorts, closing her eyes briefly before she focuses on me. “And I’m not into that. ”
I can’t help the suggestive grin that takes over my face. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
She wrinkles her nose, her grip tightening on my arm. “Be serious, Tristan.”
I bite back a smile. I prefer this Evie to the self-pitying one for sure. “You don’t want to catch feelings. But it’s too late because it sounds like you’ve had them for a while.” I hover over her for a second before brushing my lips over hers. Gazing into her eyes, I see everything she’s tried to hide from me bloom in full color. Dipping down, I give her another whisper of a kiss, catching my teeth on her bottom lip as I pull away.
She draws a shaky breath when I reach her panties. “Tristan,” she whispers, her throat working as she swallows.
I run my knuckles over the warm center of her, touching her softly on the outside as we look at each other. When her breathing stutters and her eyes start to go glassy, I slip beneath the fabric and kiss her again, slowly circling my tongue around the inside of her mouth as my fingers circle the entrance to her pussy.
With a small moan, she gives in, sliding her fingers into my hair.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I keep my touch surface level, rubbing up and down her soft, wet slit with my fingers. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m gonna make you feel so good you’re going to wish you’d told the truth a lot sooner.”
Her eyelids flutter shut, her mouth dropping into a perfect O. Desire burns through me like a hot, consuming fire and I lick into her mouth again, sucking her tongue and swallowing all the little sounds she’s making. When my thumb sweeps her clit, her hips jerk, moving to meet my hand. Sensing that she’s close, I touch her a little harder, and she kisses me hungrily, grabbing at my hair as she comes. Her roughness, her responsiveness—shit, I’m so hard it hurts. I’m not even inside her, but she’s pulling me in like a riptide.
“You still want to keep this platonic?” I whisper, kissing her ear. “Because I don’t.”
“I don’t know what I want,” she says after a moment, her voice shaky. She releases me from her death-grip, her arms lax around me. “And I don’t know what you want from me. From this.”
No more teasing, then. Dropping a kiss onto her throat, I pull my hand out of her shorts and bring her up so she’s sitting across from me. Post-orgasm Evie is a stunner, with her rosy cheeks and swollen lips.
“I want you to be honest with me, for one thing,” I say. “Even when it’s hard. I promise I’ll do the same.”
She nods haltingly, her eyes watchful like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I also want to see if you blush all over.”
She bites down on her lip, trying not to smile.
“I wanna know if you used to have dirty dreams about me, and if you did, I wanna act them out,” I add, smirking.
“God,” she says with a pained laugh, covering her face.
I release her hair from its messy, grass-studded bun, watching it fall around her shoulders. “We’re already married, Evie,” I say, leaning in to kiss her again. “We might as well have fun.”
We spend the next couple of hours moving the remainder of Evie’s belongings out of the rental and into her new home. She keeps sneaking peeks at me, trying to hide her pink-cheeked smiles, and I keep catching her because I’m always looking at her, too. Who’d have thought that sweet, nerdy Evie Doyle would grow up into the sexy badass she is now? I can’t wait to get her alone again. I’ve been sporting a semi since our playtime in the garden.
I want to feel her from the inside out, lose myself in her. But I want her to lose herself in me, too. I want her honesty, her reactions. No more bullshit. I want to see what she’s like when she’s not holding back.
Evie thinks that she’s moving out, but in reality, we’re moving out. I don’t want her by herself all the way out here where she’ll be isolated and vulnerable. Myrtle’s estate isn’t quite the boondocks, but it’s more remote than I’d like so I’ll be staying with Evie. Finn, Malachi, and Timmy are going to have to move, too. I’m gonna have to find them a place nearby. I want them close enough to call, but not so close that they’ll be able to hear Evie screaming my name when I fuck her into next week.
An internet search yielded a couple of available spacious Airbnbs nearby, so maybe we can grab one for them and the new crew, who are already on their way down.
After ferrying the last of Evie’s plants from the back of the SUV, I plop my suitcase and gym bag onto the floor of the foyer and shut the door. Evie’s in the front room, on her knees, releasing Juniper and Poppy from their pet carrier. She looks up at the sound of the door, her eyes zeroing in on my bags. “You planning on staying here, too?”
“Why? Don’t you want me here?” I tease, watching Juniper step cautiously around her new surroundings.
“I don’t know.” Evie stands, brushing her hands off. “I guess I thought our living arrangement was out of necessity. I didn’t think you actually wanted to cohabitate.”
“That’s generally what married couples do,” I say, going for nonchalance as I approach her. "Besides, leaving you alone out here just doesn't feel right."
She looks at the floor, nodding in agreement. “I know, but I don't want you to feel trapped or obligated to stay.”
I tip her chin up, wanting her eyes on me. I can see it’s going to take some convincing to make Evie understand she’s not the only one feeling things. This is where it gets sticky. Our marriage started as a means of protection: protecting Evie, protecting my family’s interests. But the way I feel is evolving. It snuck up on me, too—I’ve been so focused on the distillery and Randall and the Deschamps that I didn’t realize I was also falling for the girl. Somehow, over card games and late-night dinners and all that teasing, this fondness started taking root in my heart. I told myself it was just a byproduct of living together, of all that proximity, but now I’m wondering if it was something more.
Granted, I fall easily—my family calls me a hopeless romantic. I’ve been a sucker for cute girls since Nia Richie in the third grade. Things happened backwards with Evie, though. Usually, a woman’s looks draws me in, then her personality. But I knew Evie first because we have history.
When I saw Evie this time around, that first morning on her father’s porch, it was like seeing her with new eyes. I registered that she was beautiful, but she was still just Evie, and had she not admitted to liking me, I’d never have pursued her. I’d have chalked up my attraction to a physical reaction and left it at that. But in reciprocating, she opened up a realm of possibility for us.
I’ve had a lot of loves . How unreal would it be if the girl I’ve known forever turned out to be the real one?
“You should know by now that I do what I want, Evie. I married you because it made sense, but I’m staying here because I want to.” I brush my thumb over her lips. “And I can’t leave you alone because I want you .”
“Oh,” she breathes, understanding dawning.
My heartbeat, unexpectedly, picks up. I lean in, stopping when I’m a breath away. Every time we do this, the lines get blurrier. Maybe I’m as confused as she is. But then her lips are on mine, soft and tentative. I kiss her back, wrapping my arms around her waist and her hands come up, twining behind my neck. It’s a sexy kiss, one that heats up fast.
Until a Jurassic-level growl floats up from her belly, so gnarly I feel it as much as I hear it. Evie pulls back to look at me with a little grin. “Oops.”
“Let me guess,” I say dryly. “You didn’t eat all day because you were on a mission to get as far away from me as possible.”
“Something like that.”
“Sounds like torture,” I tease. I don’t know how people go all day without eating—I could never. “I’m kinda hungry, too, though. Crazy, right?”
“Shocking.” Giving me a little push, she walks over to a bag of cat food and picks it up. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Someplace new,” I reply. “No more BBQ or subs.”
She pauses, thinking for a moment. “How about Mediterranean food? There’s a place on Broughton Street that serves the best falafel I’ve ever had.”
Now my stomach’s growling. “I could do falafel.”
After ensuring the cats are set up in the sunroom with food, water, and litter boxes, we venture downtown for a late lunch. I’m waiting for Evie to finish up in the restroom afterward when a familiar figure catches my eye. Cole. He’s across the street, talking on the phone as he walks down the sidewalk.
He’s made himself scarce since we threw down, but this is his city, so I knew that it was just a matter of time before our paths crossed again.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Evie says, joining me at the window. “You still like fudge, right? There’s a sweet shop a couple doors down. Wanna go?”
“Sure.” I slide my arm around Evie’s shoulder as the crowd swallows Cole. “That sounds good.”
We’re at the sweet shop’s expansive glass case a few minutes later, perusing its chocolatey goodness, when I chance another look out the window. This time it’s a large, bright blue flag that gets my attention, billowing from a restaurant on the opposite corner. It, and the sign below, both read Mama Avanelle’s.
The Deschamps family restaurant Kenny told me about the day I got here. Looks like I found it by accident.
“Let’s just get an assortment,” Evie suggests, nibbling a sample of fudge the clerk just handed her. “That way we can share later.”
“Sure.” I shake it off, bringing myself back to the here and now. Evie. “Make sure there’s peanut butter in there. And caramel.”
We buy enough fudge to feed an army, which is what Finn, Timmy, and Malachi will be when they see all this sugar, and leave. “Whew, it’s hot,” Evie says, sliding her sunglasses on.
“Yeah, it is.” I glance at the restaurant as we start walking. My thoughts must’ve summoned him because Cole’s back, leaning against the wall outside Mama Avanelle’s. He’s watching us now, his face expressionless as he lifts a cigarette to his lips.
I wrap my arm around Evie, pulling her so obnoxiously close that she misses a step, and she snorts, smacking my arm. It’s a possessive move, but it’s also a protective one. You can look all you want, fucker. That’s where it ends.
Only, it’s never that easy. We want the same things: the distillery, the girl. Cole might not try something here, in a busy location so close to his family’s restaurant, but he’s like a mad dog. If it bites you once, it’ll bite you again. No sooner do I think it than he lifts his hand, fashions it into a finger gun, and shoots. I’d laugh him off with that corny bullshit, only I know he’s crazy enough to mean it. I stop walking, and Evie stops with me, looking up at me in confusion.
For a long moment, we stare at each other as cars traverse the busy street and people pass between us. I feel Evie follow my gaze, her nails digging into my waist when she sees what I’m looking at. But I just hold her closer, my heart skipping a beat at the malicious intent in Cole’s eyes.
Outing the cigarette beneath his boot, he pushes off the wall and strolls over to the door, disappearing inside the restaurant.
“Sorry about that,” Evie says, shaking her head. “I didn’t even think about Mama Avanelle’s being so close.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I text Finn, giving him my vehicle’s location and asking him to meet us there. I don’t trust Cole. He might not stay put, and he probably has backup of his own. “It’s not your fault he’s a fucking psychopath.”
Evie sighs. “I know, but …”
Finn texts back with a thumbs-up. He and Timmy are actually close by, having just stopped at our new local plug over in the Starland District. I let him know we’ll meet them in a few, and then Evie and I start walking again. She tries to hide it, but she’s anxious now, peeking back every few seconds.
Back in Boston, we rolled with a crew. If there was one thing my father drilled into Lucky and me, it was the buddy system. We never went anywhere alone, not even as kids. We always had each other’s backs.
It’s different in a city that’s not my own, and even though I’ve brought my guys, I feel vulnerable. I know Evie’s got my back—she’s got it more than any girl ever has—and I’ve got hers, but I worry it’s not enough.