35. Tristan
THIRTY-FIVE
TRISTAN
My first day back at work, tension coils in my stomach. I'd ignored my co-workers the first few days I was on leave, and even after that, I'd still kept our conversations on the phone brief.
My time away was one of introspection. Steph's words echo in my head, urging me to make changes. The last time I went to therapy was over a decade ago, but now... now I need it. I close my eyes, the weight of the decision settling on my chest. I take a deep breath and walk through the door.
"Triscuit!" Nick's voice booms, his grin wide as he claps my back. "Good to have you back, man!"
"Thanks, man."
"Welcome back, Tristan," Haley chimes in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Jared and Connor nod in agreement, their smiles warm and welcoming.
"Miss us much?" Connor teases, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Like a toothache," I shoot back, grateful for the playful banter.
"Ouch, Triscuit. That cuts deep." Nick feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically.
"Keep it up, and I'll give you a real reason to be dramatic," I threaten jokingly, my lips curving into a genuine smile.
Laughter fills the room, easing my nerves. Maybe opening up won't be so bad after all.
Sitting in the station kitchen, the smell of pizza wafts around us as we dig into our meal. Laughter and good-natured teasing fill the room, making my stomach twist with nerves. This is it. Time to be open. I take a deep breath and just blurt it out.
"Guys, I'm pan, as in pansexual."
Silence falls for a moment before Nick breaks it with a snort. "Dude, you've got the worst poker face ever. Your 'I-want-to-bang-that-gay-straight-bi-trans-enby' eyes give you away every time."
"Seriously?" I chuckle, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "Was I that obvious?"
"Pretty much," Haley says, smirking. "But hey, it's cool. We're all still your friends, no matter who you're into."
"Um... Tristan?" Jared's expression is an equal mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. "What does it mean to be pansexual?" He raises his hands defensively. "I'm not trying to offend you; I just want to understand."
“No offense taken,” I say warmly, hoping he'll realize my appreciation for his interest in learning more about me. “To put it simply, being pansexual means I can connect with people sexually, emotionally, or romantically regardless of their gender or sex.”
"In other words," Nick, the fucker, says, "Triscuit can bang anyone…,” he pauses for effect, “as long as they're breathing, legal and willing." The man doesn't know when to shut the fuck up, but I know his words are said in fun.
"That's why you're sixty-nine and still don't get any sixty-nines," I retort, wriggling my eyebrows suggestively. "If you get my drift."
"Fuck you, asshole." Nick laughs.
"I'd rather not, dude." I wink at him. "You're not my type."
"I'm proud of you, man," he says, getting serious for once. "It takes a lot of guts to come out." We bounce our closed fists, and he claps me on my back.
When I glance at Jared, he seems deep in thought as if he's pondering my words.
I take another bite of pizza, grateful for their support. "I just wanted to let you know. I mean, it shouldn't matter who I fuck, right? But I figured you deserved the courtesy."
"Damn right." Jared gives me a thumbs up. "Glad you finally decided to share."
"Only took you forever," Connor adds, grinning. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"Never really had a reason to," I admit, shrugging. "Never saw anyone long enough to introduce them to you guys."
"Aw, poor lonely Tristan," Nick teases, nudging my shoulder. "Well, now we're all in the loop!"
"Actually," I hesitate, letting out a slow exhale. "There's more. Myles and I were dating."
"Knew it!" Nick crows triumphantly. "We could tell you two were banging."
"Nick!" I groan, embarrassed, but not surprised by his bluntness. "Could you be any more tactless?"
"Sorry, sorry," he chuckles, not looking remotely apologetic. "But seriously, congrats, man."
"Actually..." My voice trails off, and my heart aches as I admit the truth. "We broke up."
"Aw, Tristan," Haley says sympathetically. "I'm really rooting for you two to get back together. You deserve happiness."
I manage a small, sad smile. "I hope we can work things out too."
Before I can say anything more, the alarm blares, cutting through the conversation like a knife. We all jump up, food forgotten, personal revelations cast aside. There's no time for emotions now; we have a job to do.
As we scramble into our gear and head out, the adrenaline kicks in, pushing away the lingering pain of my breakup. Right now, it's just me, my team, and the fire we're about to face. For the moment, that'll have to be enough.
The next game day that I'm off from work, I'm there. Watching. Cheering. My heart swells with pride as I see Nix on the field. It doesn't matter if the team wins or loses; he's my boy, and that's all that matters.
My eyes wander to Myles, coaching from the sidelines. I can't help it; the man is magnetic. His strong arms, his focused gaze, that tight ass... Dammit, why am I torturing myself like this? I want him so badly it hurts.
"Come on, Nix, you got this!" I shout, trying to banish thoughts of Myles from my mind.
But it's useless. The memory of our time together lingers, taunting me.
The way he kissed me, touched me, loved me...
I crave it. I craved it then, and I crave it now.
But I know better than to hope for more.
As much as I love him... want him—shit, I fucking need him—I'll never put him in a position where he feels pressured to come back to me before he's absolutely ready, assuming he ever is ready. I’d never do that because I'd be afraid if I did—and his heart wasn’t really in it—he'd eventually leave me anyway. And I wouldn’t survive that.
It would be a loss from which I would never recover.
Nix’s team won the game, and afterward, Myles and I exchange pleasantries.
It’s all perfectly civil, perfectly amiable...
perfectly maddening! Inside, I'm screaming, begging him to come back to me.
I'm waiting for him and giving him the space he's asked for, but all the while, I’m silently willing him to love me again, to put our family back together.
And of course, Nix is his usual exuberant self, bubbling over with enthusiasm and affection, making me miss the family we’d created even more.
Oh, how I love those two! They're absolutely my favorite humans.
A few days later, I get a notification on my phone signalling an incoming message. It's Myles.
Myles: Hey Tristan, would you mind watching Nix today? I've got two job interviews lined up, and his grandparents are down with the flu, so they can't keep him. I could really use your help.
Without any hesitation, I send my response.
Me: Of course. A day with Nix? Absolutely. No problem.
Myles: Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.
When I arrive at Myles's apartment, there isn’t much time to talk. I wish him good luck and he reminds Nix to do his homework, and then he leaves for his first interview.
Once Myles is gone, Nix and I dive into an afternoon of fun. We start with homework, and I help him finish his math problems. Then, I whip up a healthy snack—yogurt parfaits with fresh fruit and granola.
"Yummy!" Nix exclaims, digging in. "This is so good, Daddy."
"Thanks, little man," I say, grinning. My heart feels full as we chat and laugh together. These moments with him make everything worthwhile.
"Can we play video games now?" Nix asks excitedly, and I can't resist that adorable face.
"Sure thing," I agree, and we spend hours playing and joking around. Time flies, and before I know it, Myles is back. Nix gives me a big hug before retreating to his room, leaving me alone with Myles.
The apartment is quiet. Nix is a creature of habit; as soon as his head hits the pillow, he'll be out like a light. Without a doubt, he's already fast asleep in his room, cozied up under his superhero blankets.
Myles and I engage in polite conversation, but the distance between us feels greater than ever. My heart aches for him.
"Thanks again, Tristan." His voice is soft and sincere. "I don't know what I would've done without you. You're always there for us."
"Of course. Anytime." My heart is racing. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, it feels like we’ve gone back to a time when we could have talked about any-fucking-thing. And then he looks away, and the moment is gone.
"It was a pleasure," I say, giving him a friendly smile, even as my chest tightens with longing.
I turn to leave, feeling Myles's eyes on me as I walk towards the door. Just before I step into the hallway, he calls out my name. "Tristan."
"Yeah?" I look back at him, and suddenly, he's right there. He’s closed the gap between us, and he’s pushing me across the width of the hallway until my back hits the concrete wall with an umph.
He presses his luscious lips to mine, and for a moment, I'm too stunned to react.
But then, desire and need flood through me, and I kiss him back with all the pent-up passion I've been holding inside.
Our mouths move together, hungrily exploring each other.
His tongue slips past my lips, teasing and tasting.
I moan into the kiss, feeling my body heat up with every touch.
Our hands roam, grasping at one another, desperate to feel more skin.
I reach beneath his shirt, running my fingers over his firm abs and up to his chiseled chest. God, how I've missed this.
"Sweetheart," Myles gasps between kisses, "I can't stop thinking about you."
"Me too, baby," I admit, my voice low and breathless. This is wrong, but it feels so fucking good… so fucking right.
But then the reality of our situation hits me like a ton of bricks. We're half-naked in the hallway, where anyone—possibly even Nix—could see us. What the hell are we doing?
"Wait," I pant, pulling away from Myles. "We can't… we shouldn’t do this."
"Tristan, I—” He looks as lost and confused as I feel.
"Sorry," I mumble, backing away from him. I need to get out of here, now. I rush to my own apartment, my heart pounding in my chest.
Once inside, I slam the door shut and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.
My body is still on fire, aching for the release only Myles can provide.
With trembling hands, I shove my jeans the rest of the way down and wrap my fingers around my throbbing erection.
The thought of Myles's gorgeous face and his strong hands on me propels me to stroke myself with abandon, and I’m riding the ragged edge of orgasm in no time.
"Fuck, Myles." I groan, pumping faster. The memory of our heated kisses, the taste of his mouth on mine, has me spiraling towards ecstasy. As I careen over that edge, I cry out his name, feeling my release spill over my hand.
Panting, I slide down the wall, my mind racing. What have I just done? And what does this mean for Myles and me? We can't ignore this any longer. Something has to change. But what? And when?