Chapter 27
Tristan
Aweek later, we respond to a particularly bad car wreck on the highway. Fourteen cars piled up, dozens of injuries, ten people who need to go to the hospital, and two fatalities.
The moment we get the dispatch call, Nick runs to me.
“It’s a car wreck,” he murmurs as we hurry to the ambulance. “Are you gonna be okay?”
If anyone else checked in on me like this, I would find it annoying, patronizing, condescending.
But from Nick, it feels genuine, like he cares. It makes me feel safe, known.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Promise?” he asks as he starts the ambulance.
“Promise.”
I still haven’t told Nick about Warren.
Sometimes I wonder if I should. I know he would care, but I don’t want to complicate things.
Would he still be interested in sleeping with me if he knew how damaged I am? If he knew the baggage I’m carrying around?
I don’t know, and the possibility that he’d no longer be interested scares me. I don’t want to find out.
Of course, there’s always the chance that his interest has already passed.
But for some reason, I don’t think so.
“You seem lost in thought,” he says. “What’s on your mind?”
“Just…things.”
He smiles. “Interesting things?”
I shrug. “Could be.”
“Wow. Mysterious.”
“That’s me.”
He shakes his head. “Nah. You’re not mysterious. Not to me.”
The fear of being known.
“Is that right?”
Cars swerve to let us through on the road.
“Yeah. You’re not really an open book, Tristan, but I think I’ve gotten a few glimpses of your pages.”
“Have you?”
He smiles—one last moment of levity before we reach the emergency. “I have. Is that such a bad thing?”
? ? ?
Is that such a bad thing? I ask myself that question on repeat through the rest of the shift. Is it a bad thing to be known? Must I let myself be known if I want to be loved?
These thoughts are still spinning in my head the next day when I drag myself out of the fire station at the end of my shift.
Nick slipped out without saying goodbye—not that I expect him to say goodbye to me. We don’t owe each other anything. We’re becoming friends, sure, but we aren’t anything more. Not officially.
Of course, I know that he would be interested in being more. At least in the sense that he wants to try certain things with me.
Even the thought of that makes me shiver pleasantly.
I’m getting brunch today with Chasten and Yale.
Yale suggested the place, a hip café that serves “deconstructed” breakfast (whatever that means), and is popular with influencers. Not necessarily my type of place, but food is food.
I have time to make it home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before I head to the café.
Bobbie is at work, and Dad is golfing. The house is quiet, the stove is off, and the doors are locked. The kitchen table is covered with literature for different home health care agencies. We haven’t found anyone we like yet, and we’ve interviewed a few.
That’s a problem for not right now, so I ignore them, grab a jacket, my keys, and head out to my car.
It takes me ten minutes to drive to the café, and another ten minutes to find parking, and when I finally make it inside, Chasten and Yale are sitting at a booth, drinking Bloody Marys.
“We got you one!” Yale says cheerfully when he sees me. “Extra spicy. Hope that’s okay.”
“Just how I like it.” I hug them both and gladly slurp some of the drink. “Thank you.”
“I feel like it’s been forever,” Chasten says. “How are you?”
It hasn’t been forever, but it’s been long enough that we all have plenty of things to update each other on.
I’m so thankful for Chasten and Yale. We’ve become good friends, and I really feel like they’ve welcomed me into the fold. I try to see them at least once a week when I’m not working.
“We should go out again, soon,” Yale says. “It’s been too long. I haven’t been out since my birthday.”
“Let’s do something this weekend!” Chasten says. “Tris? Are you working?”
“Every other day. I could do Friday, but I can’t be out too late. My shift starts at seven the next day.”
Yale whistles. “I don’t know how you do twenty-four-hour shifts.”
“Eh. You get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t want to. But Friday works for me.”
“Back to the Anvil?” Chasten asks suggestively.
Instantly, I’m alert.
If we went back to the fetish club, this time I would want to push myself to try some stuff. But, then again, I’m not sure I want to try something unless….
And you should try them with me.
“You good, Tris?” Yale asks. “You just got a sort of thousand-yard stare in your eyes.”
I make a split-second decision. “I want to explore kink,” I tell them both matter-of-factly.
To their credit, neither of them misses a beat.
“Cool,” Yale says. “Anything specific you want to try?”
I’m not used to talking about sexual things so freely, but Chasten and Yale are both very sex-positive, and I find that it’s easy with them.
I explain, succinctly and in a low voice, how I’m interested in being submissive during sex, and in exploring power exchange.
“That’s built on trust,” Yale muses. “It’s important to try it with someone you really trust, someone you can negotiate with, who understands consent and what your limits are.
That’s how I knew Phineas would be such a great dom.
He’s so communicative. A consent king. We keep a really open conversation about what we’re both comfortable with, and we have safe words and all that. ”
Chasten is watching me carefully.
“Is there someone specific that you want to try these things with?” he asks coyly.
“What makes you say that?”
“What about your hot coworker?”
I instantly blush.
“Who?” I try to sound innocent and confused.
“You’re not fooling me,” he says airily. “You’ve talked about this ‘Nick’ a few times. Of course, I don’t know if he’s hot, but you certainly make it sound like he is.”
“I mean, yeah, he’s pretty dreamy,” I admit.
I lean forward. “Remember the guy I was talking to at the bar, the last time we went to the Anvil?”
“No,” Yale says. “I was downstairs getting tied up and railed.”
“And good for you on that. Well, this guy came up to me. Super hot, very ‘dom’ energy, and we chatted for a bit. There was definitely a vibe there that he was interested in, you know, doing stuff—”
“Filthy kinky stuff?” Chasten asks, buttering his toast.
“Yes, that. But, well, I kinda freaked out, and that’s why I left.”
“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Yale asks, suddenly alert.
“No, not at all. He was a perfect gentleman about it. But we got each other’s numbers, and I texted him the next morning, and we agreed to get coffee. Then, I got to work, and wouldn’t you know it, he’s my coworker.”
“No shit,” Yale says.
“Yes shit. He’s the other paramedic on my shift. We share an ambulance every day.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Chasten asks.
“Ew,” I say. “But, well, he’s the hot coworker. That’s Nick.”
Chasten and Yale exchange a glance.
“And are you interested in him?” Chasten asks.
To answer their question, I pull out my phone, open my messages with Nick, and scroll back to his suggestion that I “try things” with him.
“Here, look at this.”
They scan the messages.
“You didn’t reply?” Yale gasps, scandalized.
“No. I’m still thinking about it.”
“But do you want to say yes?” Chasten cries.
“Um.”
“Girl, do you want to be fucked by your gorgeous, handsome coworker, or not?” Yale says.
A pair of girls with bleached hair and perfectly contoured features glance our way. I ignore them.
“It’s not that simple.”
Neither of my friends protests that it is, actually, that simple, which I appreciate. Instead, they both adopt curious expressions.
“Why not?” Chasten asks gently.
I take a deep breath through my nose and then flag down the waiter to order another Bloody Mary.
“Well, Chasten, you know about Warren.”
He tilts his head. “I don’t know the full story. I know that he—that he passed.”
Yale glances between the two of us. “Who’s Warren?”
“Warren was my fiancé.”
I sigh and feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
“We started dating when we were still in college. We had a great relationship. I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but it was good. We loved each other, and we made it work.”
I close my eyes, tell myself that I’m not going to cry.
“Just over a year ago, now, we were driving back from another friend’s engagement party.
We got into a bit of an argument. Nothing huge, but it rattled me because we never fought.
Like, ever. But…well, he was frustrated because these friends had just gotten engaged, and already had picked out their wedding date.
We’d been engaged for more than a year, and I wasn’t any closer to wanting to talk about an actual date for the wedding.
He was ready. I wasn’t. He wanted me to be ready, but… .”
I trail off, the memories of that night still fresh and painful. I give up on trying not to cry.
“The car came out of nowhere. Warren was driving, and he didn’t have a chance to swerve. The car hit us head-on. We flipped, and Warren was thrown from the car. Somehow, I survived with minimal injuries. Warren was pronounced dead on the spot.”
“Oh my god,” Yale whispers.
“It was after the accident that I decided to become a paramedic,” I whisper.
There are tears on my cheeks, but I don’t care to wipe them away.
“I’d loved being an ER nurse, but I felt a new calling. Those paramedics had worked so hard to save Warren, even when there was nothing they could do.”
I shake my head. I’ve gotten off-track, but admittedly, it feels good to talk about this. Yeah, it hurts, but it’s something I needed to talk about.
“I feel guilty, I guess, pursuing something now. Something romantic or sexual. Warren and I were completely monogamous, which is fine, but it meant that I never had the chance to explore other interests. I was so young when we started dating. Warren had no interest in kink. He wasn’t dominant or submissive.
He loved missionary, and the one time I asked him to spank me, he almost cried.
And, like, not in a good way. Now it almost feels like I’m betraying his memory if I try things with someone else. ”
Chasten and Yale nod—even if they don’t personally get it, I can tell that they’re doing their best to understand, and I appreciate it.
Yale takes my hand.
“No one can force you to move on until you’re ready,” he says. “And only you will know when that is. There’s nothing wrong with taking the time you need to wait.”
“But also,” Chasten adds carefully, “Don’t punish yourself by waiting longer than you have to.
You’re not betraying Warren. I don’t mean this callously in any way, but he’s gone.
You had great years together, and those years are done.
You’re still here, Tristan. And we’re so glad that you’re here.
You’re a survivor, and you’re magnificent.
You deserve to live the best version of your life, a life filled with joy and love and pleasure—and pain, because sometimes pain is what reminds us we’re alive, that we’ve still got something to lose, that we deserve to heal. ”
“Do you trust this guy Nick?” Yale asks.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to try things with him?” Chasten asks.
I barely hesitate. “Yes.”
“Do you think you’re ready?” Yale asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You might not know until you try,” Chasten says softly. “Have you told him about all of this?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I want to. It’s a lot of baggage.”
“No one is checking into life without baggage,” Yale says wisely. “If he’s a good guy, he won’t care.”
“Agreed. It won’t scare him away,” Chasten adds.
He nods to my phone. “Maybe you could text him? We can sit with you for moral support.”
I want to hug them both.
I’ve never had friends like them, friends who will listen without judgment, who will give the best advice they can, who love me, and who see me.
“Okay,” I whisper.
My hands tremble as I type out a simple message.
TRISTAN: I want to try. With you.