Chapter 43 Once an Addict, Always an Addict
ONCE AN ADDICT, ALWAYS AN ADDICT
“Oh, Evan, thank god you’re here,” Bailey greeted me at the door. “I tried to stop them but…”
“Stop who?” I stepped into the house. It was so different than my mother’s house. This one felt better. Like whoever lived here would be loved no matter what.
“Noah and Tristan. God, when those two get together, they do the stupidest shit. Then Craig bought a bottle of whiskey, and Noah has had a bad day. Thank you for that. It seems stupid that I can’t face James.
But every time I see him, I want to beat his head in with a tire iron for what he did to Tristan.
” Her smile was crooked. “And my doctor said I need to keep my blood pressure down.”
I laughed. “It’s fine. James and I go way back. But what do I need to stop Tristan and Noah from doing?”
“Oh yes. Sorry, pregnancy brain. Tristan wants to tattoo Noah. I don’t care. I mean, I think his brother should be sober though.”
The first wheel started to wobble. “Where are they?”
“Basement.” She pointed to the door in the kitchen.
I could hear Tristan. I could pick out his voice over the music, over Craig.
The basement was only partially finished, on the far wall a couch and TV.
A shirtless and pantsless Tristan sat by the washer and dryer.
He had an overhead shop lamp shining down on Noah, who was also shirtless and sitting on a lawn chair.
Tristan had a marker in his hand, his head cocked, looking at Noah’s arm.
Craig sat on the washer, giving advice on where the tattoo should be.
I watched him for a moment. I used to do that a lot, watch him.
Study every movement and watch for something that wasn’t right.
A bruised muscle or a broken bone. Watch for the cracks to show or for a sign he was slipping.
But that was then. Now he moved freely and confidently in his skin.
He still had that smile though. The one that made you want to stand and look at it. Bask in its warmth.
His hair was pushed back, and the right leg of his boxers had ridden up, showing the dark swirls of ink that wrapped around his thigh and down his calf. He was perfect. And I was bound to him. No matter what happened. I would always be drawn back. Like a moth to a flame.
“What are you doing?” My voice cracked.
“Ev.” A lazy smile crossed Noah’s face. His eyes were glassy but not sad. “I’m gettin’ inked.”
“No, you’re not.” I stepped down the final step. Tristan looked better the closer I got. “Your brother is drunk, and so are you.”
Tristan turned to me. He looked me up and down, chewing on the marker cap. “Am not.”
“Oh, really? You always tattoo in your underwear?”
He spat the cap out and licked his bottom lip. “It’s good for business. Plus”—he looked down at his lap—“it’s where I keep my best equipment.”
Noah snorted a laugh. “Wait, are you talking about your cock?”
“Okay, let’s wrap it up.” I shook my head.
“He’s talking about his cock, isn’t he?” Noah asked Craig.
“Noah, stop saying that.” I tried not to laugh.
“What, cock?” Noah shrugged. “I would think you know he has one. A cock, that is.”
Craig snorted out a laugh. “That she does.”
Tristan twisted in his chair to face me. It took everything not to look below his neck. So instead, I watched his mouth and his eyes. Looking for a sign that we weren’t done. That there was still a chance. He cocked his head and lifted a brow. We were far from done.
“You think this is funny?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, I do.” His voice was low. The cut on his cheek looked good on him. Or maybe that was what I was used to seeing on him.
“Cocks aren’t funny, Ev.” Noah shifted in his chair.
“No, they are not.” Craig nodded in agreement.
“Is that what you were going to get tattooed? ‘Cocks aren’t funny?’” This was the dumbest conversation I had ever had. And that was saying a lot. I had to sit through a session with a client who thought the world was flat. But I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to lose this Tristan.
“Nope. It’s a secret.” Noah tried to wink but ended up blinking really slow.
“Noah, Bailey is tired and would like to go to bed. And your brother is not going to tattoo you in his underwear.”
“Okay.” Noah hung his head and stood. He swayed a couple times before inhaling. “I think I’m drunk.” He walked over to me. “You always had the best Pop-Tarts, Ev. And you were nice. When he wasn’t, you were.”
Noah was close enough I could see the flecks of green in his eyes. I could see the scar on his lip from when he tried to stop James that night. I could see the pain just under the surface. “Go to bed.”
He hugged me tightly. “I love you, Ev. You did what no one else would do. Kept him safe.”
I watched him half crawl, half walk up the stairs. I turned back to Tristan. “Why don’t you have pants on?”
“Washed them.” He nodded to the dryer.
“Well, get dressed. Your sober cab is leaving soon.” I started up the stairs.
“I can stay here,” Tristan said. “I know how your mother—”
“She’s fine with this. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she made you breakfast in bed tomorrow. You too, Craig.”
Craig jumped off the washer and opened the dryer and threw some dark clothes at Tristan before grabbing the empty bottles. “Whose bed will it be served in?” He winked as he headed up the stairs.
Tristan slipped on the shirt and then a pair of joggers. Of course they were gray. Why wouldn’t they be? And the T-shirt was dark and fit him perfectly. He moved the chairs out of the way and switched over the load from the washer, sorting through a few things to air dry before starting the dryer.
“It’s no big deal. No one’s going to check if I’m there,” he said, leaning against the dryer.
“Darcy is fine. She’s got a lot going on this week, so she won’t be around much. Unless you don’t want to stay.” I looked around the basement.
“No, didn’t say that.”
“Who told you I was engaged?” I finally looked at him.
“Ev.”
“Just answer me.” I knew who it was. Besides my mother, there was another person who would have wanted to hurt Tristan. “Was it Anna?”
“She was only trying to protect you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m tired of people trying to protect me. And no one asked me what the fuck I wanted.” I turned and walked up the stairs.
In the car Tristan and Craig made small talk about Parkfield as I drove us home. Craig grew up in the Cities, so he didn’t get this. His hometown grew and evolved every month. Parkfield didn’t. Maybe that’s why people loved it. It never changed. It was a constant thing in an inconstant world.
All the lights were off except the one in the hall when we pulled in. I showed Craig to the spare room. It had been turned into my mother’s exercise room. Judging by the dust on the hand weights and the amount of winter coats stacked on the treadmill, that was another phase that had come and gone.
“You okay?” Craig hugged me. “Noah said things were tough at the funeral home.”
I rested my head on his chest, trying not to let the day’s events seep into my bones. Let them imprint on my mind. I stepped away and pulled the shades shut. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I mean, Tris and I can share a room.” Craig looked at the twin bed.
“No. We’ve done this before. Plus, it’s safer. My mother is not happy with me.”
“I’m sorry, Evan.”
“For what? It’s not your fault you’ve just stepped into the Parkfield horror. We have to go to the florist tomorrow and pick out flowers. Then decide if she’s to be cremated or buried. Unfortunately, James has a say in that.”
Craig flopped down on the bed. It squeaked.
“Remember, it’s better than the Parkfield Inn,” I reminded him.
“And better than an air mattress at Noah’s. It’s great. Was he really that bad? Tris won’t talk about him.”
“Yeah. You know that scar above Tristan’s left eye?
He got that when James threw a bottle at him.
The one on his lip, James punched him in the mouth.
That was his favorite place. The scar on his forearm, James put Tristan’s arm through a window.
Do you know how many times Tristan has been strangled?
Because I do. I remember every one of them.
” And being here brought them all to the surface.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ev. No wonder you two are so fucked up over each other. That shit doesn’t fix itself. You should see somebody about that.”
“I try, but he keeps running away. Bathroom’s down the hall on the right. Goodnight.” I closed Craig’s door and walked to my room. I could make Tristan sleep on the floor or on the old pullout couch in the basement. But I’d end up there, and my bed was much more comfortable.
Plus, he was already stretched out on my bed.
Just like when we were younger. On his stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow.
I turned out the light and slipped off my shoes and crawled into bed next to him.
That, and his mom had just died. She was a horrible person, but she was still his mom. And he would need a friend.
I turned to face him. I could barely make out his features in the low light. This was the first time we had been alone since that day. He rolled onto his side and ran a finger over my brow before cupping my cheek.
“Are you really here?” His voice was soft.
I slid closer and kissed the palm of his hand. “Yes.”
He let out a shuddered breath.
“It’s okay.” I pulled him into my embrace and tucked his head under my chin, burying my nose in his soft hair. He pulled me closer, running his hand up the back of my shirt. His fingers were cool on my skin. I could feel his damp lashes on my neck. They fluttered like a moth’s wings.
The stars and fate are cruel things to keep putting oceans and people between us.
To keep me from that in which I need to live.
To make me fall in love with someone before I knew who I was.
That’s why Romeo and Juliet is my favorite tale.
And not for the reason you think. But because they died in the end.
They never had to live through this part. The hard parts. The growing pain of loving someone so much it took your breath away. That even when you saw him kissing another girl, you felt like it was your fault. That you were the one who wasn’t good enough.
I knew that wasn’t true and at the time, Tristan wasn’t thinking of me. He didn’t know how to handle his mother and her lies. I would never forget the words he said.
“Don’t cry, Blu. I’m not worth your tears. I’m just a mistake. Just a fucked-up mistake.”
So, when he pushed me away, I let him. And now I realized I’d been letting him do that ever since.
Letting him push me away so I wouldn’t see him slip.
But not anymore. This time, when the boy, who was now asleep in my arms with his perfect mouth pressed against my neck, pushed, I’d pull.
I’d pull him from the storm that threatened to swallow him whole.