But, even if I told Triston the truth – I’m not mad – that doesn’t mean it won’t be weird to meet with the woman who now owns my best friend’s heart. My sister’s heart, even if we were never officially family.
It’s been hell since she left, long nights of crying, of remembering the good times. But I try not to remember the good times because it hurts too much. I know I can never get them back.
But it’s what Lisa wanted. That’s all that matters.
Triston takes a sip of his coffee and then sets it down. It’s like he wants to get out of here as quickly as possible if the way he stares at me is any indication.
He’s got a grim shape to his lips, his jaw is so tightly shut I’m surprised he doesn’t shatter his teeth.
“I need to leave for my bus soon,” I tell him. “I’ve got a shift at the restaurant.”
“I can give you a ride if you like.”
I almost gasp at the offer. Instead, I smooth down my pants, mostly so I have something to do with my hands. I need to direct all this buzzing energy somewhere.
Triston’s gaze jerks at the movement, his jaw getting even tighter.
Am I really that repulsive to him?
No, it’s not that. He’s not even thinking of me in that way, good or bad. This is about his daughter, Alexis, and the very fact he doesn’t want to be here.
Maybe he wanted me to say no when he said we should meet.
“Are you sure?” I murmur.
His eyes blaze telling me, no, but his lips tell me yes. “It’s no trouble.”
“In that case, we don’t need to leave for a little while.”
“What was she like?” Triston asks. “Lisa, I mean.”
A wide smile overtakes my face, my thoughts suddenly full of memories, too many to count, almost too many to catch. If I wrote a book of all our memories, it would be thousands and thousands of pages long.
“She was the best,” I whisper. “She was so kind, so caring. She always put others before herself. The night she slipped on the road, she was driving down to the homeless shelter to volunteer. She’d worked all day at the factory, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to help. She always wanted to help.”
Suddenly it’s too much. My throat tightens and tears stream down my cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” I fly to my feet, making for the bathroom door. “I-I just need a sec.”
I close and lock the door behind me, drop onto the toilet seat and bury my face in my hands. The grief always comes violently, without warning, leaving me feeling powerless and unable to go on.
I cry until there are no more tears.
Rising, I splash water on my face, staring at myself in the mirror.
My eyes are red pits, my cheeks are flushed and my hair is messy, despite my efforts to tame it.
Yeah, he’d never be interested in me.
CHAPTER THREE
Triston
I clench my hands into tight fists, listening to Tamia as she runs the sink in the bathroom. It’s taken every single shred of willpower I possess not to sweep her into my arms.
When she pursed her lips to blow on her coffee, I almost snapped. I imagined her pursing her lips in the same way as I slipped my fingers inside of her, deeper and deeper into her young hot slit, finding her sensitive spot and making her shudder.
When she smoothed her hands up and down her legs, nerves driving her, I couldn’t stop my gaze from snapping to her hands. Her legs are so gorgeously voluptuous, making a man think of sinking his hands into them, luxuriating in how much of her there is to indulge in.
No, not a man.
Me, only me.
I had to hold that back too, the words that tried to explode from my lips.
“You’re mine. You belong to me. Come and sit in my lap. Grind that pussy until you’re soaked, until you’re ready to take everything I have to give.”
I clench my jaw harder, trying to push the thoughts away.
I turn as the bathroom door opens.
Her eyes are red, triggering some instinct within me. Telling me to find whoever hurt her and make them pay, to hurt them as revenge.
But there’s no one to hurt. Her friend died on an icy road, a tragic accident.
All I can do is be there for my Tamia, support her as she pursues her dreams, and hold her when she needs it.
“Sorry about that,” she murmurs, returning to her seat. “It just hits me sometimes.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
She never has to apologize to me for the way she feels. I’m always going to be there, ready to support her whenever she needs it, whether it’s in her career or her personal life, or anything else.
I wonder how she’d react if I told her all of that right now, just came out and said it.