Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1) - Page 135

“I’ll try and come more often,” I tell her, knowing that it’s a lie. I say it every year; but I know I won’t come more than once.

Lifting my hand to my mouth, I place a kiss on my fingers and touch the stone again before turning around and walking away from her, knowing that I need to fix what I broke today with Harmony.

As soon as Tristan told me to go home, I was in a state of shock and did what I was told. I’ve been curled up in Mom’s arms ever since I arrived home, still lying on the sofa in the ridiculous princess dress that Izzie insisted I wore.

I was apprehensive about the painting. I’d spent days staring at it and wondering whether I should paint something different or buy something else for her, but a little voice in the back of my mind told me that this was the right thing to do. I wanted to show that I wasn’t trying to take her place in their lives: I wanted Izzie to have something that she’s never had before, something she could treasure.

I didn’t know what to expect, but I never planned for a reaction like that. He was furious and I honestly think that this is it—that my thoughtful present will lead to the demise of our budding relationship before it’s even really begun.

My heart seizes at the thought and I sit up, rubbing at my chest.

“You okay, hon?” Mom asks.

I shake my head and stand up, needing some space. “Not really, but I will be. I’m going to go and change out of this dress.” I scratch my neck. “It’s starting to irritate me.”

Her worried expression has me shooting her a reassuring smile before walking out of the room and up the stairs to get changed.

Once dressed in my comfiest pajama shorts set, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the reflection of the tired woman looking back at me. My mascara has gathered underneath my bloodshot eyes, making me look like a panda, so I grab a washcloth and my face cleanser, gently taking off my makeup and sighing at my stupidity.

Bracing myself against the bathroom counter, I inwardly berate myself. I couldn’t have bought her a freaking princess dress or painted her a unicorn, could I? I had to go and paint a picture of her and her late mom and present it to her at her birthday party. What was I thinking?

I shake my head as I remember everyone’s reactions; except now that I think about it, the only one with a bad reaction was Tristan. Sure, everyone was shocked, but Izzie and Clayton seemed to love it.

What if Tristan can’t get over this? He said he’d call me and he hasn’t, but I guess it’s too soon.

I walk down the stairs, dragging my feet into the living room and freeze at the loud knock coming from the front door.

Mom jumps to her feet but I put my hand out, telling her silently that I’ll get it. I look through the peephole and my heart leaps in my chest.

Tristan is standing out on the small porch, rain dripping from his hair that is plastered to his head. He’s soaked to the bone from the torrential downpour that started earlier this evening and hasn’t let up since.

I open the door immediately and his head snaps up, looking at me through sad eyes.

“Harmony.” His voice cracks as he stares at me, uncertainty in his eyes. “Can we…” He blows out a breath and pushes his hand through his soaking wet hair. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, come in.” I push open the door a little farther so he can step inside and I motion toward the kitchen.

He follows me in and sits down at the dining table as I hear footsteps walking up the stairs: Mom giving us some privacy.

“I’ll be right back.” He nods in reply and I run upstairs and grab a towel off the rail, running it back downstairs before handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice unsure as he rubs the towel over his hair and face.

“You’re welcome. Can I get you—”

“Harmony, I’m—”

We both chuckle and he motions for me to go first. “Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything important. I was only going to ask if you wanted a cup of coffee or something. You go,” I say, waving my hand at him.

“I’m good.” He clears his throat and looks around before bringing his gaze back to mine. “I… I’m sorry about how I reacted. It was uncalled for, I just…” He blows out a breath. “I didn’t expect it.”

I look down at my hands, inspecting my nails that badly need a manicure. “You don’t need to explain yourself, it was a shock, but… it was my fault. I should’ve talked to you about it. I blindsided you.” I look up at him again. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I thought that… I wanted to give her something that meant more than your standard unicorn or princess.”

“I know... I can see that now.” He drops his gaze to the floor, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before looking back up at me. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Fuck! I hate that I did.”

He stands up out of the chair he’s sitting in and the towel falls off his lap and onto the floor as he walks toward me. I back up against the kitchen counter behind me, the feel of the wood against my fingertips grounding me.

He stops barely inches away from me and I look up into his face, trying my best to read what he’s showing me with his eyes.

Tags: Abigail Davies Broken Tracks Romance
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