Shattered - the Secret Life of Trystan Scott #4 Read online

  Breathless, Trystan says, “You know me so well.” He tries hard to hide it, but he can’t. His body hums when she touches him. Those perfectly pink lips are so close. When Mari spoke, they touched his mouth with a light brush. The sensation is still shooting through him. It makes him want more. “So, are you planning on having your way with me on the stairs?”

  Mari’s face flames red. She laughs. “You’re such an ass.” Mari releases him and walks up a step.

  Trystan repeats her swift movement and pins her to the wall. His hips press into hers and she gasps. There’s no question about what she does to him. His eyes meet hers. His heart pounds harder. He leans in and brushes his lips across hers so lightly. It’s a ghost of a kiss, as subtle as a whisper. He pulls back and Mari gasps and grabs her heart. The smirk on Trystan’s face says he’s playing, toying with her, but he’s not. He’d kiss her like that all night, if he could.

  Mari’s knees are shaky after that. She tries to push off the wall and stand, but one leg doesn’t cooperate and she falls into him. Trystan holds her arm and grins. “Took your breath away, did I?”

  “You’re evil,” she says, smiling, still breathless. “We seriously need to get you a long black cloak and a helmet.”

  “We could, but I think that’d just turn you on.” Trystan laughs as they walk up the stairs together and reach the upper landing. He follows Mari into her room. On her bed are some towels and a pair of jeans and a shirt, folded and stacked into a neat pile.

  The smile fades from Trystan’s lips. “What’s this?”

  Mari walks over to the pile and thrusts it at Trystan before she turns to the little bathroom in her room. “I thought you’d want to shower and change.” She’s opening the bathroom door and flicks on the lights. “I can reapply the make up around your neck in the morning. I’m guessing the bruise is an awesome shade of green now. Mine is.” She lifts the hem of her shirt. The bruise on her belly is purple with green tinges around the edges. She lifts her gaze and looks at him, still holding onto her shirt.

  Trystan’s mouth has gone dry. He steps toward her and sets the clothes and towels down on the counter before slipping his hand around her middle. “I’m so sorry for this. So sorry.” His voice is soft, barely audible. Something creeps up his throat and chokes him.

  Trystan’s fingers trace the bruise slowly, gently. Mari takes a slow breath, but exhales jaggedly. When he looks up, he sees her eyes and realizes what his touch did. While he was mourning his previous actions, she was frozen by his touch. Mari closes her eyes and blinks slowly, like she’s trying to snap out of it. But she can’t. Not as long as he’s touching her like this.

  Trystan withdraws his touch and runs his hand through his hair. Mari’s chest swells as she breathes in. It draws attention to her breasts. It makes him wonder what it would feel like to hold them in his hands. Trystan tears his gaze away. Although Mari said she changed her mind that one time, she hasn’t mentioned sex again. Trystan already decided that he won’t pressure her. He won’t sleep with her no matter what happens tonight.

  Trystan gathers his wits and picks up the clothes and towels. “Thank you for this. I won’t be long.” Trystan slips past her into the bathroom and closes the door. For a moment, all he does it stare at the knob. He wants her so badly. He can’t stand it. Every thought that fills his head is more forbidden than the last. The way Mari pressed him into the wall before set him on fire. Trystan knows he needs to calm down and put some distance between them or they’ll end up tangled in her sheets faster than he can blink.

  Trystan turns on the shower, making it as cold as he can tolerate.

  CHAPTER 11

  ~MARI~

  My heart is racing too hard. I didn’t think that I could feel more attracted to Trystan than I already did, but when he touched me like that—oh my God. It was like every inch of my body was burning. I couldn’t stop staring at his hands, willing them to touch me. I still haven’t moved. I’m leaning against the wall, and finally hear the shower turn on. I wonder what Trystan looks like in there with the water running over his body. I think about how much I’d like to run my hands over him. I don’t even realize that’s what I’m thinking. I just feel the palm of my hand grow hotter and more sensitive. I think about his bare skin and the water. I blink hard, trying to free the thoughts from my mind.

  Scolding myself, I push off the wall. What’s the matter with me? When did I become this hornball who only thinks about sex? I pad across the room and grab a pair of sweats from my dresser. I strip quickly with my back to the bathroom door in case Trystan walks out. The water is still running, but I’m too nervous to think.

  I’m mad at myself for acting like this, for melting so fast. He barely touched me and I’m falling to pieces. I tug my sweatshirt over my head and pull on a pair of fuzzy socks. This is the least sexy outfit I own. The sweatshirt is way too big. It swims on me. I yank my hair into a ponytail and jump up on the bed and flick on the TV. I try to stop thinking about him, but I can’t. I watch a show without really seeing it.

  When the water turns off, my heart beats faster. I wish I were a sane person. I wish for a lot of things that I can’t have. I decide that I’m not doing anything with him tonight. I want more time. Plus, the bruises on my stomach and the way it aches, I just would rather he saw me the way I usually am. I realize what I’m thinking and feel the heat burn across my cheeks.

  Trystan pulls open the bathroom door. He’s bare-chested, wearing the new jeans around his hips, with no shoes. His hair is so dark and still dripping. There’s a towel in his hand. Trystan wraps it around his shoulders. He notices my blush and says, “I love it when you do that.” He smiles at me, winks, and then runs the towel over his head.

  “I hate it when I do that, which seems to be all the time. It’s not becoming at all.” I realize I sound like my mother and flinch.

  But Trystan doesn’t care. He steps toward me with that sexy smile he always wears. “It’s sexy as hell.” He tugs at the towel and adds, “I can’t say the same for this, and unless I wear a towel all night, you’re going to see bruises. The thing is…” he looks down for a second. When his blue eyes lift, he meets my gaze. “I don’t want you to fuss about it all night. The past is the past. I can’t fix it. I would, if I could.” Trystan’s breathing hard, his chest is rising and falling too quickly. It pains me to see him like this.

  “You can leave the towel on, if you want. Or…” I smile. I have an idea. I jump off my bed and cross the room. My dresser drawer has exactly what I need. Without thinking twice about it, I grab a pair of scissors and slice through the bottom of my sweatshirt. Trystan looks at me like I’m crazy. He flinches, his hands lifting until he realizes what I’m doing. I cut off the front bottom half of the shirt. It reveals my rainbow bruises as if they were framed. The scrap of fabric falls to the floor. I put the sheers down and turn back to him. “Better?”

  Trystan grins. It makes those beautiful eyes sparkle like the sea in the afternoon sun. “Is there any other circumstance where you’d cut your clothes off like that? No? Are you sure.” He looks at the floor and then back up at my face. He finally answers, “Yes, it’s better.”

  I nod toward his towel. “Good, then drop it.”

  Trystan glances at me from the corner of his eye. He pulls the towel away. The angry marks around his neck look worse than last night. I try not to react. I lift my eyes to his. I step across the room and slip my arms around his waist. Trystan’s eyes lock on mine, but there’s something there, like he has to protect himself from me.

  My fingers trace the warm, smooth skin at his waist. I say softly, “We’re the same. You know that, right?”

  Trystan’s gaze remains locked with mine. He inhales sharply as my fingers move around to his back. There’s a small space between us, both physical and mental. “Mari, don’t...” It’s all he can manage. His jaw is tight, locked shut. The muscles in his neck are corded like he can barely swallow.

  I want him to relax, to feel safe for o
nce. My godforsaken parents won’t show up until dawn. There’s no one to hurt him here. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe he thinks that I’ll hurt him. My eyes lower. My gaze traces the curves of the muscles on his chest, but I’m not brave enough to lift my hand. My heart beats harder. I want him to understand. I feel the pull to him, like we’re two sides of the same coin. The fact that I’m shiny and he’s not doesn’t matter. We’re connected. We’re the same.

  I don’t look into his eyes again. I know what I want to do. Tugging his arm, I pull him toward my bed. I flick out the lights as I pass them. We’re encased in darkness. Trystan doesn’t move easily. It’s like he’s holding back. I finally say, “I just want to hold you. I want to sleep with your arms around me. No sex.”

  Trystan’s voice catches when he speaks, “Mari, I don’t know. I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret—”

  “I won’t regret this. I’ll never regret this.” I slip back on my bed, but he won’t sit. His eyes pierce through me like a sword.

  “You said this was something that was reserved for marriage.” He’s still looking at me. I smile softly. It turns out that all those times I scolded him for taking sex so lightly, he was listening. I almost wish he wasn’t. He runs his hands through his hair and looks at me. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want you to resent me. These aren’t whims with you. It’s part of who you are. I can’t do this to you.”

  I’m kneeling on the bed, looking at him. My eyes sweep over his face. He means well. Trystan wants to protect me. I understand, and I know he won’t change his mind. “You’re too good for me.”

  He laughs. It sounds so haunted and bitter that it kills me. “I doubt it. I heard I’m made of snails and puppy dog tails.” Trystan grins at me and winks, quickly covering the emotions that played across his face seconds ago.

  I lay back in my bed and he pulls up my blankets and tucks me in. Then, he settles on my floor at the foot of my bed. The clock ticks off the minutes, but I can’t sleep. My eyes are wide open. After what feels like forever, I say, “Trystan?”

  “Mmm?”

  My throat is tight. “How do you manage everything? I mean, no one has any idea and you never give the slightest indication that anything is wrong.

  “Some days I feel like I’m going to fall apart. You never seem weak like that. How do you do it? How do you brush off the fact that the people who are supposed to love you the most, don’t love you at all?” My lip is quivering. Although I’ve thought it, I never had the guts to say it before. “I know they don’t love me. I know they resent me, but I still can’t accept it. I keep hoping that one day they’ll really see me and love me for who I am, but that day never comes.”

  By the time I finish talking, I’m whispering. I don’t want to admit the words to anyone, but I do. As I speak, the words crush me. The bitter truth is that I feel guilty that my parents don’t love me. I feel like it’s my fault. For a long time, I thought that if I was better or smarter—I thought that I could earn their love—but it didn’t happen. Nothing changed. I stare at my ceiling without blinking. Thoughts stream from my head like rainwater down a gutter.

  Trystan sits up. He’s at the foot of my bed on the floor, looking up at me. His hair dried into that messy look he always wears. Pulling his knees into his chest, Trystan leans back against the side of my bed. “I think that’s the key—admitting that the day will never come. It’s the hardest part it. Hope just rips your heart apart with shit like this.

  “There is no hope. There is no peace. Accepting it makes it easier to wade through the day to day stuff. But, I’ve done a crappy job at hiding it lately. My old man locked me in my room the other day after tossing all my things. He does stuff like that from time to time. It’s supposed to remind me of my place. He says that over and over again, like it’s a lesson that I need to learn. I know my fucking place.”

  Trystan takes a deep breath and runs both hands over the back of his neck, stretching as he does it. “Tucker figured it out. For the past few weeks he’s been hinting, telling me it’s okay to talk to him, but they don’t get it. Dragging it out for everyone to see will just make it worse.

  And I’ve got no right, but it makes me mad. Where was Tucker ten years ago? Where was he five years ago? It would have made a difference then. It won’t do a goddamn thing now.” Trystan startles and looks over his shoulder. His eyes meet mine. He smiles, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”

  I shrug. “It needed to be said.”

  “How do you do that?” He stands and sits on the end of my bed.

  “Do what?”

  “How do you make me feel like this? I can be talking about the most horrible thing that ever happened to me, but with you here, the pain lessens. I feel like I’ll get through it and everything might be all right after all.”

  I smile at him. I don’t know what else to do. I’m lying back on my pillow. I cross my ankles under the blankets and tuck my hands behind my head. “That’s what you do for me. Maybe it’s magic. Maybe you’re my yang.”

  “Yang?” He gives me a weird look.

  “Yeah, like on a yin yang. We reflect each other, despite everything.” I watch him for a moment. His eyes are on mine. I pat the bed next to me and Trystan finally gives in. He crawls toward me and lays his head on my pillow. I turn on my side to look at him.

  Trystan kisses my lips lightly and sighs. A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Good night, beautiful girl.”

  CHAPTER 12

  ~TRYSTAN~

  A car door slams and jerks Trystan awake. Early morning sunlight pours through Mari’s windows. Trystan sits up and looks down at Mari, still asleep. That noise woke him up, made him jump. Call it conditioning from his father, but if Trystan didn’t jump up and grab his things that second, he would be thrown out the window.

  Trystan peeks out the bedroom door and sees Mari’s dad. He’s still wearing scrubs and is setting his things down on table in the hallway below. Panicked, Trystan doesn’t know what to do. He can’t sneak out. Her dad is blocking the way.

  Trystan goes back to Mari and wakes her gently, kissing her cheek. She smiles and stretches. “Trystan.” The way she says his name makes him reel, but he can’t afford to think like that. Not now. If Mari’s dad catches him, he’s dead.

  Whispering next her ear, he says, “Your dad is downstairs. I need to hide.”

  Before Trystan has a chance to say anything else, the sound of footfalls reaches their ears. Mari sits straight up in bed, her brown eyes wide like dinner plates. She points to the closet. Trystan takes his things and ducks inside and closes the door just before Mari’s dad enters the room.

  He bangs on the door and shouts, “Wake up, Mari. You’re going to be late.” He flicks on the lights and it fills the crack under the closet door. Trystan can hear him enter the room. His heart beats harder, faster. He pulls on his shoes and shirt without making a sound. Trystan feels like a coward hiding. He should run out and stand up to the man, but he can’t. He can’t even take care of himself. And getting found out won’t help either of them.

  “Mother said you apologized to Brie last night. I was glad to hear it. No more of this, Mari. Now get dressed for school. And mind your mother. She said no more tight clothes. Do as she asks. I don’t want to hear about my daughter looking like a street-walker ever again.” The door clicks shut and he’s gone.

  Trystan cracks the closet door open and looks at Mari. The life has been sucked out of her. Her shoulders are slumped and her skin is sallow. The color in her cheeks is gone. There’s no light in her eyes. He knows that look and wishes to God that he could take it away, but he can’t. Even if they were older, Trystan doesn’t have the money to save her from that man. Her dad crushed her just now and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Mari glances up at him. She blinks slowly and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You better go before Mom comes home and decides to go through my closet. You can climb down the trell
is like you wanted to the other day. Dad is headed for the shower. Wait a second for the water to turn on and then go. I’ll meet you in the basement at the school and fix up your neck.”

  Trystan doesn’t know why he does it, but he does. He can’t stand that flat listless voice. He can’t bear to watch Mari like this. He crosses to her bed and pushes her back into her pillows while pressing his lips to hers. They both have morning breath, but he doesn’t care. Trystan loves her. He wants her to be happy. He wants that smile on her face again. Trystan tangles his hands in her hair and lays on top of her, kissing her so hard that he can’t breathe.

  When he pulls back, she’s smiling shyly. It’s a perfectly Mari smile. “I love you,” he whispers and bounces off her bed and heads to the window. Mari touches her fingers to her lips like she’s dreaming.

  Trystan sneaks out before anything else can go wrong.

  CHAPTER 13

  ~MARI~

  When I’m done pulling on my jeans and tee shirt, I bend over to find my boots. I kicked them under my desk the other night. When I pull them out, I see a piece of paper caught between the desk and the wall. I reach for it, instantly knowing what it is—Trystan’s song. How’d it get on the floor? I go to pin it back in place, but decide that it shouldn’t be where anyone could get it. If my parents took the song or Brie managed to get her hands on it, that’d be bad. So I take it with me, stuffing it into my jeans pocket.

  I get to school early and head to find Trystan. The halls are empty. I pull open the basement door and run down the stairs. After that kiss this morning, I have a kiss of my own to give him. But when I reach the bottom of the landing, I freeze. He’s singing softly. His back is turned to me, like he doesn’t know I’m there. After a moment, he glances back at me and startles.