The silence waits for me. Sam waits for me.
He’ll never understand if I don’t say it.
“He said I was looking for a way out. That I was walking around with a death wish, as if it would be okay as long as I didn’t go by my own hand.” My body shakes and Sam’s limbs wrap around me. My heart is numb, my eyes dry, but fear claws at my chest. “The instant he said it I knew it was true and I was so scared. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted it all to stop. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing what I’d done. I didn’t know how.”
“You found a way,” Sam croons, close to my ear. “You’re still here, safe, with me.”
“No.” I shake my head in denial. “I didn’t find a way, he gave me one. My father demanded a promise from me that night. One that could never be undone and never be broken.”
Sam stares at me, wide eyes fixed on my face. “What did he want?”
“My life,” I tell him. “He said I’d lost the right to it the night Claire died. That I owed a life to him and my mother, and I would pay my debt in years lived.” It sounds so strange when I say it out loud. But at the time, it was a lifeline, a hand reaching out to pull me from the ocean before the water closed over my head. “He demanded my life, and I gave it to him.”
I’m still not sure I would have made it this far if he hadn’t taken the choice away from me.
“So, here I am. Doing what I’m told. Paying my penance. Taking care of the life that no longer belongs to me, all to satisfy a debt I can never truly repay.”
Something trickles the length of my arm and I glance down. Sam is crying, his tears falling onto my bare skin. “I’m sorry,” I whisper hoarsely, sliding an arm around his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
A rough, watery laugh bursts out of him. “Please, don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, brushing a warm kiss against my cheek. “I’m glad you told me. But I’m sad for what you’ve had to go through. What you still go through.”
“It’s fucked up, I know. I’m the one who fucked it up.” I drop my head back and it thunks lightly against the side of the kitchen counter. When the hell did we end up on the floor? “You can run away screaming if you’d like. I’ll understand.”
Taking my head between his hands, Sam turns my face until I’m looking at him. “I will never run from you, Tris,” he whispers. “I don’t care how hard it is or how messed up we are. I want to be with you.”
Gratitude seeps into my limbs as I pull him closer. “I want you, too. You have no idea how much.” I wish we could stay like this forever, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, caring for each other’s darkness.
Surely, my father will see. Being with Sam is good for me. He makes my life better, he makes my past easier to bear. I’m not sure I should be allowed such peace. But I do know this: I don’t want to let him go.
NINETEEN
______
SAM
A naked Tristan is a beautiful thing. Especially when he’s delivering lazy, open-mouthed kisses to my already sated body. His fingertips drift across my skin, brushing a ticklish spot, and I flinch.
He murmurs an apology, but his lips curve into a smile as his teeth graze the jut of my hipbone. “Let me kiss it better.” His tongue trails up towards the offended area and I inhale as I arch into his touch.
That’s the instant my stomach chooses to let loose a mood-killing growl. We both go still and then Tristan chuckles softly. “Somebody’s hungry.”
Covering my face with my hands, I groan in embarrassment. “Apparently so.”
“Guess we’ll have to feed you.” He bends to kiss the crown of my semi-erect penis before rising from the bed.
I quickly scoot up onto my knees at the edge of the mattress. “We could always eat after,” I say, stroking my length with a firm hand. Yes, I missed lunch today and I’m hungry. But my desire for Tristan takes precedence over an empty stomach any day. “Things were getting interesting—again.”
Eying off my obvious arousal, Tristan drops his pants and comes over to me. One hand latches on to the side of my neck, while the other reaches for my hip, pulling me against him. He licks his way into my mouth and I sigh in contentment. Definitely better than food.
My stomach growls again—loudly. With an appalled groan, I drop my head onto Tristan’s shoulder, but he’s shaking with laughter and I have to lift it again.
“This is not funny,” I grouse.
“It is a little funny.” Reaching down, he swats me on the backside. “Come on, get dressed. I want to take you out.”
“To dinner?” I ask, my eyebrows lifting. “Right now?”
He buttons his pants before meeting my gaze. “To dinner. Right now.” Tilting his head to one side, he gives me an uncertain look. “Is that okay?”
