“Over the next few breaths, start to become aware of the room around you.”
Sam.
I reach for the sound of his voice and the memory dissolves around me. I’m back in the studio, being guided through the end of the meditation. Apparently, I missed most of it, too lost in my own darkness to notice the passage of time.
“When you’re ready, open your eyes.”
My eyes blink open. Moisture clings to my lashes and I swipe at my wet cheeks. I keep my head lowered as the other students begin to move. When they’re gone, Sam comes to sit in front of me. Cross-legged. Quiet. Giving me the space to share if I want to, and hold on to my privacy if I don’t.
“I expected to see Claire,” I tell him.
He nods. “Who did you see instead?”
“My mother.” I tell him about the day I realised my mother didn’t love me anymore. The despair I’d felt, right before a heavy acceptance settled inside my chest. “The weight, I can still feel it.”
His reaches out, placing a hand flat over my heart. “Part of your burden.”
“It’s been years since I’ve thought about that day. I don’t know why. Maybe it hurts too much.” Shame flares deep in my gut. “How selfish is that? How can anything hurt more than Claire’s death?”
“There’s no less than or greater than, Tristan. It’s a different kind of pain. That’s all.”
“What does it matter in the end?” I ask him. “My parents can never love me again. How can anyone?”
“I love you.” The words leave Sam’s mouth without the slightest hint of hesitation. They hang there, taking up space between us.
Frowning, I shake my head. “No, that’s not—”
“Possible?” His smile is tremulous as his fingers knot together. “I assure you, it is. I’ve been in love with you for a while now so…” He licks his lips as his gaze falls away. “Now you know.”
TWENTY-ONE
______
SAM
I never imagined I’d end up confessing my love for Tristan on a whim. It’s a big deal, telling someone you love them for the first time. Especially when you’ve never said those words to anyone before. I would have preferred to wait for Tristan to say it first—in case he never did. But after listening to him talk about his mother, I figure he needs to hear it.
So, I said it. Now here we are, with the awkwardness and the silence. Not exactly the stuff dreams are made of.
“You don’t have to say it back or anything.” Which in itself sounds like a request for him to do exactly that, but I don’t know how else to react to his non-reaction. “I just wanted you to know how I—”
“Stop.” He scrambles upright and heads for the shelves to retrieve his backpack. Slinging it over one shoulder, he turns on his heel. “I have to go.”
The sinking of my heart clashes with a rising anger as I get to my feet. This is my first declaration of love, and I honestly have no idea if there’ll ever be another. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him ruin it for me. “I’m not going to stop,” I call out as he reaches the closed studio door. “I won’t even try.”
Tristan stops dead, tension radiating from the long lines of his body.
“Whether you want it or not. Whether you deserve it or not. Whether you love me back… or not.” My voice cracks on those last words, but I keep going. I have to get it all out now, in case I never see him again. “My love is yours.”
The backpack hits the floor as he turns to rush at me. I barely have time to draw a breath before he grabs the front of my shirt and hauls me against him. “Take it back,” he snarls.
“No.” I grit my teeth against the riot. Quaking limbs, crashing heart, sweat and panting and a voice that barely functions. “I love you. There’s no going back. It’s done.”
He backs me up against the wall, his hips fitting themselves to mine even as his eyes spit fire and fury. “I never asked for your love.”
“You didn’t have to.” I wrap my fingers around his wrists, my body restless against his. This show of aggression shouldn’t be a turn on for me but, apparently, it really is. I lick my lips and Tristan swears under his breath, his jaw clenching. “You don’t get a choice in this,” I tell him. “My heart is mine to give and I decide who to give it to.” The rush of blood through my veins is deafening and I’m lightheaded beneath the force of his glare. “I choose you, Tristan. I love you.”
His eyelids flutter closed and the grip of his fingers eases as he rests his forehead against mine. “It’s wrong. Don’t you understand? Claire doesn’t get to be loved by a man. She doesn’t get to choose who to give her heart to. I took all that away from her. How can I go around loving people and being loved when she’s dead in the ground because of my foolishness? It’s not fair to her.” He lifts his head to meet my gaze with a steely resolve. “If she doesn’t get to live her life, I don’t deserve to live mine.”
