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Something was wrong.
It woke me from my sleep, again, only this time, I had Tristan in bed beside me.
Andhewas the “something wrong”.
Instead of his typical, peaceful state, his shoulders were tense. He was facing away from me, but I didn’t have to see his lips – I could hear his pained, unintelligible murmurs, knew his face was likely pulled into a frown, eyes still closed.
I said nothing, but put a hand against his bare shoulder, gently running my fingers over theHeightstattoo there. City buildings forming a circle, withThe Heightsscripted in the middle. He wasn’t the only one who had it, but he’d designed it – one of several designs the shop offered free to anyone who wanted it. Anyone who lived in the neighborhood, that is.
I squeezed his shoulder – not to wake him up, but more like… making sure he knew, even subconsciously, that he wasn’t alone.
If that mattered, or helped.
Maybe.
I immediately felt the difference when he woke up, but I didn’t move my hand. I waited for him to fully awake, turning to face me with a groggy, confused expression.
“You wanna talk about it?” I asked.
He blinked a few times, pushing his locs back from his face like he was considering it before finally, he shook his head. “Nah. I don’t want to be defined by what I left behind.”
I smirked over his recycling of my own words as he moved in closer to me under the covers, the feeling of his skin reminding me that neither of us hadanythingon. It struck me that he might’ve been trying to distract me so I wouldn’t press, but he didn’t have to – for one, because I wouldn’t dare not give him the same space I wanted for myself, from my past. Secondly… I felt like I could pretty much guess what was bothering him – what stayed at the fringes of his mind. From what Kiara described, Tristan had seen combat, which could fuck up anybody. My experience – my past – was different enough from his, yes, but… the death, the vigilance, the necessary grit… it all paralleled.
Wanting to let it stay where it was, instead of sullying the goodness and light that could be ahead of us?
That was something we had in common.
“What are your plans for today? What you got going on?” he asked, very casually, like he wasn’t gripping a handful of my ass as he spoke.
Like his dick wasn’t hard and distracting against my pelvis.
“Well, Anika recommended a stylist to me, so I’m going to get a much-needed trim, and deep conditioner, all that,” I told him, snaking a hand between us. “And then I’m gonna make some candles. You?”
His eyes closed, a moan slipping from his throat as my fingers closed around his dick. “Uh… shit. Um. My mother is coming up, gonna stay a few days – in a hotel. Kiara’s birthday is this coming weekend, remember? We’re going get the grill going at the park, a couple deep fryers…”
“Yes, I remember you mentioning it.”
“Right. So you’ll be there?”
My eyes went wide and my hand stopped, putting immediate brakes on the slow stroking motion I’d started. “What?”
His lids lifted, gaze meeting mine. “Did I say something confusing?”
“Confusing, no. Surprising, yes.”
“It’s surprising that because you’re in my life, I would want you to be part of celebrating my child?”
“I just… didn’t think we werethereyet.”
Tristan’s lips curved into a smile. “You’ve met Kiara. She likes you – spy conspiracy theory and all. I don’t understand what exactly we’d be waiting on.”
I started to object, but… I really couldn’t find a rebuttal for that. He was right – we’d already met, however inadvertently. Not to mention the wholeslice a nigga in the streetincident I was still figuring out who I needed to talk to about.
“Your mother, though,” I said. “And presumably Von is gonna be there – she hates me.”
“She definitely doesn’t,” Tristan laughed. “And my mother willloveyou.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
