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I’d never seen that look on anyone’s face before.
The quietness was deafening, stirring me to ask, “You live with your grandfather?”
His eyes locked with mine as I sat in front of him on my bed.
“I have since my parents died.”
“And when was that?”
He winced, it was quick, but I saw it.
“Never mind, we don’t have to tal—”
“I was six.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Tristian. You were just a little boy.”
“It made me a man.”
“No one should have to go through that. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if something happened to my parents.”
“You learn to adapt.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
He thought about it for a second. I didn’t think he’d reply, so when he looked away, I felt as if he was reliving it all over again.
“It’s my first memory…”
My mouth parted, hanging on by a thread.
“Watching them die in front of me.”
I sucked in a breath, feeling his response in the pit of my stomach. My heart immediately ached for him.
“He had all kinds of different bikes. It was his addiction. He collected them.”
“The bikes that you’re riding. Are they his?”
“Yeah. It was the only possessions of his that my grandfather kept. He knew how much they meant to him.”
Chalk it up to hormones, or maybe it was me desperately wanting to form a connection with him. In that second, sitting in front of him, it felt like I was the first person he’d shared this with. He’d exposed a side to him that no one knew existed, possibly not even him.
It seemed like he needed to get out whatever was weighing on him. His body shifted around as he abruptly looked deep into my eyes and searched for something I couldn’t place. The only thing I could see was a war raging in his stare. An internal battle was taking place of what was right and what was wrong. It was sitting directly in front of him this whole time.
Me.
The serious expression on his face captivated me in a way I had never experienced before, which only added to the plaguing emotions that were wreaking havoc between us.
I waited on pins and needles, desperately wanting to know what happened to them.
He didn’t make me wait too long, divulging, “The only thing I remember before the crash was watching them ride off into the sunset. My mom was on the back of my dad’s street bike while I was in the car behind them. The chauffeur was driving me as we followed them. It started raining, pouring like it was tonight. I don’t know how long we drove in the storm because it all happened so fast. One minute they were in front of us, the next my dad lost control of his bike. I blinked, and the bike flipped three times until it finally stopped.”
I didn’t move.
I was barely breathing.
Not wanting to distract him from sharing this with me.
