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I didn’t need to turn over his wrist to know about the scars. Tris was a cutter all through middle school and a delinquent through high school. He’d done a lot to inflict harm on himself, including running with a really rough crowd. He’d gotten into a lot of shit, even spending a few months in juvie for theft. But he’d moved down to Seattle to get away from those guys and escape a home filled with drugs, alcohol, and violence. He’d gotten into personal training and therapy to fix what he hated about himself, which was pretty much everything.
He sighed. “I don’t know hownotto wreck everything, Zel. You were good at that.”
“At what?” I poured hydrogen peroxide over his split knuckles.
“Making me face my bullshit. You’ve been doing that since we were kids.” He caught my gaze. “You know that’s why I always admired you?”
“And you showed that admiration by giving me shit every day at school?”
“I never claimed to be the smart one.” He cocked his head, his damp blond bangs falling to the side. “That’s always been you.”
I put down the bottle. “Stop. If you’re trying to get back into my good graces, you have a long road ahead of you.”
“I know, I-I just feel like I’ve screwed up the best friendship I’ve ever had.” He was scrambling to explain. “And, I don’t want you to hate me, Zel. I just,” he grimaced again, “I just don’t know how to be happy. It’s like I can’t have anything nice or good in my life. If it lasts too long, I kill it. Every. Fucking. Time.”
I blotted his knuckles. “They might be broken. Have you considered getting an x-ray?”
“No, that never crossed my mind. ’Cause I’m an idiot.” He sniffed. “I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Being self-destructiveisidiotic.” I searched through the first aid kit for the bandages shaped for knuckles.
“You always call me on my bullshit. You’ve been doing that since first grade.”
I found two of the bandages I wanted. “I can’t fix your problems, Tristan.” I met his gaze. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah. And you shouldn’t have to. FYI, I’m not a complete moron, I called Dr. Stoneman.”
“Really?” Stoneman was his therapist. “Good. Do you have an appointment?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow morning. He fit me in.”
I tore open the paper around the first bandage. “I’m glad you’re taking care of your mental shit again.”
“I thought you’d be happy. You were always after me to take my meds and see Stoneman.” He caught my hand. “I know I haven’t shown it, but I’ve been thinking, and I’m actually glad you’re with Aithan.”
My eyes widened. “You are?”
“He’s a good guy. He’ll take care of you and treat you well.” He took a bandage. “Fuck. I don’t know why I’m such an asshole to you.”
“Maybe because I fight back.”
“Yeah, you’re fiery.” He smiled, though it was sad. “That’s my favorite thing about you.”
“Not my deep throat?”
He groaned, and not in a happy way. “God, I am such a douche canoe.” He covered his face with his hands.
“I’m sorry.” I pulled his hands down.
“What?” He stared at me. “Don’t apologize, not tome. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He pulled a face and applied the bandage to the back of his hand. “I was a shitty boyfriend for you, and I definitely deserve every smack you’ve got with my name on it.”
I nodded and gave him the other bandage. “You really do.”
Lulu wandered into the kitchen. She jumped onto the counter and head-butted him.
“Hey, little cat.” Tristan scratched her ears while she buzzed contentedly. “I miss these guys.”
I capped the peroxide and put the bandages back.
