I’m still floating above consciousness when I distantly feel the warmth leaving my back. I frown in my sleep, not wanting to wake up but already missing the comfort that heat provided.
Just as I’m about to slip back into dreamland, I feel the ghost of fingertips brush along my cheek. They’re gone so quickly that I’m not even sure they were really there. I curl back into my pillow and fall back to a deep sleep.
By the time I wake a few hours later, the sun is high in the sky and shining light directly through my wall of windows. I blink my eyes open sleepily.
I stretch my arms over my head with a smile. I notice the small ache between my legs with satisfaction.
At the reminder of last night, the smile freezes on my face. I look behind me to confirm what I already know: Tristan is gone.
I sit up with a frown. It’s Sunday morning, where would he have to go?
Then another thought pops in my head that instantly makes my heart drop into my stomach.
This is the second time he’s bolted from a bed that I’m in.
I didn’t question the night we spent together in his room because it was a weekday and I know he has really early sessions with some of his clients that want to workout before they head to work. But on a Sunday morning? I doubt anyone is working out.
Is he avoiding me?
Last night changed something for both of us. I should’ve already realized my feelings for him were growing but everything happened so fast that I wasn’t sure until last night. I don’t know what that actually means for us, but I do know that I want to try for something with Tristan. I’m not sure where he stands with his feelings but last night proved that he at least cares about me. The sex was too emotional for it to just be sex. I could see in his eyes that he felt something.
Except, I am currently naked and alone for the second morning after sex. Am I reading too much into last night? Did I scare him away?
The sound of my phone vibrating snaps me from my thoughts. I walk over to where I dropped it on the kitchen counter last night and see that Jax is calling. My mood immediately lifts at the thought of my best friend coming home today.
I answer the phone with a grin. ‘How hungover are you right now?’ I ask by way of greeting.
A heavy groan sounds on the other end of the line. ‘You know me way too fucking well. I don’t want to see another drink for the rest of my time at this job. Remy, I really feel like I’m dying.’
I shake my head with a chuckle. Leave it to the massive 230 pound alpha to be a total baby about a little headache. ‘What time do you get in?’ I ask Jax.
‘I’m on my Chicago layover now so I should be home around 11:00. When I get home, I thought you, me, and Tristan could do lunch and I can squash any remaining feuding between you two that might’ve brewed this week. By the way, is the house still standing?’
My eyes widen and my breath catches when I realize I never thought about how this thing between Tristan and I might affect Jax. Should I tell him the truth? Will he be angry?
To be fair, Jax has only ever wanted Hailey and I to be happy. It’s the reason he keeps his mouth shut about Steve. He sees that Hailey is happy—albeit confused—and he doesn’t want to blow something up just because he knows Steve is a dipshit. He’ll support anyone that brings us happiness.
But at the same time, I’m not even sure where Tristan and I stand.
I make a split-second decision to tell a white lie, just until there’s something more to actually tell. Which, given Tristan’s vanishing act and radio silence, might never happen.
‘Yes, the house is still standing, and yes I will withstand Tristan for you. He’s already survived ten days, what’s another hour?’
‘Good,’ Jax grunts. ‘In that case I’ll see you in a few hours. I’m going to go puke in a trashcan now.’
I’m still shaking my head when I hang up. But when I finally look down at my phone screen, I see I have a text notification.
Tristan: I had to leave early to help a friend move this morning and I didn’t want to wake you. I was almost late, though. I couldn’t stop staring at you. Who knew you’re so cute when you’re not yelling at me.
A huge smile breaks across my face. He didn’t run from me. He wanted to stay with me.
Remy: Might want to figure that out before Jax gets home today. He might not appreciate you ogling his sister.
His reply comes almost immediately, which sends another burst of happiness through my chest.
Tristan: No promises. When you’re yelling, all I can think about is how much I want to bend you over and hear you make that breathy little sound right before you come all over my cock.
A shiver runs through me at his erotic words. Who knew Tristan was so dirty? I quickly type my response.
Remy: Focus. Jax gets home at 11 so he wants to do lunch with us. Will you be home?
I ignore the part of me that beams at the domesticated sound of that question. As if you’re the darling wife welcoming your hard-working husband home with dinner and sex.
I shake the thoughts from my head. We are getting way too ahead of ourselves…
Tristan: Yea I’ll be home. I’ll see your sweet ass then.
I can’t keep the ridiculous smile off my face for the rest of the morning.
I sing softly to myself as I pack the last few things into my suitcase, a smile playing on my lips. My heart feels light, and happy.
I hear voices drift upstairs from the living room. Realizing Jax must be back, I pack away the sweatshirt I’m holding and head toward the stairs to greet him. I smile at the thought of seeing my best friend again.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I realize they’re talking about me. And even though I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, I can’t help but stop and listen. God knows I can’t get Tristan to talk to me, so this may be the only way I can hear what he’s thinking.
‘…glad to hear you two didn’t kill each other. How was it with her?’
‘You know, the usual,’ I hear Tristan answer. ‘Bitchy as fuck.’
I roll my eyes even though his answer stings a little bit. It’s odd to think that he answered the same exact way he would have before I moved in, yet now I’m bothered by the response.
I hear Jax chuckle. ‘Obviously. Where is she now?”
“I think she took some more of her stuff over to the new apartment.”
“Ah, okay. Oh, by the way, I meant to ask you if you’re still seeing that girl, Dana. I was hoping you could set me up with her friend. The redhead?’
‘Oh,’ says Tristan, and I hold my breath as I wait for his response. ‘Yeah, I still see her sometimes. I’ll set it up.’
My breath whooshes from my chest. He’s still seeing someone else? Could he have seen her in the past week, or is he talking in general terms?
‘Cool, thanks man,’ Jax responds. ‘You’ve been seeing her for a while, right? Is it anything serious?’
‘Nah, not serious,’ I hear Tristan say with a chuckle. ‘You know me, I can’t do serious. She’s just one of many. I’m still just seeing what’s out there and having fun. I doubt any girl would be able to hold my attention.’
His words slide a blade into my heart. I grip the banister as my head starts to spin.
He’s seeing other women? How could he possibly experience the kind of chemistry we have, and then turn around and look for it somewhere else? What else is he looking for?
I knew from the beginning that he wasn’t the relationship type but after everything that happened, I thought he would at least lose interest in looking elsewhere. I thought he might be willing to take a chance with me. I thought we felt the same thing last night. I thought…
I shake my head, trying to clear the tears that are threatening to spill from my eyes. I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to my gut when I first felt my feelings grow. I should’ve reminded myself that Tristan is not a one-woman man. I knew better than to get attached, and I let myself fall anyway. I can’t even really blame him, either. I knew exactly who he was when this all started.
I try to think of the signs that made it seem like he had become interested in me.
And then fight the urge to vomit when I realize all of them—every action, every glance, every word—happened either before or during sex. Even asking me to sleep in his bed could’ve just been so he would have someone to fuck in the morning.
I’ve never really had a fuck buddy or a one night stand so I have no idea what guys might say when they just want to get laid—no idea what lies they might tell to keep a girl coming back to their bed. Right now, it feels like everything Tristan said must’ve just been a part of his act to get me into bed. That must be his game with women: to make them feel loved and wanted in order to make them interested.
And I played right into it.
I’ve never been one to believe in ‘making love’ but I never thought to treat the words spoken during sex as anything but truth. I didn’t expect him to fall in love with me just from having sex, but I don’t understand how he could say those things—how he could touch me adoringly, how he could kiss me so softly—without meaning it. How could someone lie that well?
I close my eyes, the tears finally spilling down my cheeks. My grip on the banister is so hard that my hands begin to ache, but even that pain doesn’t register compared to what’s warring inside me. A quiet, broken sob tears from my throat as my heart surrenders to the pain.
I never should have expected Tristan to be anything more than what he is. And I definitely shouldn’t have let myself get attached to him, especially so quickly. I should have listened to the part of my brain that knew this would happen. The worst part about this is the fact that this pain is my own fault.
After a few ragged breaths I realize I need to get out of this house. I need to get as far away from Tristan as I can. Even though part of me wants to cling to him and convince him that we mesh perfectly, that he doesn’t need to look anywhere else and that he should give us a chance, I also know that I will never be the girl that begs a guy to be with her. I have never understood how women could chase men. Why would I want to be with someone that doesn’t want to be with me?
And Tristan clearly doesn’t. If he’s still thinking about other women and treating us like we won’t last, then he’s sure as fuck not interested in being with me in a way that matters. And his feelings clearly aren’t even close to the depth that mine are. If I continue down this path with him, I’m only going to end up in more pain than I feel even now. I need to end this thing between us and get as far away from Tristan as I can.
I hastily brush the tears from my cheeks and stride back to Jax’s bedroom. I stuff the last of my clothes in the half-filled box and tape it shut. Before I grab it to take downstairs, I take a quick look at myself in the mirror—and immediately wince at how I look.
My face is white as a sheet and my pink-rimmed eyes clearly show that I’ve been crying. I dig frantically through my bag for the concealer I rarely use, then apply it quickly to my under eyes. It hides any proof of my tears, but my face still looks like I’ve seen a ghost. I slap and pinch my cheeks to bring some pink into them.
Good enough. I only need to look normal long enough to rush out of here.
I grab the box and head for the stairs. By the time I reach the landing I realize that Jax is nowhere to be found, and Tristan is the only one sitting in the living room.
A warm smile lights up his face when he sees me. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here. Why didn’t you come grab me? I would’ve helped carry these.” He stands from the couch and walks over to grab the box out of my hands.
I twist so he can’t take it from me. ‘It’s okay, I got it,’ I blurt out hastily. A flash of confusion appears on his face but disappears as quickly as it came. A small frown takes its place.
‘Where’s Jax?’ I ask, refusing eye contact.
‘He wanted to run out and grab some groceries,’ Tristan answers. ‘He said he wants to do a home-cooked lunch when he gets back.’
‘Oh, I was actually going to head out. I want to unpack and get settled and I don’t want to take up your guys’ space anymore,’ I babble. I glance nervously between the door and the box in my hands, wanting desperately to walk out of this conversation. ‘Just tell Jax I’ll see him later.’
Before I can move toward the door, Tristan’s fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look at him. My eyes finally meet his and I see that they’re flashing with anger. The frown on his face has deepened.
‘What is going on with you?’ he growls. ‘Why are you freaking out right now?’
I rip my face from his hands and glare at him. ‘I’m not freaking out,’ I snap. ‘I just want to go home. Ten days is a long time to look at your ugly face and I’m eager to get out of here.’
I realize suddenly that my anger is actually making it easier to deal with the pain. So, I stand a little straighter and look directly at Tristan. ‘Although I guess we knew that nothing good would come of us being cooped up together. Maybe fucking was our way of not killing each other.’
I’m being harsh. I know I’m being harsh. But the blade that sliced through me only a few minutes ago has evoked a fight or flight response, and I can’t help the frantic fight that’s coming out of me.
I study him closely, debating for only a moment if I want to put the nail in the coffin of my heartbroken tirade. When I see the shock and hurt flash across his face I almost don’t—but then decide that it’s either him or me, and he’s already made his choice.
‘Thanks for the dick,’ I sneer. ‘It’s been fun, but I think we’re done here.’
Without waiting for his answer, I stride down the hall and through the front door.
