Black Heart
Page 7

Then there was driving home while begging her car not to die on her until she made it home. Someone up there must love her because the car didn’t die until she reached the driveway. She already knew the car was gone. The mechanic told her the next time the engine died that was it. To top off her day, she locked herself out of the house when she went to get the mail. Now, she wasn’t sure if seeing him after all these years was a good or bad point in her day.
He raised a brow expectantly. Apparently he desired more details. Things really hadn’t changed that much after all. He’d always wanted her to talk, more like demanded it. She could still remember when she was four years old following after him wherever he went, talking a mile a minute about anything and everything while he simply nodded.
She knew that he wasn’t nodding out of politeness or a way to placate a young child. Any time she stopped speaking he would stop whatever he was doing and look at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She learned very early on that he hated complete silence. If she wasn’t speaking, he covered the silence with music or television for background noise. She missed those times with him.
Not once had he told her to go away or lost his patience with her. Even when his friends were around, she’d always been welcomed. He was her hero, the one she went to when she skinned her knees and the one she yelled for whenever she got stuck up in a tree. He always came for her. Always. He would quietly take care of her before placing a gentle kiss on her boo-boo.
Even as they grew older and he hit his teenage years, he was there for her. By then the connection that she’d felt with him had developed into a bit of a crush. He was handsome, quiet and easy going, well as long you didn’t get on his bad side. There hadn’t been a time when girls weren’t trying to hang off him, but he never seemed to notice them, never really seemed to care.
During her freshmen year in high school she remembered sitting back and watching as girls competed for his attention. He dated a few of them, once or twice, but never anything serious. He didn’t want any type of relationship and, from what she’d heard from Beth and Tom, he still didn’t.
Things had been very difficult for her when they started drifting apart. Even though he’d still lived across the street from her while he’d gone to college, their relationship was never the same. Eventually they became virtual strangers except for the occasional run in. It was weird sitting on his bed in his childhood room being asked to talk once again.
“I heard you’re working on your thesis this semester,” he said, the soft baritones of his voice managed to pull her out of her daze and back into a situation that would only end with her crying into her pillow later tonight.
*-*-*-*
He wanted her to talk, needed it badly. He was surprised how much it pained him to see her in his old room, sitting on his bed again. After all these years, he thought he'd grown immune to her and this goddamn connection that he felt with her. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, distancing himself from her and not a day went by that he didn’t think about her, but it was because he cared about her that he did it. He couldn’t drag her into his hell. Nobody deserved that, least of all her.
Over the years he’d told himself that as long as she was able to have a long happy life that’s all that mattered. Nothing on this earth would make him happier than knowing that Marty was safe, happy, and living the life that she deserved. As much as it pained him, he knew that he didn’t deserve to be in her life. She deserved more than a freak, and he would make sure that she got it, but for now he just wanted to sit here and listen to the soothing tones of her voice. Just one last time. That’s all it would be, he inwardly swore to himself and to her. Then he would once again walk away.
*-*-*-*
The problem was that she didn’t feel like talking about herself. For once she wanted to hear about him. She was sick of finding out everything about him from her father and friends. It was never enough to tell her the one thing that would make this distance tolerable. She wanted to know if he was happy.
Her eyes darted around the room, hoping to stumble upon something that would get him to talk. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked out the window towards her house, quickly coming up with something that she hoped would have him talking for a little while.
“How do you like your new house?” she asked, hoping that she didn’t sound too eager. Please don’t let her sound pathetic.
Tristan leaned against the side of the large chair as he eyed her pile of books. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and pressed two fingers to the side of his temple, making his bicep bulge. Marty forced herself to look away from all that muscle and ignore the unbelievably sexy pose he was striking.
“Too big,” he said, sounding annoyed.
She nodded in agreement even as she bit back a smile. Truth was, the old Thompson place was the biggest house in Stanton. Over the past few years, only large families and a few residential programs had showed any interest in that house. She was surprised when she’d heard that he’d bought it. It was ridiculously large for a bachelor.
“Why did you buy it? If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, hoping to encourage him to continue talking.
He looked away before he muttered, “I couldn’t beat the price.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed even to herself. Had she really expected him to say that he’d bought the house because he wanted to be closer to her? She really was pathetic. They hadn’t spoken in years and here she was harboring fantasies that he missed her, even cared about her.
“I’d rather own my own home than deal with a possible rent hike or pain in the ass tenants and landlords.”
She nodded absently as she thumbed through her notebook. “That’s why I decided not to live at the dorm.”
“Yeah, dorm life can be pretty hectic,” he said distractedly.
Marty looked up at him and frowned. His jaw was clenched tightly shut and he seemed to be averting his eyes to the left. His posture had gone from sexy to ramrod stiff in the short time since she’d looked away from him. The backs of his knuckles were bleached bone white against the dark tan skin covering his now clenched hands.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned that his shoulder was troubling him.
“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ve gotta go.”
He stood up, moving slightly to the left as if he were avoiding something in front of him even though there was nothing even remotely close to him and headed for the door. She noted that his eyes were still avoiding looking anywhere to the left.
“O-okay, I guess I’ll see you around then,” she said, frowning as he practically stormed out of the room. A minute later she climbed off the bed to watch him walk across the street. Whatever they were giving him for pain wasn’t enough, she thought as she watched him walk stiffly towards his house.
Chapter 3
Tristan could feel several pairs of eyes watching him as he walked across the street. He knew without looking back that his mother was undoubtedly watching him as she tsked at him.
He had no idea what the woman wanted from him, never had. Truth was he loved her, more than he’d ever loved his birth mother. For as long as he could remember, he tried not to love her or even like her. He did his damndest to keep his new parents and older brother at a distance, but slowly they’d managed to make him love and accept them. Problem was that it felt wrong. He was a freak, a mistake. He used to feel like he was tricking them into loving him. Now he loved them more than anything and couldn’t imagine a life without them, which made him more careful around them. If they ever found out…..