Black Heart (5 page)

lifetime.

“That’s fine,” his mother said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and giving in a little too

easily, instantly putting him on alert.

As Tristan pulled away, his gaze automatically shot across the street, looking for a beat

up old yellow Volkswagen that belonged to the woman that he forced himself to pretend

didn’t exist. It was there in the driveway. His heart sped up before he could force himself to

look away.

“That reminds me, sweetie. Marty accidentally locked herself out. I told her that she

could study in your old room until Hank came home. Why don’t you go upstairs and say

hello? It’s been a while since you saw each other.”

“I guess I could do that,” he said, telling himself that it was okay, that it wouldn’t kill him

to allow himself a moment with her, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed her, craved

her and, although he’d never understood it, right now he didn’t want to fight it. Right now

he was going to be a selfish bastard and steal a few moments with the woman who deserved

better.

His mother smoothed down the collar of his shirt while he struggled against doing the

right thing and walking away. “Well, you both moved on since high school and, by the time

she’d started college, you were already finished and starting the academy. Sometimes it’s

difficult to keep in touch.”

“I know, but I should go say hello. Her dad is my boss after all and I haven’t had a

chance to say hello to her since I moved back into the neighborhood,” he said, bullshitting

them or himself, he really didn’t give a damn.

“Tell her that dinner will be in two hours when Denny gets here.”

“Sure thing,” Tristan said as he walked towards the house, slowing his pace on the off

chance that he’d change his mind like the thousand other times before and simply walk

away from her.

As he took the front steps two at a time, he realized that something about this time was

different.

There would be no turning away this time.

-
-
-

Tristan jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time, but somehow managed to force

himself to slow down before he reached his old room. The door was open and he could see

Marty sitting on his childhood bed among a pile of books, reading. He stepped into the

room and leaned back against the doorframe, content to watch her for a few minutes until

even that wasn’t enough, until he needed more than just to watch her from a distance.

“Hey, Marty,” he said quietly when he knew that he should have just walked away.

Startled, Marty let out an adorable squeal as she jumped back. Unfortunately the

movement caused her to tilt to the side and fall off the bed. Cursing, he shoved away from

the doorframe. His long strides quickly ate up the distance. Before she managed to hit the

floor, he was there. He scooped her up into his arms, forcing himself to ignore just how

good it felt to touch her, and quickly placed her safely back on the bed. Once she was

settled in the middle of the small twin bed, he dropped his hands away from her as if the

contact burned him, because it did, and stepped away.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she pushed her long brown hair out of her face.

“No problem,” he said gruffly, moving away from the bed, hoping to put more distance

between them so that he didn’t do something that he’d truly regret later. He moved to the

other side of the room and dropped his large frame onto the oversized chair that his father

had stuffed in the room a few years ago to keep it from ending up in a yard sale, hoping

that he wouldn’t regret doing this later.

-
-
-

Marty nervously tapped a pen on her notebook as she frantically searched for something

to say to the man that used to be her entire world. “I got locked out,” she blurted, most

likely sounding like an idiot.

He gave her a barely there smile. “I heard.”

Not knowing what else to do and in no mood to make an ass out of herself, she began

collecting her books. “I must be in your way. I’ll go downstairs and sit at the table.”

She had absolutely no idea how to talk or act around him anymore. It had been years

since they’d spent any real time together. Once he’d started college, leaving her behind in

high school, they’d quickly become strangers.

Now the only time she saw him was when she stopped by the police station, he came

home to visit his parents, or she drove past his house and he was outside. Even then it was

only polite nods and greetings. Well, except for that one time when he’d pulled her over for

speeding. She was positive that he’d been amused when he gave her that speeding ticket,

but she couldn’t tell with him anymore. He’d always acted like ice. Nothing could penetrate

his cool exterior. Earning a true smile or laugh from him was like winning the lottery.

She inwardly sighed.

She really missed his laugh.

She really missed him.

“No, please stay. You’re not in my way,” he said softly. “Mom wanted me to tell you

that dinner will be done in two hours.”

When she hesitated, he continued. “I also wanted to say hello. It’s been a while since

we’ve talked,” he explained as he ran a hand absently over his shoulder. Her eyes followed

the movement.

“I heard about what happened. I’m sorry. That must have been awful,” she said, relieved

that she managed to talk about one of the worst nights of her life without crying.

She knew that he wouldn’t appreciate it, especially since he had no idea that she’d spent

the entire night after he’d had emergency surgery holding his hand in ICU, crying and

praying that he got another chance. She’d been too afraid to ask for more than Tristan

pulling through the night, terrified that it would be asking too much and that she’d lose him,

but now…..

Now she wished that she’d asked for more.

From the moment that she saw him sitting in Tom and Beth’s living room the day they’d

picked him up from foster care, she’d felt connected to him. It wasn’t something she’d ever

admitted to anyone, not even to Tristan when they were kids and he was her world. It was

so strange, still was, but from that moment when she saw him, she’d felt a deep connection

with him. Still did even if they hadn’t really spoken in years. It was strange and horrible at

the same time.

She wished that she didn’t feel this way about him. She hated this draw to him, couldn’t

explain it, and most days she fought against the heartache that being separated from him

caused. She’d never hated this strange connection to him more than the day that she got the

call from her father and was told that Tristan had been shot and might not make it through

the night. Hated it because the impending loss felt powerful, too powerful and so damn

familiar. It felt like she’d gone through it a hundred times before and one more time would

have been one too many.

He merely shrugged off her comments. “It’s over.” Most men that she knew, including

her father, would have taken that as a cue to tell her all about it with the typical

embellishments added. Not Tristan. Even as a child he’d hated talking about himself or

bringing any attention his way no matter the reason.

“Tell me about school,” he demanded softly. It seemed things really hadn’t changed.

He’d always been interested in what she had to say even if the topic was crayons, dresses,

or boys picking on her. He’d always been so sweet and patient with her. She didn’t entirely

believe his reputation of being a cold bastard. He’d always been kind to her even when

she’d acted like a brat.

“It’s going well,” she said quickly. She was really in no mood to talk about school since

she was up to her eyeballs in reading just to finish her thesis. Her personal life was out as

well since she didn’t really have one. The guy she'd kind of been seeing whenever she

wasn’t too busy dumped her today via a text.

Could you dump someone that you hadn’t seen in over a month? She didn’t think so.

After not seeing or hearing from someone in over, let’s say a week and a half, a break up

should be a mutual understanding. But if Jonathan needed closure he had it now.

Then there was her professional life. The bar she’d worked at for the past year and a half

fired her earlier today. The new manager was unhappy that she wouldn’t embrace his new

managerial style like the rest of his “good” employees.

In other words, she’d refused to wear the skimpy halter top with “Joe’s Bar” written

across her chest and “Come get some” stamped across the back of the skimpy shorts that

went along with the shirt. After a five-minute standoff, she was given her last paycheck and

a dirty look.

Thankfully nepotism was still alive and thriving. Her father, the Chief of the State Police

in their area, decided to give her part of the job that she was supposed to start when she

graduated, early. Since she was a few months shy of having her master’s degree in forensic

criminology, she couldn’t very well start that job yet. So, her father was creating a position

for her even though he swore up and down that it was needed. She was going to act as a

personal assistant to one of the detectives. That way she would get more hands on

experience. Whatever, she just hoped whoever it was didn’t expect her to fetch coffee.

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