Tryst (14 page)

“Tristan here is under the impression I’m fucking the meat head with muscle standing behind you. I mean, I get how they might slightly resemble each other. However, last time I checked, the closest I’ve been to fucking anyone this past week is the sexy piece of ass in my novel,” she spat before returning to her office and slamming the door.

Turning back to face a pissed as fuck Lith, and a not so thrilled to see me Cage, I stick my foot in my mouth even further. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on? Why the fuck are you sneaking into my girl’s house? And why the hell are you here? I thought you were staying with Dante.”

“Whoa, hold up there, Casanova. You actually went and accused Bentley of screwing someone else? What the fuck is the matter with you? You can’t seriously be that fucking dumb,” she retorts.

“Well let’s see, I haven’t seen or heard from her in days. I catch my best friend sneaking into her house, and since I was under the distinct impression you were staying with Dante, how the fuck would that look to you?” I question.

“Umm, well yeah, I was staying with him before the wicked wench with serious vagina envy decided he was staying there. I wasn’t about to get dragged into that drama fest, so Bentley said I can stay here. But she’s locked away writing, and I ran into your buddy here over at the gym and decided he looked like fun so we’ve been hanging the past few days. But back to you, asshole, did you really just accuse Bentley of sleeping with someone else? The girl hasn’t left that office unless it was to pee or grab a quick bite from the fridge.”

I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand here, as Lith continues to hand me my ass.

“You know, you’re the first guy aside from Dante she’s ever given a shit about. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one she’s ever slept with. That’s usually a good fucking indication she trusts you. I’d go as far as to say she cares about you, but after the shit you just pulled, I’d rank you pretty low on the totem pole,” she chides.

“You think I wanted to hurt her? Okay, yeah I guess a part of me did. The thought of her with anyone else, let alone my closest friend, was fucking killing me. She may as well drive a stake through my fucking heart. She hasn’t spoken to me in three days, yet I see my best friend sneaking through her door. So yeah, I assumed the fucking worst, and yeah, I’m a piece of shit for not trusting her. But trust doesn’t exactly come easy to me, especially with women. That is unless you’re a seventy-four year old woman by the name of Aggie. That girl in there, though,” I say pointing towards the office, “that girl is capable of fucking destroying me. I can’t fucking sit here and lie and say I don’t love her. I’m pretty sure I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her, and it scares the shit out of me. The idea she may not feel the same, that she may want someone better than me, that fucking kills me.” I confess, feeling an overwhelming sense of defeat.

“Have you even considered telling her how you feel, you know, aside from accusing her of fucking your buddy? I mean, it’d be pretty fucking stupid to just assume she knows, considering her family’s track record. She’s not a mind reader, you know. I think maybe you should at least try to explain shit to her. But you need to figure out what the fuck is going on, because she’s not going to take much more of your shit, especially not you accusing her of things she’d never even consider doing,” she replies, before heading back up the stairs.

I stand there for a few moments after Cage and Lith leave, trying to consider what to say. It seems like every time I turn around I’m accusing her of sleeping with someone. What the fuck is my problem? It’s not like she’s given me any reason to suspect her, yet here I am being a son of a whore and fucking everything up again.

I knock on her door expecting it to be locked, but when I turn the handle it squeaks and opens. I slowly open the door, half expecting her to throw something at my head, but what I walk into his so much worse. Her office is a mess. I can’t say if it’s normal for her, but I’m guessing it isn’t. Bentley usually has everything in its place, perfect and orderly, but this, this looks like a small bomb went off in here. She doesn’t even look up at me as her forehead rests against the desk. I can tell by the way she’s breathing she’s fucking hurting. Small sobs are escaping her. I walk around her desk, putting my hands on her shoulders but she stays unmoving. I owe her an explanation at the very least.

A slight movement of her hand turns her desktop screen from black to white with a bunch of writing. Figuring it’s a piece of her latest book, I skim through it. But what I read make makes we want to vomit violently. It’s a letter written from an unknown email address, talking about Bentley’s rape. She’s calling her a filthy whore who deserves to be buried alive, how she’s nothing more than a disease that needs to be eradicated. She goes on to say how she wishes she would have dropped some old radio into the pool when Bentley was a child. I can’t finish the words. The hurt that Bentley must be going through is more than I can even imagine. At the bottom of the email though, is something that sets off such a burning hatred in me that I want to skin this sadistic bitch alive. A picture of Bentley, naked and broken, covered in blood and grime, and unconscious in an alley, is sitting at the bottom of the email. Below it are the words
filth deserves filth, the only thing someone as dirty as you deserves, is to be buried beneath it
.

I click the email off her screen, not wanting her looking up and seeing it. I promise myself then and there, if I ever come face to face with that bitch again one of us isn’t coming out alive.  I’ve never really had anything in my life aside from Aggie that was worth fighting for, and up until tonight, I didn’t think there was anything or anyone worth dying for. I was wrong. Nothing and no one is going to take Bentley from me.

It isn’t until reading those words I truly realize how much she means to me, and how much it would fucking kill me to lose her. She isn’t just under my skin. She is embedded so deep inside me that I don’t know that I’d survive losing her. Now I just needed to show her, starting with a truth I hadn’t ever wanted to admit.

“Bentley, baby, how long have you had that email? How long have you been re-reading it?” I ask, afraid of the answer. She doesn’t answer me though, so I spin her chair to face me. I don’t know how the fuck I missed her swollen eyes earlier. She hadn’t just started crying, she’s been crying for a long while. Her eyes are red and puffy and barely open.

“What do you care? I’m just some filthy whore who will fuck anyone. Isn’t that right, Tristan? You seem so hell bent on accusing me of it, so it must be true,” she spits back at me.

She’s right. This isn’t the first time I’ve said it, and no matter how much I didn’t mean the words, nothing will fucking change what I’ve done. “No, baby, you aren’t some fucking whore. I swear to God, Bentley, I didn’t fucking mean it. You’re one of the sweetest, most genuine people I know. If you ever believe anything I tell you, believe that. I just…, I was going fucking insane not seeing you. I couldn’t stand not having you near me to breathing in your scent. I missed tasting you on my lips, and hearing your voice. But more than anything, Bentley, my body was in withdrawal from not touching you. I was going out of my fucking mind. Then to see my best friend, someone who I should be able to trust, sneaking into your house, I assumed the worst. And you’re right, you’ve never given me a reason not to trust you, and I do, baby, believe me, I do. I don’t know if I trust Cage, though,” I explain, as she looks up at me.

“I was with someone who I thought I loved for over two years. One night, after a two day trip, I went home expecting my girl to be waiting for me, except that wasn’t what I found. What I found was my girl and Cage fucking each other senseless in my bed. The worst part is…, I was more fucked up by his betrayal than hers. At the time, it hit me hard. I thought I loved her. Hell, I even considered proposing at some point. The next day, Cage couldn’t even remember what the fuck happened. It’s why I didn’t introduce the two of you. You’re gorgeous, Bentley, and whether you want to believe it or not, you mean a lot fucking more to me than you think. I didn’t want to compete with him for your attention, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to lose another girl to him. Especially not one I’m falling in love with. So yeah, I was torn the fuck up tonight, and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean. I need you to forgive me, Bentley. I need to fucking hear you’ll give me another chance, because I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do if you tell me you can’t,” I beg.

Shaking her head back and forth she replies, “You should have told me, Tryst. You should have trusted me enough to let me know what happened. You expect me to just tell you everything without question, yet you tell me nothing. I don’t get it. First, you treat me as if I’m just some fuck buddy. I can’t even call us friends with benefits because there is no friendship. Then, you storm in here acting like you have some claim on me and demand answers to questions I don’t even know. Then when you don’t like the answer you call me a liar. And worst of all, you have the nerve to tell me you think your falling in love with me, like that should be the best news in the world. Well it’s not, Tristan. I’m sorry but it’s just not. You can’t love someone you can’t trust. You can’t love someone you don’t even confide in. I don’t even know who you are, so do not stand here and tell me you might be in love with me, because that’s the worst thing in the world you could tell me right now,” she sobs, before getting up and rushing out of the room.

I need help, my heart is breaking and I need someone to help me piece it back together. Sitting on my bed, I dial the number of the one person I know can sort it out. She’s the one person who can make sense of the fucked up mess I’ve created. The phone rings several times before I hear one of the sweetest voices I’ve ever heard.

“Hi Aggie, how are you?”

She picks up on the anguish in my voice and I explain the predicament I’ve created. The idea of losing the only girl I may ever love. In that moment I don’t know what would be worse, if her mother did find her and I never got to see or hear her again, or seeing and hearing her every day and knowing she will never be mine.

“My sweet boy,” Aggie says, “when are you going to stop trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders? You can’t keep judging everyone based on one rotten seed. I taught you better than that, young man. If she means as much to you as you say she does, then she’s worth fighting for. When the heart truly wants something, it knows it, and there’s no greater pain than that of a broken heart. Sure bones break, but they heal. When the heart loses the one it’s truly meant to be with, that never heals, darling. So, if what you’re saying is true, I suggest you get your ass off this phone and stop sulking. Go suck up whatever pride you have left, and prove to that girl what she means to you. You hear me?”

After an hour of being lectured on the finer points of love and life, I try and fail miserably at falling asleep. Everything is running through my mind, Aggie’s words, Bentley’s pain, and that cunt bitch whose head I’d like to rip the fuck off.

When I finally reach a breaking point, I can’t take it anymore and slink back over to Bentley’s house. I know its borderline stalking, but I had a copy of her key made just in case something happened. Letting myself in, I quietly head up the stairs and to her room. She’s not in her bed, but the shower off to the side of her room is running. Walking into her room, and locking the door behind me, I pull my clothes off and head to her bathroom. I know she hates me, and I don’t blame her for it, but I need to feel her. I need to know she’s safe.

Entering the shower, I find her curled up in a ball on the floor. The water is damn near scalding, pelting across her face and the front of her body. She sits there rocking slightly back and forth and it feels like a knife is being twisted into my chest. I cool the temperature a little before sitting behind her and wrapping my arms and legs around her. My nose is pressed against her neck, breathing in her scent.

She doesn’t fight me. She doesn’t try to pull away. It’s like she’s broken, like the weight of everything happening has ruined her. We both sit there together as I rock to the slight rhythm she has created, holding her close so she can feed off of my body heat as the water slowly cools. After turning the water off, I go search for a towel to wrap her in. When I return, I find she’s still sitting on the now cold tile floor, her eyes closed as she pulls herself tighter into a ball.

Wrapping the towel around her as best I can, I pick her up off the floor, and a sense of déjà vu washes over me. Drying her as best I can, I lay her in the bed and tuck the blankets in around her to warm the chills now running across her skin. I towel dry myself off as well, and crawl in next to her, hoping she will let me hold her close. To my utter shock and disbelief she turns into me, wrapping her arm across my torso as her head rests against my chest, her leg wrapping itself between mine. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her in even closer, and pull the blankets up around us.

As I close my eyes and drift off, I hear her murmur a silent plea. “Please don’t let her take me, Tryst. Promise you’ll always find me,” she whispers, before falling into slumber.

Her words wash over me, and as I stroke her hair away from her face I promise, “I promise, Love, I’ll always come for you, and I’ll always find you.” I sigh before falling into a dreamless sleep.

Waking to an angel still wrapped in my arms, I try carefully to untangle her so as not to wake her up. After throwing my clothes back on, I take her stairs as quietly as possible and head into her office. After a few clicks on her keyboard, the message from her mother pops back up. Dated three days ago, my baby has likely been staring at that fucking message for almost all three days. Grabbing my cell, I punch a text to Cage, knowing he’s either upstairs or across the street, and tell him to step lightly and meet me here.