Wreck Me
Page 42
It’s time for this pointless journey to end.
I take a final breath as my heart flat lines.
Then I fall.
Fall.
Fall.
Toward something I don’t understand.
To the stars.
All I see are stars.
Is this what death looks like?
Am I dead?
The revelation crashes against my chest like a jolt of electricity. Slams into my soul. Jumpstarts it again. I’m dead. Gone. I’ll never breathe again.
I don’t want to die.
Panic sets in. I stretch my arm out, reaching for something, but I can’t feel my hand. I try to breathe air into my lungs, but I’m not even sure I have a body anymore.
Please don’t let me die.
Please save me.
Please.
Help me.
Present day…
Chapter 36
I think I’m starting to understand the meaning of life.
Tristan
She looks like a ghost standing in the moonlight, her expression haunted by her past. Scars crisscross the flesh of her stomach and ribs, marks of how badly she was broken. Her anguish stabs at my heart, ruptures my soul, fills me with a helpless need to help her. I just don’t know how I can.
“Avery, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” My bare feet sink in the sand as I inch cautiously toward her. The entire time she recollected the day of the fire to me, she kept her distance. The space still remains as she stares helplessly at me, her chest rapidly heaving as she fights for air. “But what happened—even the fire—wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes it was.” She doesn’t step back as I approach her, but she tenses, gazing over my shoulder at the bonfire down the beach. “I should have walked away from Conner a long time ago… but I didn’t. And then…”
“None of that was your fault.” I clench my hands into fists. The thought of someone hurting her like that is unbearable. God, I thought I’d been through so much, but it seems unbelievably trivial now, unimportant. She’s the one that’s important now.
“Some of it was.” She angles her chin, her neck arching back as she looks up at the midnight sky as if she’s speaking to the stars. “And that’s something I’ll always have to pay for.”
“You don’t owe the world anything. You only owe yourself a good life.”
Her gaze collides with mine. “I know I do. I didn’t understand that for quite a while, but now... I think I’m getting that I deserve to be happy.”
I relax as she starts to loosen up. “I’m glad you understand that. You deserve every ounce of happiness there is.”
“So do you,” she says, inching toward me. “You know, for a while, I thought it was you… that I was supposed to help.”
That part of her story really got to me, but I don’t—can’t—think too much about it. The concept that both of us could have died and crossed over at the same time only to be brought back and reunited is mind-boggling. And, honestly, I don’t want this—us—to be about anything other than her and I anymore.
“Even if it wasn’t about helping me, you’ve helped me. A lot.” I dare another step toward her, yearning for her closeness, desperately needing to touch each of her scars, feel the realness of her. “You’ve helped me so much… more than you realize or even I realized until I started to think about it.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” She relaxes more, her shoulders unwinding with each even breath. “Whether it was you or not, I still wanted to do something good, you know? With all the bad that’s tainted my life, it’s been good to have some happiness.”
“But what about you?” I have to ask. “You deserve help too. I know you get stressed sometimes.”
“I’ll be fine,” she promises, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “I survived. I’m thriving, and that’s what really matters… that I’m”—she turns her back to me—“alive.”
My breath hitches in my throat at the sight of the tattoo I’ve begged to see for months.
Branches of a half dead, half flourishing tree span from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. The elaborate tree trunk sketches the length of her spine, dark ink embedded into her skin and surrounded by tons of pale, jagged scars. On the blossoming side of the tree is an inscription.
Carry me away.
To where I can breathe.
To where my soul can thrive again.
To where I can be free.
To where I can live again.
Give me life.
The ability to span my wings.
And fly.
Not fall.
I never want to fall again.
So help me survive.
Allow me to flourish.
And then let me forgive.
The second I finish reading it, I know there’s no going back. I’m completely captivated by Avery. I might even love her. I’m not even afraid to admit that to myself.
I wonder if I’m starting to understand the meaning of life, so I do the only thing I can do.
I kiss her.
Chapter 37
The stars are fading.
Avery
Showing him my scars was difficult, but telling my story was nearly unbearable. Still, I managed to do it and feel lighter because of it.
Maybe even weightless.
I feel extremely content as Tristan and I settle in the sand with a jacket spread out below us while we share a passionate kiss. His sturdy body is covering mine, his heat blanketing me with safeness. His fingers circle my wrist before he pins my arms above my head as our h*ps align. I can’t stop thinking about what he’s said, how he’s never been in a relationship and how I’m the only girl he’s been with that he wanted. The agony in his expression when he said it makes me want to erase the ache inside him.
I abruptly pull away from his mouth and slip my arms from his hold, leaving him panting as I scoot out from under him.
“What are you doing?” he asks breathless, turning around and sitting up on the jacket.
I hitch my leg over him and straddle his lap. “Something.”
He watches me through hooded eyes as I explore his muscles and tats with my fingertips. When I reach his side, though, I pause as I feel a lightly raised bump.
“What is this?” I ask, leaning down to inspect it closer.
He shrugs indifferently. “Just a scar.”
I gape at him. “Is it from that night?”
He lifts a shoulder and shrugs again. “It’s not that big of a deal, Avery. It could have been worse… way, way worse than me ending up with a tiny scar.”
I shake my head, awestruck. “It is a big deal. You took a knife for me.”
“It’s what anyone would have done.”
I lightly comb through the long strands of my hair. “No, it is a huge deal. I’ve had a knife taken to me more than once and no one stopped it, not even myself.”
His body stiffens underneath me. “Is…?” He cups the side of my neck and his thumb delicately brushes across the hollow of my throat. “Is that what this is from? Or was it from the fire?”
I swallow hard, knowing he can feel the movement of my throat. “It was from Conner.”
“Avery… I can’t stand the thought of how bad he hurt you. It’s haunted me ever since the first day I met you.”
“I know. It haunts me too, but there’s not much I can do about it.”
“I wish there was something I could do.” His fingertips rest above my racing pulse. “Honestly, part of me wants to kill him.”
“Those are some deep words.” My voice is uneven along with my heartbeat.
“But I mean them.” His fingertips drift down the curve of my neck. “I’ve felt that way since the first day I met you.” His thumb softly strokes the scar one more time before he pulls me toward him and entices me toward his lips.
We start kissing again, my body erupting with heat as he lies back down, wraps his arms around me, and brings me with him. I get lost in every deep stroke of his tongue, the irresistible taste of his lips, the overwhelming rock of his hips. My hands wander all over him, down the front of his carved chest, across his taut stomach, to the top of his jeans. His breathing quickens as I undo the button and then drag down the zipper. He immediately starts to protest, but the words get stuck in his throat as my fingers dip down and brush against his swollen cock.
“Jesus,” he gasps, his mouth leaving mine as his head tips back and his eyes drift shut. “That feels so good.”
My pulse slams with eagerness as my hand moves up and down and I watch him in wonder. The way his neck muscles move every time he moans my name… the way his lips part when he gasps… the way his chest rises and falls as he struggles to hold on. Finally, his hands find my waist, grasping me as he flips me over on my back.
Warm skin grazes against my scars as my back sinks deeper into the sand. Things grow more heated as he unhooks the clasp of my swimsuit top, and then his mouth covers my nipple. If I thought his fingers were amazing, it’s nothing compared to his tongue.
I groan as I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, my back arching up from the ground. “God, that feels so good…”
His tongue traces circles as he sucks and gently bites my sensitive flesh. Then giving one last gentle tug, his lips find mine again. Nothing else matters at that moment as our chests crash together, our rapid breathing matching as we kiss the life from each other.
I drown in the way he makes me feel, although not in a helpless way. No, I feel safe. Cared for. Tristan has protected me. Has been there for me. Has taken a knife for me. I feel so at peace.
Maybe even in love.
Suddenly, I lean back and push Tristan away.
“What are you doing?” he asks, breathless, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at me in confusion.
Without answering, I slip my shorts down and lie na**d before him in the sand. It’s my first time since that God awful day, but I feel the exact opposite. I’m not scared, ready for it to end. In fact, I want it to last a very long time, which maybe it will. Or it won’t. I can’t be sure. That’s the thing. I can’t be sure about anything really, but shutting down and putting walls up is a lonely life to live.
I don’t want to be lonely anymore.
I want him.
“Kiss me,” I say as I reach for him.
He willingly returns to me, the kiss smoldering with passion and heat. Minutes later, both of our clothes are stripped off, and he’s hovering over me with a condom on, ready to slip inside me.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as he supports his weight with his arms. He’s breathing profusely, like his lungs can’t keep up with his breaths “Because I can wait—”
I cover his mouth with my hand. “No more waiting. I want this—I want you.”
His breath falters as he nods. This time, when he kisses me, it’s slow, savoring, as if he’s memorizing the feel of my lips. While I kiss him back as I lift my hips, he slides inside me. For a brief moment, I feel pain connected to the last time I had sex. However, it quickly vanishes and all that remains is pleasure.
Want.
Need.
Desire.
For him.
“Good God, Avery,” he groans as he thrusts deeply into me.
I respond by digging my nails into his shoulder blades, begging him closer.
He gives me what I want, slipping deep inside me.
And our bodies join beneath the night sky.
But the stars seem much more distant, much dimmer.
As if they’re fading.
Until they’re completely gone.
And there’s nothing left.
Except Tristan and me.
Chapter 38
The past isn’t quite gone yet.
Avery
It’s early morning by the time Tristan and I leave the beach. Thirty minutes later, he’s dropping me off at The Vibe where my Jeep is parked. My lips are swollen from all the kissing, my body still tingling everywhere that he touched me, and my mind continues to spin over what happened. Part of me worries it was wrong. However, most of me believes it was right. And I feel so happy, so content, more than I have in a very long time.
“Drive safely,” Tristan whispers after he’s done kissing me goodbye. “And, please, call me if you need anything. In fact, call me when you get home, just so I know you’re safe.”
I nod and then get out of the car. He waits until I’m in my vehicle and the engine is started before he drives away with me following him to the exit where we turn in opposite directions. As his taillights fade in my rearview mirror, I suddenly feel so lonely. The loneliness only increases when I realize that, in just a few short weeks, I’ll watch him leave permanently.
“This sucks,” I mutter as I turn down a side road that is lined with trees and empty land being prepped for development. “Maybe I was wrong to let him in my life.” But as soon as I say it, I know I’m wrong. I’ve regretted a lot of things in my life—big, scarring things—but my time with Tristan isn’t now, nor will it ever be, one of those things.
As I make the journey home, smoking a cigarette, I drift into my thoughts over what I’m going to do when it’s time for Tristan to go. I’m halfway home, driving on one of the empty back roads, when I hear a rasping noise behind my seat. My hairs stand on end as I realize I’m not alone in the car.
Keep driving. Keep driving. Pretend everything is okay.
I flick the butt of my cigarette out the window, glance over at my phone on the passenger seat, and then reach for it to text Tristan.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I jerk back at the sound of Conner’s voice and almost veer off the road into a tree. Regaining control of the car, I swerve back onto the road, the tires skidding against the asphalt.
I take a final breath as my heart flat lines.
Then I fall.
Fall.
Fall.
Toward something I don’t understand.
To the stars.
All I see are stars.
Is this what death looks like?
Am I dead?
The revelation crashes against my chest like a jolt of electricity. Slams into my soul. Jumpstarts it again. I’m dead. Gone. I’ll never breathe again.
I don’t want to die.
Panic sets in. I stretch my arm out, reaching for something, but I can’t feel my hand. I try to breathe air into my lungs, but I’m not even sure I have a body anymore.
Please don’t let me die.
Please save me.
Please.
Help me.
Present day…
Chapter 36
I think I’m starting to understand the meaning of life.
Tristan
She looks like a ghost standing in the moonlight, her expression haunted by her past. Scars crisscross the flesh of her stomach and ribs, marks of how badly she was broken. Her anguish stabs at my heart, ruptures my soul, fills me with a helpless need to help her. I just don’t know how I can.
“Avery, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” My bare feet sink in the sand as I inch cautiously toward her. The entire time she recollected the day of the fire to me, she kept her distance. The space still remains as she stares helplessly at me, her chest rapidly heaving as she fights for air. “But what happened—even the fire—wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes it was.” She doesn’t step back as I approach her, but she tenses, gazing over my shoulder at the bonfire down the beach. “I should have walked away from Conner a long time ago… but I didn’t. And then…”
“None of that was your fault.” I clench my hands into fists. The thought of someone hurting her like that is unbearable. God, I thought I’d been through so much, but it seems unbelievably trivial now, unimportant. She’s the one that’s important now.
“Some of it was.” She angles her chin, her neck arching back as she looks up at the midnight sky as if she’s speaking to the stars. “And that’s something I’ll always have to pay for.”
“You don’t owe the world anything. You only owe yourself a good life.”
Her gaze collides with mine. “I know I do. I didn’t understand that for quite a while, but now... I think I’m getting that I deserve to be happy.”
I relax as she starts to loosen up. “I’m glad you understand that. You deserve every ounce of happiness there is.”
“So do you,” she says, inching toward me. “You know, for a while, I thought it was you… that I was supposed to help.”
That part of her story really got to me, but I don’t—can’t—think too much about it. The concept that both of us could have died and crossed over at the same time only to be brought back and reunited is mind-boggling. And, honestly, I don’t want this—us—to be about anything other than her and I anymore.
“Even if it wasn’t about helping me, you’ve helped me. A lot.” I dare another step toward her, yearning for her closeness, desperately needing to touch each of her scars, feel the realness of her. “You’ve helped me so much… more than you realize or even I realized until I started to think about it.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” She relaxes more, her shoulders unwinding with each even breath. “Whether it was you or not, I still wanted to do something good, you know? With all the bad that’s tainted my life, it’s been good to have some happiness.”
“But what about you?” I have to ask. “You deserve help too. I know you get stressed sometimes.”
“I’ll be fine,” she promises, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “I survived. I’m thriving, and that’s what really matters… that I’m”—she turns her back to me—“alive.”
My breath hitches in my throat at the sight of the tattoo I’ve begged to see for months.
Branches of a half dead, half flourishing tree span from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. The elaborate tree trunk sketches the length of her spine, dark ink embedded into her skin and surrounded by tons of pale, jagged scars. On the blossoming side of the tree is an inscription.
Carry me away.
To where I can breathe.
To where my soul can thrive again.
To where I can be free.
To where I can live again.
Give me life.
The ability to span my wings.
And fly.
Not fall.
I never want to fall again.
So help me survive.
Allow me to flourish.
And then let me forgive.
The second I finish reading it, I know there’s no going back. I’m completely captivated by Avery. I might even love her. I’m not even afraid to admit that to myself.
I wonder if I’m starting to understand the meaning of life, so I do the only thing I can do.
I kiss her.
Chapter 37
The stars are fading.
Avery
Showing him my scars was difficult, but telling my story was nearly unbearable. Still, I managed to do it and feel lighter because of it.
Maybe even weightless.
I feel extremely content as Tristan and I settle in the sand with a jacket spread out below us while we share a passionate kiss. His sturdy body is covering mine, his heat blanketing me with safeness. His fingers circle my wrist before he pins my arms above my head as our h*ps align. I can’t stop thinking about what he’s said, how he’s never been in a relationship and how I’m the only girl he’s been with that he wanted. The agony in his expression when he said it makes me want to erase the ache inside him.
I abruptly pull away from his mouth and slip my arms from his hold, leaving him panting as I scoot out from under him.
“What are you doing?” he asks breathless, turning around and sitting up on the jacket.
I hitch my leg over him and straddle his lap. “Something.”
He watches me through hooded eyes as I explore his muscles and tats with my fingertips. When I reach his side, though, I pause as I feel a lightly raised bump.
“What is this?” I ask, leaning down to inspect it closer.
He shrugs indifferently. “Just a scar.”
I gape at him. “Is it from that night?”
He lifts a shoulder and shrugs again. “It’s not that big of a deal, Avery. It could have been worse… way, way worse than me ending up with a tiny scar.”
I shake my head, awestruck. “It is a big deal. You took a knife for me.”
“It’s what anyone would have done.”
I lightly comb through the long strands of my hair. “No, it is a huge deal. I’ve had a knife taken to me more than once and no one stopped it, not even myself.”
His body stiffens underneath me. “Is…?” He cups the side of my neck and his thumb delicately brushes across the hollow of my throat. “Is that what this is from? Or was it from the fire?”
I swallow hard, knowing he can feel the movement of my throat. “It was from Conner.”
“Avery… I can’t stand the thought of how bad he hurt you. It’s haunted me ever since the first day I met you.”
“I know. It haunts me too, but there’s not much I can do about it.”
“I wish there was something I could do.” His fingertips rest above my racing pulse. “Honestly, part of me wants to kill him.”
“Those are some deep words.” My voice is uneven along with my heartbeat.
“But I mean them.” His fingertips drift down the curve of my neck. “I’ve felt that way since the first day I met you.” His thumb softly strokes the scar one more time before he pulls me toward him and entices me toward his lips.
We start kissing again, my body erupting with heat as he lies back down, wraps his arms around me, and brings me with him. I get lost in every deep stroke of his tongue, the irresistible taste of his lips, the overwhelming rock of his hips. My hands wander all over him, down the front of his carved chest, across his taut stomach, to the top of his jeans. His breathing quickens as I undo the button and then drag down the zipper. He immediately starts to protest, but the words get stuck in his throat as my fingers dip down and brush against his swollen cock.
“Jesus,” he gasps, his mouth leaving mine as his head tips back and his eyes drift shut. “That feels so good.”
My pulse slams with eagerness as my hand moves up and down and I watch him in wonder. The way his neck muscles move every time he moans my name… the way his lips part when he gasps… the way his chest rises and falls as he struggles to hold on. Finally, his hands find my waist, grasping me as he flips me over on my back.
Warm skin grazes against my scars as my back sinks deeper into the sand. Things grow more heated as he unhooks the clasp of my swimsuit top, and then his mouth covers my nipple. If I thought his fingers were amazing, it’s nothing compared to his tongue.
I groan as I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, my back arching up from the ground. “God, that feels so good…”
His tongue traces circles as he sucks and gently bites my sensitive flesh. Then giving one last gentle tug, his lips find mine again. Nothing else matters at that moment as our chests crash together, our rapid breathing matching as we kiss the life from each other.
I drown in the way he makes me feel, although not in a helpless way. No, I feel safe. Cared for. Tristan has protected me. Has been there for me. Has taken a knife for me. I feel so at peace.
Maybe even in love.
Suddenly, I lean back and push Tristan away.
“What are you doing?” he asks, breathless, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at me in confusion.
Without answering, I slip my shorts down and lie na**d before him in the sand. It’s my first time since that God awful day, but I feel the exact opposite. I’m not scared, ready for it to end. In fact, I want it to last a very long time, which maybe it will. Or it won’t. I can’t be sure. That’s the thing. I can’t be sure about anything really, but shutting down and putting walls up is a lonely life to live.
I don’t want to be lonely anymore.
I want him.
“Kiss me,” I say as I reach for him.
He willingly returns to me, the kiss smoldering with passion and heat. Minutes later, both of our clothes are stripped off, and he’s hovering over me with a condom on, ready to slip inside me.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as he supports his weight with his arms. He’s breathing profusely, like his lungs can’t keep up with his breaths “Because I can wait—”
I cover his mouth with my hand. “No more waiting. I want this—I want you.”
His breath falters as he nods. This time, when he kisses me, it’s slow, savoring, as if he’s memorizing the feel of my lips. While I kiss him back as I lift my hips, he slides inside me. For a brief moment, I feel pain connected to the last time I had sex. However, it quickly vanishes and all that remains is pleasure.
Want.
Need.
Desire.
For him.
“Good God, Avery,” he groans as he thrusts deeply into me.
I respond by digging my nails into his shoulder blades, begging him closer.
He gives me what I want, slipping deep inside me.
And our bodies join beneath the night sky.
But the stars seem much more distant, much dimmer.
As if they’re fading.
Until they’re completely gone.
And there’s nothing left.
Except Tristan and me.
Chapter 38
The past isn’t quite gone yet.
Avery
It’s early morning by the time Tristan and I leave the beach. Thirty minutes later, he’s dropping me off at The Vibe where my Jeep is parked. My lips are swollen from all the kissing, my body still tingling everywhere that he touched me, and my mind continues to spin over what happened. Part of me worries it was wrong. However, most of me believes it was right. And I feel so happy, so content, more than I have in a very long time.
“Drive safely,” Tristan whispers after he’s done kissing me goodbye. “And, please, call me if you need anything. In fact, call me when you get home, just so I know you’re safe.”
I nod and then get out of the car. He waits until I’m in my vehicle and the engine is started before he drives away with me following him to the exit where we turn in opposite directions. As his taillights fade in my rearview mirror, I suddenly feel so lonely. The loneliness only increases when I realize that, in just a few short weeks, I’ll watch him leave permanently.
“This sucks,” I mutter as I turn down a side road that is lined with trees and empty land being prepped for development. “Maybe I was wrong to let him in my life.” But as soon as I say it, I know I’m wrong. I’ve regretted a lot of things in my life—big, scarring things—but my time with Tristan isn’t now, nor will it ever be, one of those things.
As I make the journey home, smoking a cigarette, I drift into my thoughts over what I’m going to do when it’s time for Tristan to go. I’m halfway home, driving on one of the empty back roads, when I hear a rasping noise behind my seat. My hairs stand on end as I realize I’m not alone in the car.
Keep driving. Keep driving. Pretend everything is okay.
I flick the butt of my cigarette out the window, glance over at my phone on the passenger seat, and then reach for it to text Tristan.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I jerk back at the sound of Conner’s voice and almost veer off the road into a tree. Regaining control of the car, I swerve back onto the road, the tires skidding against the asphalt.
