Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

EMILY

I'd vowed to avoid Tristan tonight, if I could help it.

Staying away from him was one thing. Thinking about him constantly was another. I'd done nothing but that since our encounter at my mother's house a couple of days ago.

His voice sounded fantastic during tonight's performance in Louisiana-gritty yet velvety smooth, without the shakiness that had crept in previously. Tristan had a way of conveying emotion with every note, and tonight he seemed to be back at the top of his game.

Nonetheless, I found myself in an emotional tailspin. During the show, Tristan brought a woman from the audience onstage with him. That wasn't anything new. He was known for doing that, and the crowd always went wild, every woman hoping she would be the one he chose, to have the opportunity to touch him. He'd sing a certain song and dance slowly with the woman, often with their bodies pressed together. It hadn't bothered me before, but because of what had happened between us, or the fact that the fan he'd brought up tonight was especially attractive, this time things felt different. She was also aggressive, at one point grabbing his face and kissing him. It was clear Tristan hadn't been expecting it, but he didn't stop it either. A surge of jealousy tore through me, a reminder of how dangerous my feelings for him had become.

For the rest of the night, I felt sick. I helped load some things onto the buses after the show and prayed Tristan didn't contact me tonight. I didn't want him to sense that I was upset, nor did I think it was a good idea for me to be alone with him again.

We'd be playing two shows here in Louisiana, so tonight was a hotel night. After completing my post-show tasks, I went to my room and planned to take a shower and climb into bed.

But about 10:30, I received a text from Stephen.

Stephen: Tristan needs wart remover.

Emily: You've got to be kidding me.

Stephen: Not kidding you.

Could I make up an excuse and ask him to send someone else? I could say I was sick. My mind raced as I contemplated that. But alas, the urge to see Tristan overruled my better judgment.

Emily: On it.

"What do you have to get this time?" Layla asked as I rushed around to grab my things.

This one was so ridiculous that I didn't want to tell her. "Just some random stuff," I said. "Looks like Walmart closes at eleven, so I have to hurry."

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach the entire way to the store. I soon returned with two different kinds of wart remover-just for the hell of it-and went to Tristan's room.

This hotel didn't have a penthouse suite with a code, so he was in a regular room and would have to let me in.

After I knocked, I heard his gruff voice on the other side of the door. "Who is it?"

"It's the wart-remover express."

He opened and flashed a mischievous grin. "You're such a trooper."

"And you're a jackass." I threw the bag at his chest.

"Just remember, the more embarrassing the item, the more I miss you."

"Well, based on this, you must miss me a lot."

"I did." He snickered. "You're lucky I didn't order flavored lube. I debated it."

"Do you need anything in particular?" My tone was abrupt. "Let me guess, you want to know how I thought you sounded tonight?"

His smile faded. "You really think that's the only reason I called you here?"

Crossing my arms, I answered, "I think it's one of the reasons, yeah."

"You're my reward for a job well done, remember?"

"I'm your reward for a job well done and your distraction from your problems. That's a big responsibility and probably not healthy, Tristan." My demeanor hardened further as I again thought about that woman onstage.

His brows drew in. "What's wrong, Emily?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You're not looking me in the eyes, and you seem upset. I want to kiss you, but I'm afraid you'll bite my head off."

"Haven't you had enough kisses for one night?" I spat. He'd walked right into that one.

His expression darkened. "What do you mean?"

"Do you seriously not know?"

He shook his head.

"That woman you brought up onstage. You let her kiss you. Do you not fucking remember?"

"Ah. Shit." His eyes closed for a moment. "You're probably not going to believe me, but I had completely forgotten she kissed me. That's how little it meant to me." He closed the gap between us. "Emily, do you know how many women I've kissed? Not a single one has meant a damn thing in, God, I don't know how long- years -except our kiss."

How the hell was I supposed to stay mad after he said that?

I cracked a smile.

He looked relieved. "I got food for us."

For the first time, I noticed the spread behind him. "Middle Eastern? How did you manage that this late? Catering had Italian tonight."

"I know you like it, so I asked Mario to have it delivered."

"That was very thoughtful of you."

"Will you stay? I won't lay a hand-or mouth-on you, I promise. Just eating. Food." He winked. "Eating food . Nothing else. Promise."

A few minutes later, I'd forgotten all about the anxiety from earlier. Eating Middle Eastern food late at night while lounging with Tristan had become my happy place. It was our thing. This time we ate on the spare bed. He always requested a room with two beds, one for eating on and one for sleeping. Tristan sat up against the headboard while I kept a safe distance at the foot of the bed.

As we finished our meal, he smiled. "I haven't interrogated you in a while. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

I wiped my mouth. "Depends on what they are."

"There's a lot I still don't know about you. And my goal in life is to eventually know everything there is about Emily Applewood. But due to time constraints, acquiring that information has to come in phases." He grinned.

I swallowed, already feeling guilty for what I wouldn't be admitting. "Okay…"

"Do you believe in God?" He licked the corner of his mouth. "I mean, we've talked about your negative feelings toward religion. But we didn't dive too deeply into whether you feel like there's a higher power."

I tried not to overthink my answer. "I believe in…something. But I don't know that I trust in God the way I should. When you lose someone you care about, it makes you wonder if anyone is looking out for you or the people you love."

He nodded. "Stuff like that does make it hard to believe. I try to tell myself there are things we don't understand, that maybe some people have a certain purpose on this Earth, and their time is limited from the beginning-they aren't taken away, but maybe they agreed to that expiration date as part of their plan."

"So what would Jacob's mission have been if he died before ever really getting to live, never getting to see his dreams come true?" I challenged. "Make it make sense."

Tristan shook his head. "I don't have an answer, beautiful. But perhaps someone's purpose is not to achieve anything grand in life, but rather to touch the people around them. To leave an impression on this Earth. Some people change you just by having known them. I know that's kind of woo-woo and I sound like Ronan right now, but I have to think like that to accept tragedy."

"Have you ever lost someone?" I asked.

"You mean to death?"

"Yeah."

"No. So I probably have no right even talking about this shit. You're so much stronger than I am after what you've been through. You're so freaking young, but you've experienced much more."

"I'm not that young."

"Too young to be messing around with a nearly washed-up musician who's fifteen years older."

"You're far from washed up. And you sounded amazing tonight, by the way."

"See? I wasn't even gonna ask, because I didn't want you to think that's why I called you, because it isn't. But thank you for letting me know."

"You need to rest your voice more often. It does you good."

Tristan leaned back against the headboard and smirked. "Is that your excuse to leave?"

"I'm not in any rush," I admitted.

"Good, because I'm nowhere done with you."

"In what way?" I swallowed.

"Not done asking questions." He winked. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Applewood."

I tilted my head. "What else do you want to know?"

"What's the scariest thing you've ever done?" he asked.

Agreeing to come on this tour. I chose the second scariest thing.

"Probably facing Henry's kids after the…accident. Knowing they hated me for causing his death but looking them in the eyes anyway and apologizing for what happened."

"I can't imagine how tough that was," he said softly.

"There wasn't anything I could say that would make them feel better, so I didn't try. And sorry didn't seem to cut it. It was just one meeting, initiated by me so I could sleep better at night. But it was a horrible experience."

"You didn't owe them an apology, given the circumstances."

"I felt I did, even though what happened wasn't intentional." Starting to sweat, I needed to take the attention off of me. "My turn to ask a question."

"Go ahead. Ask me anything."

"Have you ever been in love?" My heart rose to my mouth as I awaited his answer.

"Once, yeah."

"When?"

"Back when I was sixteen. Right before I left Iowa for California."

"What was her name?"

His lips parted slightly. "Cheyenne."

"What happened?"

He looked at me like I should've known the answer. "I left for California…"

"I know that. But I mean…what happened before you left?"

"I told her I wanted to make things work long distance, but she didn't seem to want the stress of that, didn't believe it could work. Nor did she want to come with me-being in high school and all that. She was always supportive of my musical aspirations, but she didn't want to leave home. And I guess she didn't truly trust me, even though she could've at the time." Tristan looked away. "I loved her. Or I believed I did, as much as you can believe you love someone at that age. And despite her worries, I wouldn't have cheated on her, if she'd told me she wanted to make it work."

"You think you would've remained faithful all these years?"

"If we had stayed together, yes."

"Sixteen is so young to make decisions about your future."

"Yeah…but you know how it is when you're that age. You feel a lot older." He shook his head. "Sometimes being sixteen feels like yesterday." He turned to me and laughed. "For you, it practically is."

I rolled my eyes. "I feel like sixteen is a lifetime ago. It was before…everything. Before everything that changed my life," I murmured. "I wish I could go back to sixteen."

He moved closer. "Yeah. I'm sorry if I reminded you of that stuff again."

"Do you know what became of Cheyenne?"

He sighed. "I tried to keep in touch with her those first couple of years, but we drifted apart. She stopped calling me back, and I took the hint. By the time the boy-band thing happened, I'd pretty much scared her off for good."

"Hold up." My eyes went wide. "Boy band?"

"You didn't know about that?" Tristan chuckled.

"I didn't."

"It was when I was a teenager, before I met Atticus and Ronan. These other guys and I mostly played private events and never achieved the kind of fame we wanted. Not only was I singing, I was dancing back then, too. Had bangs so freaking long you couldn't even see my eyes, and baggy pants that looked like you could fly away in them. They hung halfway down my ass."

I giggled. "I can't picture you in a boy band."

"Try not to."

"I'm doing just the opposite right now."

"Promise not to laugh, and I'll show you a photo."

"I can do no such thing."

He found his phone anyway and pulled up an image from the Internet of the old band. They had matching outfits and were all kneeling with their fingers pointed toward the camera.

"Sexy, right?" He chuckled.

You couldn't even see his beautiful eyes with those crazy long bangs.

I snorted. "I prefer you now."

"Well, you, Emily, were probably all of what…three years old when this photo was taken?"

"That's kind of crazy."

He took the phone back. "I sometimes forget how damn young you are. I don't feel that much older than you. I don't know if that's a testament to your maturity or my immaturity."

Just then my phone chimed. It was a text from Layla asking if I was okay. Shit. She'd expected me to return by now, and it was irresponsible of me not to have thought about checking in. But I had a habit of forgetting my head whenever I was with this man.

"Layla is asking why I haven't come back. What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Tell her you're with me," Tristan said matter-of-factly.

"Not sure I want to admit that. She'll get the wrong idea."

He arched a brow. "She'd be somewhat right about the wrong idea, though, wouldn't she?"

"I don't want anyone knowing my business."

"But you have to respond to her. Otherwise, she'll worry about you."

"She'll worry more if I tell her I'm in Tristan Daltrey's room."

"Ouch." He clutched his chest. "That hurts, but it's probably true."

I shot her a quick text saying I was safe and hanging out with people downstairs and she shouldn't wait up. It sounded shady as hell. I felt guilty for lying. "I should go back to my room, but I don't want to."

"I'm not gonna suggest you leave. If I had my way, you'd be on my bus and in my bed. Every damn night."

"Well, it's a good thing you don't call the shots-I do."

"That is a good thing. We definitely need someone who's thinking above the belt to make such decisions."

"You're assuming I'm not thinking below the belt?" I quipped.

"Tell me more," he said gruffly.

"You know how hot you are. I don't have to spell out why it's hard for me to resist you."

Lying on his stomach, he inched closer. "I get hard just looking at the little gap between your teeth. Everything about you excites me."

"The gap in my teeth?" I poked his shoulder with my index finger. "I hate it."

"It's one of my favorite things. Every time you open your pretty mouth, I want to lick a line across it."

My nipples hardened. "That's all you wanna do?"

"Fuck no, that's not all I wanna do. I want to do everything to you. That's the problem."

Feeling drunk off the intense way he looked at me, I knew I was in trouble again tonight. I was addicted to him in every way-not only physically but to the attention he always paid me. That addiction blurred the lines between right and wrong.

"I'm scared, Tristan," I blurted.

"I wish you weren't." He rubbed his finger along my arm. "Tell me what I can do to change that."

There was nothing he could do. I wanted to scream that he didn't know everything there was to know about me, he didn't know why I'd gone out to the desert that day. But I stopped myself. It wasn't the time for that conversation. It was never going to be the right time. And in the interim, I was losing the ability to control myself around him.

I wanted to have sex. My body was ready for everything with him. If he tried to go there, I wouldn't be able to resist. And that made me the most selfish person in the world.

I rubbed my thumb along the layer of scruff at his chin. He closed his eyes at my touch. Taking my hand in his, he kissed each of my fingers one by one. God, how I loved that. And when he looked up at me again with hooded, lust-filled eyes, I felt weaker by the second.

I reached out to massage his hair. "I wish I didn't love the way I feel every time you look at me. I'm headed for the biggest heartbreak of my life."

He frowned. "I know I told you not to trust me, but it was only a warning against things I might do to you that would actually feel good. Even if I cross the line, I'd only ever be making you feel good. I promise I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

He didn't understand that I had a much greater chance of hurting him than him ever hurting me.