Authors: Carlene Love Flores
“He’s there, waiting up for you.
And hopes that you’ll come
to him.”
She processed it, again not believing
entirely that this was happening.
What
had changed his mind?
What had steered
him back to her?
Didn’t he know he’d
escaped the madness and should stay gone?
Why was he heading straight back into the storm?
Was he crazy?
Her thoughts volleyed from needing him
back—to prove she hadn’t dreamed up the past few weeks and what they’d
shared—to preserving his goodness for someone who deserved it more than
her.
Oh god, that hurt.
But she couldn’t have his pure, good soul
around her night after night.
He
wouldn’t last.
“Ben, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Oh, no.
I really feel like I’ve already done
enough.
I like Lucky and I love you like
a sister, but I really think you two
need
to talk this
out.
He wants to apologize, Trista.
You should at least hear him out.”
Ben’s shoulders tensed and he pretended to
dig in his vest pockets for something.
“Ben, if you really care about me, and I
know you do, then you will do this for me.
Please tell Lucky that I accept his apology, that he owes me nothing,
and that I want him to go back home.”
“Oh no.
Come on, Tris.
Don’t make me do this.”
She looked him in the eye.
But, if she had to blink or move any part of
her face to say her point again, she’d lose it, here in front of all these
guys, the ones she was trying desperately to play it cool with.
Ben put a soothing hand on top of hers
where it sat on her lap.
“Okay, please
don’t cry.
You know I can’t handle
that.”
She sniffed then let her head fall to his
shoulder again.
Her stupid tears seeped
through his vest and t-shirt.
Where was
that damned boring predictability when she needed it?
Trista sat safely in her room on the
decadently draped bed dressed in a down-filled comforter and corner-tasseled
spread.
She picked up the mint that lay
at the base of the pillow closest to her.
And left the other one there, untouched.
Assumptions didn’t normally affect her,
but this companion mint did.
Ben should have delivered her message by
now that she didn’t want Lucky waiting around for something that wasn’t
coming.
She
unwrapped
the silver foil and then thought better of it, placing the chocolaty mint on
the nightstand instead of her undeserving tongue.
Fluorescent green numbers made like a
tiny strobe light from the alarm clock to the wall.
Yeah, it was late.
No doubt Lucky’d been given the message and
had given up and gone home.
She should
be asleep.
The light to her bathroom vanity had been
left on and turned to low by the staff, an offer of ambience to inspire
tranquility.
Yeah, like that was
possible.
She’d have gotten up to turn
it off but feared discovering they’d drawn
her a
warm
bath.
That would have been the perfect
way to drown her sorrows and also a little too convenient for someone feeling
as low as she did.
So instead she sat
there on the corner of her bed.
Her
elbows dug painfully into her knees under the weight of her heavy head.
She started to cry.
* * * *
“What do you mean she’s not coming,
Ben?
Did you tell her I just wanted—
”
Ben held up both hands like stop signs
then shoved his dangling hair behind his ears.
“I told her, Lucky.
Every word.
She said
to tell you that she accepts your apology and that you should go back
home.
I’m sorry, man.
Look, I really like you, I think you’re a
good guy but she’s hurt.”
His hope flickered just above the layer
of his heart aching for the pain he’d caused.
“What room is she in, Ben?” he pressed.
“I can’t tell you that, Lucky.”
“Ben, I need you to hear me out on
this.
I know I screwed up.
I just want to tell her, face to face, how
sorry I am.
I can’t leave things like this.”
“Dude, unfortunately, I think it’s too
late.”
Tension laced with some furious
frustration jabbed the space between his eyes.
He rubbed his face trying to massage some of it away.
“Ben, I need to know her room number.
Come on.
I swear
,
I’ll knock on every door of this floor
until I find her.”
Ben’s eyes widened again, somehow finding
new ways to look horrified.
“Shit.
What if I tell you Jaxon’s room?
Maybe you could go talk to him and the two of you could work something
out.”
“Yeah, because that’s
gone so well up to this point.
Let’s say he doesn’t want me anywhere near her.
I still have to go banging on doors until I
find her and now your boss knows all about it.
Come on, Ben, help me out here.
I
swear, I’ll never ask you for another favor as long as I live.”
It wasn’t right to use these scare tactics on
the poor guy but desperation had set in, big time.
He did his best to soften his approach and
tone.
“Please.
I love her.”
“You know, she might be asleep, might not
bother coming to the door.
If that
happens, I’m out of this.”
“So you’re going to help me?”
Ben’s gaze darted down to his Doc Marten
shoe as he sighed.
“Come on, let’s get
this over with.”
He grabbed his guitar by the neck and
shadowed Ben down the hallway to their left.
When they turned the corner, Ben asked, “What’s with the guitar?”
He tried to ignore the comment as he
already felt foolish and completely out of his league.
“Are we close?”
They stopped in front of room 2152.
He had to trust Ben hadn’t led him to Jaxon’s
or Stefan’s room.
No, Ben had more
self-preservation than that.
This had to
be Trista’s.
“Thank you.”
“All right, I’m out of here.”
But then came a warning.
“Don’t hurt her.
I don’t care what you have to do and I don’t
care about your pride or your need to hear her say she forgives you in
person.
If she can’t do it, just leave
it at that.”
“I promise you, Ben, I’ll never hurt her
again.”
Ben huffed out a breath then left the way
they’d just come.
When Ben had turned the corner and was
out of sight, he knocked lightly on the door.
A lesser man would have hid from the peephole.
But Trista deserved to see who was here and
make her choice whether to open up or not.
There was no answer and so he knocked
again in a subtle one two, one two…one, two, three tap.
* * * *
Trista didn’t bother checking to see who
it was.
She knew the one two, one two…
one, two, three like she knew the sound of her own bludgeoned but still beating
heart.
She hoped Jaxon didn’t wanna
talk.
Maybe the camouflage to hide her
dark circles had been in vain and he was here to sing her to sleep.
She needed to sleep.
Still in her clothes from the show, she
wearily undid the deadbolt, opening it without looking up.
The toes of the boots were not big, black
and round.
Nor were they
steel-toed.
They were triangular, and
the legs were longer and leaner.
By the
time she’d brought her eyes up, all the way up past the un-tucked black silk of
his shirt, skimming over the red detail of small roses and swirling lines that
rested near his shoulders, all she could do was stare in disbelief.
After a couple minutes had awkwardly
passed, Lucky pulled up a guitar to his chest.
He held it without a strap, cradled it by the neck, and strummed to find
the key.
She still couldn’t as much as wiggle her
toes.
Lucky’s fingers plucked at the strings
and then he began to sing.
Probably
quite a bit of this unfamiliar song but it had taken her a few moments to
resuscitate her heart.
The first thing
her ears registered was,
“If only you
knew, if only you knew.”
Avoiding his eyes, she focused on his
hands but their beauty hurt just as much.
His voice cracked but still singing, he let the guitar drop down to his
side.
“Your smile
is the only one that ever meant anything to me.
I’ll go on living without it; if that’s the way it has to be.
But I don’t want to.
No, I don’t want to.”
He bowed his head as he set the guitar down
on the floor in her doorway and held out his hand to her.
Oh no, no
touching.
That would kill me
.
“Trista, I know I don’t have the right to
be here, asking you this after the way I treated you.
I know you don’t want to see me; Ben gave me
your message.”
A mix of hurt and shock held her tongue
back like trembling weak claws that knew they must strike to stay alive but
were too kind to pull it off.
“Then why
are you here?”
“I owe you an apology.”
She aimed a fierce, trembling finger at
him and heaved back the feelings his song had forced her to feel.
“No, I don’t need any more apologies, from
anyone.
I’m so sick of them…Why are you
here, Lucky?
What do you want?”
He stepped forward and she edged
back.
“I want to ask you to give me
another chance.”
“Another chance at
what?”
“At being together.”
She slunk back even further from the
entryway, never having taken his outstretched hand.
Lucky
Mason does not belong in your world.
He
does not belong to you.
“Why?”
She turned away and walked over to her bed.
Of course he followed her.
The heavy door thunked loudly and closed
behind them.
They were alone, in this
magnificent room, together.
It didn’t matter.
“I admit it; I was stupid and
afraid…”
Stupid and afraid?
He’d
never been that way with her
.
“Don’t,
Lucky. Whatever it is that’s eating you up right now, I can’t hear it.”
Why was he looking at her like that?
She’d memorized all his quirks and this one
didn’t fit.
He’d never scratched the
side of his neck like that and he’d never darted his eyes side to side.
He’d done something he felt terrible
about.
Had it been Jaxon, she’d have
known an apology for letting her down, usually something stemming from Vangie’s
jealousy, was on its way out of his mouth.
Had it been Ben, she’d have known it’d be something trivial; the boy
felt badly about everything.
With
Stefan, it would’ve been him asking her to forgive his tardiness but that she’d
have understood had she seen the red head with non-stop legs he’d had to
leave.
But this was Lucky and she had to admit
that her history with him was too short to know for sure.
Either he still felt bad for leaving, or he
had gone and done something that a southern gentleman would regret.
Shit.
He’d probably slept with someone.
The deeper the skin between her eyebrows puckered, the more he avoided
her gaze.