“Just looking,” he answered.
“These are private.”
He nodded, leaving a beat of silence in case she wanted to continue. She didn’t.
“You drew these?”
Josie nodded.
“You don’t know who they are, do you?” he asked.
Her scowl disappeared as she shifted from foot to foot. She refused to meet his eyes.
“No, but I dream about them. I see nothing else when I sleep. Just these faces,” she answered, pressing her palm to her forehead.
Tristan walked to her and pulled her inside the room. He placed Josie in front of his body, facing the middle of the largest wall.
“This,” he said, pointing to the wild-haired boy, “is me.” Josie gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Your shading is amazing, you even included my eyebrow scar.” Tristan took a step sideways and brought Josie with him. “This one here is your mom. She was always laughing like that. The one above her is your dad. He was the chief of police in Gretna.”
Tristan glanced over her shoulder to see her trembling fingers still covering her mouth and her other arm wrapped around her waist. He slid his hands around her, holding Josie to his chest for support. Even though she had no conscious recollection of her childhood, she’d always had these faces with her. After a minute of silence and stuttered breaths, she finally spoke.
“She was beautiful,” Josie said, running her fingers over her mother’s face.
“Yes, she was.”
“I can’t believe my dad had that beard,” she said finally, smiling as her eyes scanned the drawings. “I look like him.”
Tristan squeezed her tighter in confirmation. Josie took a step closer to Tristan’s sketch now, scrutinizing the curve of his chin and weight of his smile.
“I should have seen it sooner. Your smile is just the same,” she whispered.
Tristan kissed the side of her neck and she hummed in satisfaction. Josie spun in his arms and kissed his lips. She lacked the verbal ability to thank him otherwise, so she stuck to what she was good at, pouring all of herself into that kiss.
It had never felt like this for either of them, and somehow they knew that it never would again. When the intensity became overwhelming, they pulled away.
“Tell me about the rest of them,” she said.
He nodded and pointed her back toward the wall.
An hour later, after each drawing had been identified, they emerged. Josie felt lighter, like her shoulders could stand a little taller now. These faces had haunted her for so long she’d begun to resent them. But not anymore. Now she knew these were the people who had been most important to her. These had been the ones to love her, to mold her and, in Tristan’s case, eventually to mourn her. It had always felt like Josie versus the world, but in reality she’d never been alone.
They huddled around the room-temperature pizza and ate until they were satisfied. Josie led Tristan back to the couch, where she curled her knees up to her chest and tucked her toes beneath his thigh.
“This is a first, you know,” Josie said.
“What?”
“Having someone sleep at my place, and,” she paused, feeling a bit embarrassed by her lifestyle for the first time, “waking up with someone I didn’t have sex with.”
“Well, I’ve read that cuddling is more important than the act of sex. It’s more intimate and relaxing, opening people up for more honest bonding.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, I don’t buy it either,” Tristan said, smiling at her.
“We could change that, you know,” she suggested.
She ran her hand up his thigh with a feather-light touch. Scratching her nails up the seam of his zipper, Josie was pleased with the deep moan Tristan let out.
“Josie.”
“I want you, Tristan,” she purred.
His hand clamped over hers when she reached for his belt buckle. Tristan surprised himself with the amount of restraint he possessed.
“I want you too. I do. But not until you’re ready.”
Josie frowned at him.
“Oh, I’m ready. I’m always ready.”
“That’s the problem,” he said. “I’m not going to let you use sex to distract from what is really happening here.”
“What exactly is happening here?”
Tristan didn’t answer her with words. He simply smiled and laced his fingers through hers. He knew she couldn’t handle any big declarations or stark truths.
Josie released his hand and scraped around her cuticles, trying to remove the charcoal dust. She ignored the paint flecks dotting her nails.
“Tell me something that only I would know,” she demanded.
Tristan knew exactly what she meant. He looked into her shining eyes and thought it over. Memories flooded his mind and he scrolled through them quickly, finding the perfect one to share.
“I saved you from drowning once.”
“What?” Her eyes grew large and she gestured wildly for him to continue.
“We were at the lake behind my house, walking on the pier, when you tripped and fell in. You must have hit your head or something, because you didn’t come up. I panicked and jumped in, somehow finding your arm beneath the water. It was freezing and I struggled for a few minutes to drag you out. You weren’t breathing. So I started CPR. After a few forced breaths, you started choking and sputtering water. I carried you back to my house and gave you some of my clothes while I threw yours in the dryer. We never told anyone.”
Josie wiggled her toes beneath the weight of his leg and smiled.
“How did you know CPR?” she asked.
“My father’s a doctor. Dr. Daniel Fallbrook always liked to make me a shining example of his abilities.”
“Lucky me,” she said.
“Lucky me,” he repeated.
Silence enveloped them as they sat in the afterglow of bygone days. Tristan loved how it was so quiet here, nothing to distract them from each other. Josie sighed and looked at the clock on her wall, wondering how much longer she could have him.
“We got into a fight the next day because you considered the CPR your first kiss and I argued that it was only a medical procedure,” Tristan continued, laughing at the memory. “You were so stubborn. I shut you up.”
“How?”
“I kissed you and told you that was your real first kiss. You didn’t argue.”
Josie ducked her head, blushing at his devilish smirk. Tristan had a way of dissolving her tough exterior, revealing glimpses of the adolescent girl inside.
She started at his wrist and traced a line up his arm until the art disappeared beneath his sleeve. She loved following the paths across his skin, wondering where she’d end up. Her fingers ghosted over traditional tattoo flash such as spider webs and harsh red flames before tracing the gray bark of a large oak tree.
“What is this one for?” she asked, pointing to the image on the inside of his forearm.
“It’s a tree in my yard back home that you and I practically lived in. It was always where we’d go to play and hang out. Later, we would climb up there to spy on my neighbors or make out.”
Josie’s fingertip moved over the twisting limbs as though she could feel the scratchy bark beneath her touch.
“This was for us,” Josie stated, gesturing toward the art.
“For you,” Tristan corrected, picturing her laughing face covered with dots of light and shadows beneath the branches of their tree.
She lay her head down on her knees. Josie knew that she was venturing into unknown territory with Tristan. She felt the kindness in his eyes. The way he offered himself up made her want to fall apart with unworthiness. Wrapped in the cocoon of her apartment, it would be easy to get lost in his memories