“Oh, well that’s too bad.” His statement was so unconvincing that I had to make an effort not to laugh.
“Not an Andrew fan?”
He gave me a rueful smile, his brown eyes so endearing. I could tell he was about to say something funny. I just knew him that well. “That’s like asking if I’m a fan of cancer. I fucking hate it, but do I know how to get rid of it? Not fucking likely.”
That surprised one small giggle out of me. “Oh my God. Stop it. You’re impossible.”
His focus shifted to something behind me, and I turned to look. In an almost comical manner, everyone seemed to be staring in our direction, all gone quiet. No one was used to seeing us interact with each other like normal human beings.
“We should really blow their minds and start making out,” he whispered.
I laughed again and had to check the urge to give his arm a playful punch. “You’re an ass. Shut up,” I told him.
His smile grew and his eyes shone in pleasure, like I’d just given him a gift.
CHAPTER NINE
THE WEDDING RECEPTION OF JAMES AND BIANCA CAVENDISH
“That motherfucker is even bigger than you,” shot out of my mouth as Tristan took his seat beside me.
He gave me one quick look and then looked at Akira, but that look told me plenty of things that I’d rather not have known. For starters, my statement came out sassier than I’d intended, and Tristan still loved my sassy. In fact, he ate it up. His gaze had been hot and…something else that I didn’t want to name.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he said idly, taking a sip of water. “That giant bastard is taken.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “I know that. He’s married to a supermodel. I was just saying…it must be weird for you, usually the biggest guy in the room, having to look up at somebody. And his biceps are even a bit wider than yours…”
His breath whooshed out in a surprised laugh. “You and your big arm fetish. Mine are still bigger than your waist. They haven’t gotten any smaller.”
I didn’t let myself look at them, but it was a struggle. And I’d looked enough already to know that he was right.
Absently, I rubbed at my bad knee under the table.
I felt him staring at me.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly, as though he couldn’t help himself.
I made my face into a very careful mask. “It’s fine, just a bit stiff. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
Nothing on earth could have shocked me more than when his hand touched my leg, sliding under my hand to rub at my knee, somehow knowing just where to touch to ease the ache. He’d always had a special talent for that.
“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth. We’d been getting along for days, but this was too much, too far.
He didn’t even flinch away from the look of murder I sent him, the bold bastard. “I’m just trying to help,” he said, deadly earnest.
“I don’t need your help.” My tone was venomous.
He didn’t stop rubbing, still didn’t flinch away. Over the last six years, it had been way too easy to get him to back off, and I found that I had no clue what to do when my venom didn’t push him away.
“I know that. Believe me, I know it. But what if I need to give it?”
“We’re at the wedding of two people I adore, so I will be civil for about ten more seconds, but you had better believe that—”
“What about friendship? Can we just try that? No funny business, I swear.”
I felt so stiff, and I knew hostility was radiating off me in waves.
Frankie caught my eye, her arm around her girl. This was a wedding, a joyous occasion, and her concerned look swayed me. She was worried I’d cause a scene, and it hurt me that she was right to be worried.
I’m more mature than this, I told myself. And hell, why couldn’t we be friends? I didn’t think he was attracted to me anymore. I knew that what he wanted really was just friendship and forgiveness, so why couldn’t I just give that to him? Why did I feel the need to shut him out completely?
I knew the answer. I was like a wounded animal, lashing out at his indifference, which had become the cause of my pain.
“No funny business?” I asked, then spoke again before he could answer. “I actually believe that now. I didn’t figure you were into cripples.”
His hand dropped limply from my knee.
I got a look at his face, right before his gaze dropped down to the table, and instantly regretted saying something so ugly.
Whatever his feelings for me had turned into, I still had the power to wound him deeply.
“I’m sorry,” I told him quickly.
I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a furious looking Frankie.
She sat on Tristan’s other side, giving me a hostile look that I’d never have figured she’d direct at me.
“You okay?” she asked Tristan, her hand going to his arm.
He nodded shortly, stood up, and strode away.
“When are you going to stop hurting him? When is it going to be enough for you? You wanted him punished; he’s been through hell. What more do you want?”
Part of me was livid about every word that came out of her mouth, but another part, the part that wouldn’t shut up today, knew she had a point. I had been punishing him; for six years I’d been punishing him, and it had gotten out of hand.
She stood, and I knew that it was to go after him, to make sure he was okay.
I stopped her with a grip on her hand. “I’ve got this,” I told her, standing. “You’ve got some best man duties to attend to.”
“Please, Danika. You don’t have to take him back, but please, just be kind to him. He’s been through enough. You both have. You’re hurting yourself with this bullshit, too, you know?”
I knew it. I let my eyes show her that as I nodded.
I found him walking aimlessly through the woods, somewhere between the wedding tents and the fortress of a building that James called a ‘house.’
“Tristan,” I called out loudly.
He froze. He didn’t turn around, just stopped.
I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his arm.
“I’m sorry I said that. It was an ugly thing to say, and I didn’t even mean it. You know how I am. I can never seem to keep things to myself, and sometimes they come out worse than I mean them.”
“You’ve been pretty good at keeping things to yourself for a very long time.”
My eyebrows shot straight up. He had a point. I had gotten better at holding my tongue, but I couldn’t quite decipher what his tone meant.
“That’s true. I’ve grown up. But what I said back there wasn’t grown up, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t have a grudge against you. I really have gotten over our…history together, and I think you’re right. There’s no reason that we can’t be friends again.”
“Thank you.” His voice was low and hoarse, his head tilted forward. Even in the semi-darkness, I could see that his eyes stayed on the ground.
There was something so defeated in his stance, something so hopeless in his voice that I couldn’t seem to help myself, I hugged him. For comfort, for support. Whether it was for him or me or both of us, I didn’t dare contemplate.
I had to stand up on my tiptoes to get my arms around his neck, and that was with him slouched down.
He was stiff as a corpse for about ten seconds before he reacted, his arms squeezing me so hard that I let out a grunt as all of the air was pushed out of me.
He eased up, and I took a few breaths before relaxing into him.
My body seemed to take over, because touching him brought back so many sensory memories. We were a train wreck, he and I, but something about touching him had always just felt right to me.