Wreck Me (Nova #4)(30)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

Shit. What am I going to do?

It’s starting all over again.

“So I have to ask you a question,” Tristan says as he pops a cigarette between his lips and pats his pockets for a lighter.

A cloud of smoke circles my face as I exhale. “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like this question?”

He finds his lighter in his back pocket then flicks the top and burns the end of his cigarette. “Because you probably won’t. It’s a little personal.”

I frown as I ash my cigarette on the asphalt. “Do we really have to do this? You know we could always keep tiptoeing around it like we have been.”

He stares at the end of the alley. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, but I need to ask.”

I suck a slow inhale from the cigarette and trap the smoke in my lungs for as long as possible just to avoid answering him. “What do you want to know?”

Smoke swirls through the air as he removes the cigarette from his lips. “I want to know what happened with Conner and why he was here today.”

My head slumps forward and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I knew you were going to ask that.”

“You don’t have to answer, but that night… Well, it’s kind of been haunting me, especially because I never really got to talk to you about what went on and I wasn’t sure if you, you know, were in trouble or something.”

“Not anymore,” I utter quietly.

He pauses. “Is he… I mean, I know he’s your ex-husband, but how?”

I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. He’s getting too close to the truth. “How what?”

“How did that happened?” he asks. “I mean he seems so… And you seem so…”

I sigh, elevating my head and looking at him through the dark. Streams of light surround us from the nearby lamppost and the moonlight cast shadows across his features. “He wasn’t always that way. He’s been my ex-husband for a little over two years.” I sketch my fingertip along the finger that once had a ring on it. I swear I can still see the tan line there, like it wasn’t two years ago when I last wore it. “And he showed up here today, but it was while I wasn’t around, so I didn’t see him.”

“You’ve been divorced for two years.” He’s stunned beyond shock. “How old were you when you got married?”

There you go. Be put off. You just made this easier on me.

“Seventeen,” I say, staring up at the night sky and the stars. I puff on my cigarette, dragging out time, unwilling to offer him the reason why we got married so young, unwilling to tell him about Mason. The last thing I want to do is get Mason involved in this… whatever this is—I’m not really sure yet.

Tristan restlessly drums his fingers on the side of his leg. “I don’t really blame you for divorcing him after what I saw that night.”

If only he knew how insignificant that night was compared to the shit that went on. Toward the end was the worst.

Toward the end is when he broke me.

And then I nearly broke myself.

“Yeah, he’s kind of an asshole.” I smile stiffly. “Which is why I try to avoid him with a restraining order I’ve had on him for months.”

He struggles with what to say next. Pour guy. He walked straight into that mess that night three months ago, not even knowing what he was getting into, just like he’s doing now.

“You know, we can go back inside if you want.” I give him an out from the seemingly painful conversation.

He stares down at his half-smoked cigarette in his hand, the cherry glowing brightly against the night. When he looks up at me again, something crosses his expression that I don’t recognize. “You know it wasn’t the first time, right?”

“The first time what?”

“That I’ve had a knife pulled on me.”

I’m not sure if he said it to make me feel better about my dark past or not, but I kind of do and kind of like him for it. Another brownie point for him. Jesus, he’s tallying them up quickly.

“When? I mean, when else did you have a knife pulled on you?”

He cups his hand around his side where Conner cut him that night with a knife. “A few times actually… during drug deals and shit.”

“How are you doing with that stuff?” When Tristan winces, I add, “Or is that too personal of a question for me to be asking?”

“No… it’s okay. I asked you stuff so it’s only fair you should get to ask me.” He sucks in another lengthy drag from his cigarette then smoke eases from his lips. “I’ve been clean since that thing with you and I happened. But when I went home…” He shakes his head. “I almost fucked up several times and still feel like I’m going to slip up every single day.”

“That’s good, though, that you haven’t slipped up. And that you’re trying to stay sober.”

“Don’t get too excited. I’ve tried to stay clean a lot of times already.”

“So, at least you try,” I tell him because he looks so dejected. It’s a side of him I’ve never witnessed before and I find myself wanting to explore it—to help him feel better. “Some people don’t even get that far.”

He gives me a blank stare. “How many times did it take you to get clean?”

I shrug, scuffing my boot against the asphalt. “Just once, but I had huge reasons to get my shit together.”

He waits for me to explain further, but I’m not going to. The reasons are too personal and honestly I’m kind of ashamed of the person I was two and a half years ago. That weak woman. Unstable. Just like my mother. That for a while I turned out to be everything I never wanted to be.

“You know, I thought about getting your phone number that next morning,” he says. “But settled on writing you the note instead. Figured it might be better.”

“I’m going to agree with you on that one. It’s probably for the best that you didn’t find me after that night.” I drop my cigarette to the ground and put it out with the tip of my boot. “Because I broke my rule with you and that was the only time I ever have.”

He grazes his thumb along the bottom of his cigarette, knocking the ash off. “The no guy rule?”

I nod, inching toward the door with every intention of leaving because this conversation is getting way too heavy and deep. “That kiss was never supposed to happen. And not because I’m hung up on my ex-husband or anything. It’s just…” I trail off and then clear my throat, not wanting to go any further. “But, yeah, like I said, I should have never kissed you. It was very wrong of me to kiss you when I’ve made a vow never to be with any guy again.”