Page 32 of Absinthe Dreams
I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes again. This is the Trystan I missed so damn much, the one I've seen glimmers of over and over since he stopped feeling like mine. Maybe I had that wrong, and he was always mine, but for once, he actually feels like it. He's right here with me, fireflies all around us.
It feels like magic.
Tom is waiting atthe gate when we head home, holding hands.
Thanos tiptoes past him like usual. Trystan eyes the little dog like he expects him to sprout a second head or grow ten sizes in two seconds. I just laugh and kneel down, reaching through the gate to scratch his fluffy head.
"Hey, sweet boy," I coo at him. "Have you been terrorizing the neighborhood again?"
"Fuck yeah," Trystan mutters.
Tom just yips at me, prancing in excited circles.
"You gotta be nice to my friend here, okay?" I murmur to him. "He's more afraid of you than you are of him."
Trystan grumbles wordlessly.
"Don't be too hard on him, all right?" I stroke a finger down Tom's head. "He'll learn to behave soon."
Tom prances in another circle, glances at Trystan, yips, and then takes off toward the front porch. Before I even manage to stand again, he's in the window, his little tongue hanging out.
"Jesus Christ," Trystan whispers, shaking his head. "You're the goddamn Chihuahua Whisperer."
"You just have to know how to talk to him," I say, smiling. "The world is intimidating when everything is bigger than you are. You gotta get down on his level."
Trystan snorts like he thinks I'm full of shit, and we continue toward Wyatt's. "You called me your friend."
"What?" I ask as we pass through the gate.
"You told Tom that I'm your friend."
"So?" I glance over at him, not understanding the problem. "Did you want me to tell him that you had your hand around my throat while you were fucking me senseless a few hours ago instead? I mean, I can go back and correct the record…" I turn like I'm going to do exactly that, but Trystan grabs me.
"That's not what I meant, smartass," he growls, unable to hide his smile. "I meant that's the first time you've called me your friend in years."
"No, it isn't."
"Yeah, it is. The first time you came home from college, you introduced me to your friends at work as 'my brother's friend, Trystan,'" he says, using air quotes. "And you never really stopped referring to me that way after that."
"Oh." I bite my lip. "Maybe I thought it was easier than explaining that you were the guy who used to chase fireflies withme before you decided to start treating me more like someone you got to dictate to rather than someone with her own mind."
He flinches. "You really think that?"
"I…I don't know," I admit. "I don't understand why you started being so bossy. It's like, once you realized I was a girl, you just changed." I meet his gaze. "I never understood why."
"I knew I didn't feel the same way about you that I did anyone else," he mutters, leaning against the fence. "But I didn't realize what that meant until you were thirteen. When you got here that summer, you looked so fucking beautiful. I realized, as you were running to me, that you weren't a little girl anymore. You were this fucking beautiful little goddess who had my stomach in knots." He shrugs. "And I knew I probably wasn't the only one. It made me crazy to think about anyone else seeing what I did." He sighs, shoving a hand through his hair. "I acted like a jealous asshole because I didn't want anyone else to see you the way I did. I wanted you to be just mine."
"You could have told me that," I point out.
"I thought I was the only one who felt it," he mutters. "I didn't want to lose you entirely, so I just didn't say anything. By the time I realized I needed to say something, there was a chasm between us. I didn't know how to bridge that gap, princess. And honestly? I was fucking terrified that, if I tried, I'd lose you entirely. I thought you hated me. I didn't want to add more fuel to the fire by telling you that I was crazy about you when you couldn't stand me."
"I never hated you, Trystan. I didn't understand you."
"I was an asshole back then."
"Back then?" I quirk a brow at him. "Uh, I hate to break it to you, but you've been the same demanding jerk for a decade."
"Maybe I've been jealous for a decade, Coco," he says softly, completely serious. "Maybe the thought of you with anyone else has been eating me alive since I was fifteen years old. Youweren't mine, and I fucking hated it. I hated that you were mad at me, but if that was the only part of you I got to have, I wanted it, even if it meant forcing myself into your space and making you see me. Even if it meant pissing you off so you'd speak to me. Having those pieces of you was better than not having any of you because so long as I had your anger, I knew you still felt something for me."
