Frayed (Torn #2)(16)

I checked the water’s temperature before I ordered her to jump in the shower. My annoyance jumped another notch when Trista glared at me. “Get in the damn shower, or I’ll haul you in there myself. You choose.” My voice was deadly and she knew I would carry out the threat if she wasn’t going to comply.

“You stupid son of a mother f*uker!” she outraged. I didn’t leave the bathroom until I saw her get in it. I left the bathroom door slightly ajar, not willing to risk her life again. I’m not going to take any chances this time. If I had to watch her like a hawk then so be it. Her broken heart be damned.

I retreated for a quick shower of my own. I made sure to fetch a few bottled waters in the kitchen. I placed a couple on her side table. Before retreating to check her, my eyes darted at the luggage that sat openly on the floor. I freely browsed through it until I found her soft, cotton , slip-on nightwear. “Are you done?” I called out after a few knocks on the bathroom door.

“I am.”

My hand slipped inside the door and handed her the scrap of cloth. Her soft hands yanked it from me. That feisty gesture made me smirk. After a minute, she came out with towel - dried hair, wearing that skimpy, sexy, night dress. My gaze moved away from her body. The man in me easily found her body attractive, but reason and propriety won over. Grabbing one of the bottled waters, I broke the lid open and handed it to her, not muttering anything. Trista gulped down half the bottle, thirsty as hell. “I’m going to bed. I, uh, thanks.”

What was the proper reply to that? You’re welcome, as long as you don’t do it again?

I rounded the bed and gestured for her to get in. She cautiously slipped in the sheets, her green eyes not leaving mine. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to sleep here, too?” she asked when I didn’t move to exit her room.

“I’d be more comfortable knowing that you’re safe. The only way to achieve that is to sleep here.” I briskly moved towards the other side of the bed. I slid inside the sheets and turned to my side. Sleep was out of the question tonight.

Trista was very still, not one movement came from her. After half an hour or so, I heard her speak. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?” her voice was scratchy and wobbly at the same time.

I had never planned to, unless she made another attempt, but this woman needed to understand how massive this responsibility on my shoulders really was. “I won’t, as long as you behave yourself. I will be keeping a close eye on you, just so we’re clear.” I was not going to have her die on my watch. That’s inconceivable. I heard her reply a small ‘yeah’ after a few minutes.

Good, like I would accept anything other than her agreement.

“Taylor?” Trista asked again after a long stretch of silence.

My thoughts were still back in the events that took place a couple hours ago. The image of her pale, lifeless body floating—slowly sinking in the sea—played havoc in my mind. “Hmm?” I stayed put on my side. I was still extremely furious at her.

Her shallow breathing was pronounced. “I hadn’t planned on it… all I wanted was to have a quick swim… but when I got underwater…” Trista paused. I could easily hear her swallow. She sounded like her actions had shocked her, too. “I remember the feeling of surrender… and I felt at peace about it.”

If it were another guy in here with her, he would most likely coddle her and try to give little assurances, but I wasn’t that kind of a man. I believed in fighting for reason, for truth, to free one’s self from lies. Life was hard, so one must play hardball. Fight it tooth and nail. Courage, it’s the best therapy to give oneself. “I may understand the full capacity of your situation, Trista, but you must see how cowardly your actions were. If a person gives up every time shit is thrown their way, the human race wouldn’t have survived. You have to learn how to fight—physically, emotionally, mentally. Face it bravely, even if the pain is too great, the consequences too frightening. At the end of the day, the only thing that counts is how much you’ve made a difference—progress. Fighting it is progressive. Fighting is reason.”

When I didn’t hear her, I assumed she fell asleep. So, I shifted a little to get more comfortable and rolled on my back—arms folded behind my head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“You know, for a pretty boy, you’re insightful and sharp. I thought all your studying law talk, was well, all talk,” she murmured, shifting on her side.

From my peripheral vision, I could see she was looking at me, but I didn’t move from my current position. “They did tell you not to judge the book by its cover, right? Now be a good girl and sleep. The island of Ios awaits.”





Chapter 8


Trista


I was jolted awake when I heard a light slam of what sounded like the front door. It was probably Emma, off to work. My face contorted when a migraine gave me immediate whiplash.

I managed to spring my eyes open and found myself looking at Taylor’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his face looking a little tired. His hazel eyes scanned my face.

“Migraine, it just came out of nowhere,” I mumbled and started to close my eyes again. I didn’t want to keep looking at him. The feeling of shame, guilt and embarrassment of what took place last night came back with a vengeance.