Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)(69)

The quiet before the storm.

Chess. My best friend, the girl who decided to save one boy. Who did f*ckin’ save me.

Finally it was my turn. I’d waited for this moment. Dreamed about it. Prayed for it. Jesus. None of the money mattered. None of the houses or cars or trips. It was all to get here.

Underneath the truck, I saw her feet as she climbed out of the back. The doors slammed shut and latched, followed by a loud double knock on the back, and the truck rumbled away leaving a trail of dust behind it.

I stood waiting for the dust to settle. Waiting to see with my own eyes that she was alive. Our sporadic emails had been short, formal and gave me nothing of who she was now.

And nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

We were like an iceberg that had cracked and separated, floating on different currents until years later, the two pieces finally drifted back together and sealed perfectly.

That was us. Chess and I.

I’d imagined her. Every single f*ckin’ day I imagined her, thought about her. She was what drove me to succeed when all the odds were against a homeless boy with nothing but a handful of change and a cesspit full of nightmares.

For years I hadn’t even known if she were alive and there was no way for me to find out if they’d killed her or let her live. But it didn’t stop me. I knew about her brother, Kai, from that day at the farm when he approached us. Took me years to track him before I finally found him in Toronto.

I set myself up in the same city. Watched him. Made my money. Made my way in the world knowing that one day, I’d be standing here staring at the girl who risked everything for me.

I walked toward her and it was the longest walk of my life. She stood still, eyes narrowed, arms crossed and her body vibrating from the refrigerated truck.

“You broke the pact,” she blurted, lips quivering.

God, the sound of her voice was like sucking in fresh oxygen. All these years I’d been suffocating under a dark cloud, breathing in soiled air. But Chess standing a foot away, stiff, cold and trying to be stoic and brave, was like being woken up from a nightmare.

It was relief.

It was comfort.

It was finding colors in a world of grey.

“Chess.”

Her back straightened. “I was better on the inside. Now, we don’t have anyone.”

“Chess,” I repeated.

I stepped closer, so I was inches away. Her breathing was harsh and ragged as she stared up at me. She was trying so hard to be the tough one, just like she’d been at the farm. Always looking out for the younger kids, taking the blame for shit that went wrong. “No more, Francesca.” I used her full name because I was making it clear, she didn’t need to do this anymore.

“Damn it, Tristan, what about the farm? Kai doesn’t know anything yet and he killed Mother and the board will—”

“No!”

She stiffened and I raised my brows, daring her to continue with that line of thought. “You’re not being the sacrificial lamb, Chess. Not anymore. Now I have something to say about it.”

“But—”

I stepped in to her and cupped her chin. “No.” She shut her mouth. “We’ll find them. But not with you at risk. That’s done.”

“If the kids are killed because of this—”

“If they killed you because of this, how do you think that would’ve gone down with me? For once, stop thinking about the farm and think about yourself.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

Fuck. “I know, baby.” She couldn’t because she was afraid if she did, she’d fall apart.

A tear slipped down her cheek and contradicted her tense posture. “Fuck, Chess.” I went to pull her in to me when she tried to slip away. I caught her forearm then gently pushed her against the side of Kai’s car.

She looked at me, strands of hair lying across her face, her eyes blazing with determination. I closed my eyes as the wave of relief hit me full force.

“Chess,” I whispered. “God, Chess. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

We’d been connected by circumstance, me brought into Vault when I was eight, torn away from my family, scared and alone. And Chess… she’d taught me how to survive the farm. She’d been seven years old and I’d been a terrified eight-year-old screaming and crying for his mom, dad and sister.

“It’s time to end this.”

She looked at her feet and said quietly, “How can we end it, Tristan? How can it ever end?”

I slid my palms over her shoulders, down her arms, gently unfolded them then entwined our fingers. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “Because I need it to. Because I need you back and I’ll do anything to have you.”

Her breath hitched just before my mouth came down on hers. I’d never kissed her before, yet it was like finding home. It was never a place; home was a feeling. It was someone you held in your arms.

And for me, it was Chess.

Her quivering lips were cold, but within seconds, they were heated by my own as I kissed her. I felt the moment she gave in to me when her mouth opened and allowed me entrance as I tasted the sweetness of her. It was hard and unyielding then soft and gentle. It was discovery and a yearning for more.

I’d always loved her, but the physical hadn’t been there for either of us. Maybe we’d been too young. Maybe because of the situation we’d been in.