The Air He Breathes (Elements, #1)(68)

That night, I sat on my bed with my cell phone in my hand, and I called my Dad. I didn’t say a word when he answered, but hearing his voice was good. It was needed.

“Tristan,” he said. I could almost hear the relief in his tones. “Hey, Son. Mom said you called her a while back and didn’t speak. She was also convinced that she ran into you when she went to Meadows Creek to see the market, but I thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.” He paused. “You’re not going to talk, are you?” He paused again. “That’s fine. I’ve always been a bit of a talker.”

That was a lie—Dad had always been the quiet one of my parents, much more of a listener. I put the phone on speaker and lay back on my bed, closing my eyes as Dad caught me up on everything I’d missed. “Your grandparents are in town staying with your mom and me, and I think it’s safe to say they are driving me crazy. They are having their house remodeled, and your mom thought it would be a good idea to have them stay at our place. They’ve been here for three weeks already, and I’ve been through more gin than I thought humanly possible.

“Oh! And your mom somehow talked me into taking a workout class with her because she worries about my healthy diet of Doritos and soda. So I showed up to the class—turned out I was the only man there. I ended up doing Zumba for an hour straight. Lucky for me my hips don’t lie and I was a natural.”

I snickered.

He talked to me late into the night as I moved from room to room, listening to him tell me stories, listening to him talk about sports and how the Packers were still the top team in the NFL. At one point he cracked open a beer, and I opened one too. It almost felt as if we were drinking together.

When it was past midnight, he told me he needed to get to bed. He told me he loved me and would always be on the other end of the line if I ever just needed someone to talk my way.

Right before I went to hang up, my lips parted. “Thanks, Dad.”

I heard his voice crack and emotion take over him. “Anytime, Son. Call whenever you need to, day or night. And when you’re ready to come back, we’ll be here. We’ll be right here when you’re ready. We’re not going anywhere.”

The world needed more parents like mine.





Chapter Thirty-Six


Elizabeth



“You have four seconds to open this door before I come busting in to find you, woman!” Faye shouted on my front porch. When I opened the door, she gasped. “For the love of God, when was the last time you showered?”

I was wearing pajamas, my hair was in the messiest bun of the century, and my eyes were swollen. I raised my arm a little and smelled my underarm. “I put on deodorant.”

“Oh, honey.” She frowned, stepping into my living room. “Where’s Emma?”

“Friday night sleepover,” I explained, plopping down on the couch.

“What’s going on, Liz? Your boyfriend came into the café saying you haven’t been talking to him. Did he hurt you?”

“What? No. He’s…he’s perfect.”

“Then why the silent treatment? Why do you look like a homeless person?” She sat down next to me.

“Because I can’t talk to him anymore. I can’t be with him.” I went on to tell her about the accident, to explain why things with Tristan couldn’t work out. The seriousness that filled her stare was something I didn’t get often from Faye, which attested to how serious and real the situation was.

“Sweetie, you have to tell him. He’s falling apart trying to figure out what he did wrong.”

“I know. It’s just…I love him. And I know because of this, I’ll lose him.”

“Listen, I don’t know much about love, and when my heart was broken, I threw shit. Literally threw shit. After I got done throwing the shit, I was still heartbroken and sad. Someone told me that the heartbreak was worth it, because in the end at least you got to experience the love.”

I nodded and lay down, my head in her lap. “When does life stop hurting?”

“When we learn to tell life to f*ck off and we find the littlest reasons to smile.”

“I’m sorry Matty broke your heart.”

She shrugged, pulling my hair tie out of my hair before starting to comb her fingers through it. “It’s okay. He only cracked it a little. So, what are we going to do for the rest of the night? We can be totally girly and watch The Notebook or some shit, or…we can order pizza, get some beer, and watch Magic Mike XXL.”

Magic Mike won.





The next afternoon, Emma and I walked into Needful Things to find Tristan smiling behind the coffee counter. “Hey, you guys!” he said with the widest grin ever.

“Hey, Tick!” Emma exclaimed, climbing up into one of the chairs.

He bent down and bopped her on the nose. “Hey, Tock. Hot cocoa?”

“With extra marshmallows!” she yelled.

“With extra marshmallows!” he echoed, turning away. His happy demeanor was a bit off-putting. I wasn’t sure what it meant, or how to take it. We hadn’t spoken in days, yet he was acting as if everything was perfect. “Elizabeth, can I get you something?”

He’d called me Elizabeth, not Lizzie.