The Air He Breathes
: Chapter 23

He took me to the shed.

For the longest time, I’d wondered what it was he did inside those walls. After he unlocked it, he swung the two doors wide open. The space was dark and I couldn’t see anything until he pulled on a lamp cord, turning on a light. The room lit up as he led me inside.

“Charlie…” I muttered, staring around at a room that was set up like a mini library. The shelves were filled with novels, both children’s books and more classic tales such as To Kill a Mockingbird and a huge Stephen King collection. The bookshelves were all hand built, and I could tell Tristan was the one who’d built them.

There was one bookshelf that held only toys—dinosaurs, cars, toy soldiers.

Yet the toys and the bookshelves weren’t what shook me the most. I stared at the walls of the shed and studied the words carved into the wood. It looked as if he had filled the walls up with notes, with memories—with apologies.

“Every time I missed him…every time I thought of him, I carved it into the wood,” he explained as my fingertips ran across the painful words Tristan had only shared with himself…until now.

I’m sorry I left you.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

I’m sorry I didn’t let you read certain books.

I’m sorry I never took you fishing.

I’m sorry you’ll never fall in love.

I wish I could forget.

I miss you…

“Plus,” he whispered. “Jamie always wanted me to build her a library; I always put it off for tomorrow. I thought I had more time, but sometimes tomorrow never comes and you’re only left with the memories of yesterdays.”

When I found his stare, he tried his best to blink his emotion away. I could see the pain that still lived fresh in his mind, in his heart. I stepped toward him. “It wasn’t your fault, Tristan.”

He shook his head in disagreement. “It was. If I hadn’t been running around trying to start a stupid career, I could’ve been there. I could’ve kept them alive.”

“What happened? What happened to them?”

His head lowered. “I can’t. I can’t talk about that day.”

I lifted his face to replace his stare. “That’s fine. I get it. But, I just want you to know that it wasn’t your fault, Tristan. I need you to understand that. You were the best father and husband you could be.” His eyes told me he didn’t believe me. I hoped one day he would. “What was the hardest part for you when you lost them? What was your lowest moment that first week?”

A hesitation hit him as his lips parted to speak. “The day before their funeral I tried to kill myself,” he whispered, extremely raw and uncut. “I sat in my parents’ bathroom and I tried to end my life.”

Oh, Tristan…

“I remember staring at myself in the mirror, knowing that my heart had died right along with them. I knew I was dead. I’ve been dead ever since, ya know? I was okay with that. I was okay with being mean and callous, because I was convinced that I didn’t deserve to have people care for me. I pushed my parents away because I was my own ghost. I wanted so much to be dead, because I felt like it would be better, easier. But then you came, and I started to remember what it felt like to exist.” His lips lay against mine, and my heartbeats sped up. His voice was giving me chills. “Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“It’s easier with you.”

“What’s easier with me?”

His hand found my lower back. My hips arched toward him, our bodies slowly becoming one. He ran his fingers against my neck as I closed my eyes, and he spoke softly into my soul. “Being alive.”

I took a deep breath. “You’re good, Tris. You’re good enough. Even on the days you feel worthless.”

“Can I see your soul now?” he asked. I nodded, nervously, and I led him inside my house.

***

“Love letters?” he asked, sitting on my couch as I opened the heart-shaped tin box.

“Yes.”

“From Steven to you?”

I shook my head. “My mama wrote them to my dad, and he wrote them back to her, almost every day since they met. After he passed away, I would read these every day. Just as a way to remember him. But then one day, Mama threw them out. I found them…and I still read them all the time.”

He nodded in understanding as he picked one up and read it. “You’re sleeping beside me and each second I love you a little more.—HB.”

That one always made me smile. “They weren’t always happy like that. There were some things I didn’t even know about my parents until I started reading these letters.” I went digging into the box for a certain one. “Like this one. ‘I know you think you’re less of a woman. I know you think you’re less of a woman and blame your body for our loss. I know you think you’re less of a woman because of what the doctors said. But you’re wrong. You’re strong, wise, and unbreakable. You are more than a woman. You are everything beautiful in the world, and I am a mere man lucky to call you my goddess. –KB.’ I didn’t even know they lost a child before me. I didn’t know…” I smiled tightly at Tristan, who was taking it all in. “Anyway. My parents are where I first saw true love. I just wish Steven and I had written each other letters. It would’ve been nice.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

I nodded, because I was too.

I closed the tin box and moved closer to him on the couch.

“How did your mom handle losing him?” he asked.

“She didn’t. She used men to forget. She lost herself the day she lost my father. It’s just sad because, well, I miss her.”

“I miss my parents. After Jamie and Charlie passed away, I ran away from them because they were comforting, and I didn’t think I deserved their comfort.”

“Maybe you could give them a call.”

“I don’t know…” he whispered. “I’m still not sure I deserve their comfort yet.”

“Soon, though.”

“Yeah. Maybe soon. So…” he said, changing the subject. “What was the hardest part for you that week? What was your lowest?”

“Um, telling Emma. I didn’t even do it right away either. The first night I lay in her bed holding her, and she asked when daddy was coming home. I broke down crying, and that was when it became real for me. That’s when I knew my life would never be the same again.” Tristan reached out and ran his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away the tears I hadn’t known had fallen. “It’s okay,” I promised. “I’m good.”

He shook his head. “You’re not.”

“I am. I’m good. I’m good.”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to be good all the times. It’s okay to be hurt sometimes. It’s okay to feel lost like you’re wandering around in the dark. It’s the bad days that make the good ones so much better.”

My hands ran through his hair, and I set my lips against his. “Kiss me,” I whispered, placing my fingers against his chest, taking in the feeling of his heart resting in my hands.

He hesitated. “If I kiss you, we can’t go back. If I kiss you…I’ll never want to stop.”

My tongue slowly danced across his bottom lip and then I used it to part his mouth as I spoke in a whisper, “Kiss me.” His hands moved to my lower back, and he pulled me closer to him. He started to rub my back in a circular motion. We were so close together that it was hard to tell if we were two separate people or one soul discovering its inner flame for the first time.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Lizzie…”

A small smile spread across my mouth as I laid a finger against his lips. “I’m only going to tell you this one last time, Tristan. Kiss—”

I didn’t have to finish my words, and I hardly remembered him carrying me to my bedroom.

***

My back lay against my dresser as he boxed me in. He tightened his grip around my waist and our lips met within a moment’s time. His mouth tasted every inch of mine as he deepened our connection. His fingers traveled up my spine, sending chills throughout me. He leaned in closer, and his tongue parted my lips, replaceing my tongue ready to dance with his. His arms wrapped tighter around me, and I dug my fingers into his back, holding on to him as if he was my favorite thing in the world. He is. My head tilted to the side as my hands became tangled in his hair, forcing him to kiss me deeper, harder, faster…

“Tristan,” I moaned against him, and he growled into me. My hand fell to the bottom of his shirt, and I slid it up, feeling the tight body he hid underneath. I loved how he felt. I loved how he tasted. I love how I am falling in love with him.

I didn’t know it was possible. I didn’t know the broken pieces of a heart could still beat for love.

He lifted me up, his hands clasping around my behind, and he sat me on the edge of my mattress. His breaths were rushed, his hunger clear. “I want you so much, Lizzie.” He sighed as his mouth sucked on my ear before he rolled his tongue across my chin and landed his lips against mine. The way he tongued my mouth as if he was trying to replace every inch of me, every taste made me moan into him as he began to slide his hands under my dress. I watched as he slid my panties down my hips and tossed them to the side of the room. He edged me closer to his body and spread my legs, allowing me to feel his hardness. The longing look in his eyes made me smile. I knew right then that he would always make me smile.

His fingers gripped the edge of my dress, and he slowly moved it up, studying every inch of me, every curve. “Arms,” he ordered in a deep snarl, and I lifted my hands up as he took the dress off and tossed it next to my panties. “Beautiful,” he muttered before bending down and kissing my neck. Each time his lips connected to my skin, I felt my heartbeats racing. His tongue followed the curve of my bra as he reached behind me, unhooking it and throwing it to the pile. He sent shivers through my body as his thumbs circled my hardening nipples.

I started raising his shirt, revealing his toned abs. “Arms,” I ordered. He held them up, and I let it drop on top of the growing pile joining the growing pile. He didn’t waste any time lowering his mouth to my chest again, sliding his tongue across my breasts. His lips kissed me hard, and sucked me harder. My breaths grew heavier and heavier, hungrier and hungrier for him to touch me, taste me. “Tristan, just…oh my God,” I muttered, my head falling back from the way his tongue knew how to control my body.

“Lie down,” he ordered. I did as he said and closed my eyes, running my fingers across my chest. The anticipation of his next touch made me nervous, yet thrilled. When would he touch me, and where?

My hips arched up when I felt the wetness of his tongue sweep against my inner thigh. “I want to taste you, Lizzie. I want to taste every inch of you,” he whispered against my skin. His hands gripped my ass, and he pushed my hips up toward him as his tongue fell deep inside me. He licked me slowly and steadily as my body shook in his hold. He licked me harder and wilder as my body begged for more. He licked me deeper and longer as I tangled my fingers in his hair, wanting nothing more than him inside of me.

“Tristan, please,” I begged, my hips wiggling as he slid two fingers inside me as he continued rolling his tongue in and out of my wetness. “I want you…”

Once he pulled away, he stood up and began to unzip his jeans. “Tell me how you want it. Tell me how you want me,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I don’t want it gentle,” I whispered, short of breath. My eyes met his hard erection standing against his boxers as he stepped out of his jeans. My fingers wrapped around the edge of his boxers and within seconds, they were off. “Show me the shadows that keep you up at night. Kiss me with your darkness.”

He lifted me off the bed and placed me facing my dresser, my hands falling against the drawers. With haste, he reached for his jeans pockets, pulled out his wallet, and grabbed a condom, ripping it open with desperation and rolling it onto his hardness. Within moments he was standing behind me, his body pressed against my naked soul. His finger trailed down my back until he hit the curves of my ass, and he grasped it in his hold. “Lizzie,” he said, his breaths matching the speed of my own. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised as he grabbed my left leg and held it up in his arm.

I know, Tristan. I know.

In one thrust, he slid into my tightness with force, making me cry out as my back arched from the sensation of him entering me. As his left hand held my leg up, his right wrapped around to my front to massage my breasts.

His breaths were rough as he spoke. “You feel so good, Lizzie…God…you feel so…” His words faded as he continued to thrust into me. Being so close to Tristan—not only physically, but deep within both of our darkness—made tears form in my eyes. He was beautiful. He was scary. He was real.

This isn’t a dream. This is real.

He slid out from me and twisted me around so I was facing him.

His hands grasped around my behind, and he lifted me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist, his body the only thing that kept me from falling. Our foreheads fell against each other’s as he slid back inside me. “Don’t close your eyes,” he begged. His eyes were filled with lust, with passion, with…love?

Or maybe it was my own love I was seeing shining through him. Either way, I liked the feeling it created in me. He kept entering me hard and pulling out slow. My core was shaking, my eyes wanting to close, but I couldn’t. They had to stay open. I had to see him.

I was seconds away…

Seconds away from my body giving way to him. Seconds away from losing myself and replaceing myself with Tristan Cole inside me. “I’m going to…” I muttered, my body shaking as the orgasm overtook me, my words falling away. My eyes closed and I felt his lips press against mine as my body shook against him.

“God, I love that, Lizzie. I love it so much when you lose yourself against me.” He smiled against my lips as I moaned into him.

“I want all of you,” I begged. “Please.”

“I’m yours.”

That night we fell asleep in each other’s arms. In the middle of the night, we woke up, and he slid inside me again, replaceing ourselves together, losing ourselves together. Early the next morning, we touched each other again. Every time he entered me, it was as if he was apologizing for something. Every time he kissed me, it was as if he was begging for my forgiveness. Every time he blinked, I swore I saw his soul.