Definite Page 4

  I know Tristan is a good guy; I wouldn’t have slept with him otherwise. Though I don’t make it a habit of sleeping with men I’m not in a relationship with. He’s the first and the last. Look where my carefree rebellion got me.

  Tristan waits patiently while I brush my teeth before carrying me back to bed. “I’ll be right back.” He pulls the covers over me, kisses my temple, and disappears down the hall.

  I stare up at the ceiling, listening to him rummaging around in my small kitchen. I can hear his heavy footsteps as he makes his way back to me. “Try these,” he says, handing me an opened package of saltine crackers. I watch as he sets a bottle of water on the nightstand.

  “Thank you. I’m sure you’re hungry too.”

  “Don’t worry about me right now. Let’s see if we can get you to hold these down, and then I’ll run out and get you some chicken soup.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” The soup isn’t going to help me. Then again, maybe the broth will.

  He takes a seat on the bed, facing me, his hand on my knee. “I know that, Lauren. I want to take care of you. I hate seeing you like this.”

  He says it with so much sincerity in his voice that if I wasn’t currently looking into his eyes, I still would’ve believed him. “I’m sorry you came all this way,” I say before nibbling on the end of a cracker.

  He gives my knee a gentle squeeze. “You’re here. There’s nothing to be sorry for. My only expectation of this trip was to spend some time with you. I told you I missed you.” He gives me a toothy smile.

  “So, you said they don’t know you’re here. Where do they think you are?”

  “Kentucky. I’ve been looking to buy a classic car. Told them I found one in Kentucky that I was going to look at.”

  “I hate that you had to lie to them.”

  “Then let’s tell them,” he says immediately.

  “Tell them what, exactly? That we’ve been flirting for over a year and finally slept together a couple of months ago? What exactly is there to tell, Tristan?”

  He flinches as if I’d slapped him. “We’re more than that and you know it.” His voice is stern.

  “Are we? How would I know that?”

  “Seriously, Lauren?”

  “We come from two different worlds, Tristan. I’m being realistic here.”

  “One world, the one we both live in.”

  “Right,” I scoff. “You have photographers following you everywhere you go, women falling at your feet, and you travel all over the world. I’m just a manager of a restaurant. No photographers, and no men falling at my feet.”

  He growls at that. “What the fuck am I, then? Over the last year, we’ve talked, texted, and spent as much time together as you would allow. What was all that?” he asks, his voice low.

  I shrug and place my half-eaten cracker back in the package. “We were having fun. I knew going into this with you that that’s all it would be,” I confess.

  He stands and runs his fingers over his short hair. “I’m going to run out and grab some dinner. I’ll pick you up some soup while I’m out.”

  “You’re leaving? Just like that?” I ask, raising my voice.

  Bending down, he kisses my forehead. “I don’t want to yell and fight with you when you’re sick. Fuck, I don’t want to do it at all, so I’m going to take a drive to grab us some food. I’ll be back. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” With that, he stands and walks out the door.

  I sit stone-still, listening to his feet carry him to the front door. When the door finally closes and I hear his car start up and pull out of the drive, I lose the battle and let the tears fall.

  I’m so damn confused. I should just tell him and let the cards fall where they may, but I need just a little more time. Time to process and prepare for the rejection that I’m sure to receive. Although, with how sweet he’s been, I’m not so sure that’s what will happen.

  I should just tell him and get it over with.

  I make up my mind. As soon as he gets back, and after we eat, I’ll tell him. He needs to know, and me stressing over his response isn’t good for me or the baby.

  I had to leave. She’s not feeling well, and I don’t want to fight with her. I didn’t drive all this way to fight with her. I knew the conversation was heading south, so I ended it. We both needed some time. I need to keep in mind that my girl is feeling like shit. We don’t need to discuss this or decide our future this weekend. I just need to make sure she’s better. No way can I leave her if she’s still not feeling well.

  Pulling into her driveway, I grab the Panera Bread bag and make my way to the front door. I grabbed her keys from the counter on my way out so I could lock up and get back in without her having to get out of bed. Locking the door behind me, I head to the kitchen, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the counter and two bottles of water from the fridge.

  Peeking past her bedroom door, I see her curled up in a ball, eyes closed. Her long lashes are brushing her cheeks, hair spread out on the pillow. Her hands are resting under her face and she looks peaceful. Peaceful and fucking breathtaking. I don’t know what it is about her, but the minute I laid eyes on her, it was as if she was a magnet and I couldn’t resist her pull. What started out as flirting, texting on long bus rides, and calls late at night when I was too amped up after a show to sleep led me to today, to this moment standing in front of her.

  She’s all I think about, and her distance since I was here a few months ago is like a knife in the gut. I wish I could talk to Kacen, or hell, even Cole about this, since they’re settled, married, babies and all that, but she doesn’t want them to know. I just can’t figure her out. What I do know is she’s smart as hell, witty, beautiful, kindhearted, and mine. I won’t stop until she accepts this, accepts us. One look at her, puffy eyes and all and I knew, everything I’ve been feeling is real. I watched Kacen and Cole both struggle with their girls, but I’ve never seen my brothers happier, and I know it’s a battle worth fighting.

  Slowly, I back out of the room and quietly make my way back to the kitchen, placing her soup in the fridge. I can heat it up for her later, no way am I waking her up. She needs her rest.

  Grabbing my sandwich, I eat standing at the counter in her small kitchen. Tossing my wrappers in the trash, I take a seat at the table and take off my boots, setting them by the door. Double-checking the locks, I turn off all the lights and head to her room. Stripping out of my T-shirt and jeans, I climb into bed beside her, moving across it until my front is pressed against her back, my arm around her waist.

  “Tristan,” she mumbles in her sleep, causing my heart to gallop in my chest.

  “Sleep, baby. I got you,” I whisper, kissing her on the shoulder. Her body is relaxed against mine, here in my arms, which is all I want.

  Closing my eyes, I let sleep claim me.

  I jolt awake with the sound of feet hitting the floor. Opening my eyes, I take in my surroundings and it hits me that I’m at Lauren’s. The sound of her retching has me throwing off the covers and going to her. I find her in the bathroom, on her knees, head in the toilet. Not really knowing what I should do, I take a seat on the edge of the tub and pull her hair out of her face, holding it for her.

  “Go away,” she moans before dry heaving.

  “Not a chance, sweet girl.”

  She huffs and rests her head on the arm that’s currently hugging the porcelain god. “I don’t want you to see my like this.” Her voice is gruff, and I’m not sure if it’s from sleep or the fact that she just tossed cookies.

  I gently rub her back. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving. I think we need to take you to the doctor.”

  She stiffens, just slightly, but I notice. “I’ve already been. It’s just a virus, like I said. It has to run its course.”

  “Well then we take you for a second opinion.” I don’t know what to do. I fucking hate seeing her like this.

  “Tristan, it’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can handle being sick.”

  “That’s great, babe, but I can’t. I hate seeing you like this.”

  She lifts her head and must feel okay because she starts to stand. I release my hold on her hair and grab her arms, helping her up. I don’t let go until I know she’s steady.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she says, not looking at me. She walks to the sink and starts brushing her teeth.

  I stand behind her, leaning against the wall, not taking my eyes off her.

  “I’m fine now. I’m going to shower away the funk, promise.” She gives me a pathetic half smile.

  Surely she doesn’t expect me to buy that. “Go ahead,” I tip my head toward the shower.

  She rolls those big brown eyes. Turning, I pull two towels out of the closet beside me and set them on the back of the toilet while she starts the water.

  “Can you hand me two…?” Her voice trails off when I point to where I just laid them. “How did—” She snaps her mouth shut when I grin at her.

  “I pay attention.” I shrug.

  “Do you do that with all the girls you spend time with?” she asks.

  I can hear the hurt in her voice. One long stride and I’m standing in front of her, cupping her face. “There are no other girls, Lauren. Just you. I’ve never bothered with more than a night of fun. No phone calls, no text messages, no rendezvous away from my family.” I pause and let that sink in. “No secret trips to her hometown because I couldn’t go another day without seeing her in the flesh. Couldn’t go another day without holding her in my arms. There is no one but you.” I kiss her forehead, then reach past her and pull the shower curtain open.

  I watch as she strips her T-shirt over her head and tosses it in the hamper, doing the same with her shorts and panties. It’s not meant to be sexual in any way—she’
s simply undressing to shower, after all—but my cock doesn’t realize that. It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen all of her.

  I rake my eyes over her, taking in as much as I can until she pulls the curtain closed. Reaching down, I grab my hard cock through my boxer briefs and adjust, focusing on taking deep, even breaths and forcing myself to think about the meeting on Monday about the new label. My cock starts to deflate and I turn to leave, then think better of it. Sliding my boxer briefs down my legs, I let them pool at my feet before opening the curtain from the back and stepping into the tub.

  Lauren is facing me, eyes closed and head tilted back, letting the water soak her hair. I stand motionless, just watching her, memorizing everything about her. I have today and tomorrow with her before I have to leave to go back to Nashville, and it’s going to be hard to leave her. It was hard before, but I had convinced myself that it was just because of who she was to us. This time I know better—it’s because of who she is to me.

  Slowly her eyes open and land on me. I don’t say anything, just grab the bottle of shampoo and squeeze some into my palm. Stepping in close to her, I begin to wash her hair. She stands motionless, eyes once again closed while I lather her long locks.

  “Tilt back,” I say softly. She does as I ask, and I massage my hands through her hair, working out all the shampoo. Once I’m satisfied that I’ve got it all, I reach for the bottle of conditioner and repeat the process. Lauren just stands there, hands at her sides, letting me do this for her. My heart swells in my chest. I like taking care of her, doing the little things, intimate things you do for those you care about.

  I freeze at the thought, my fingers buried in her hair. Fuck, I knew I wanted her, but it’s deeper than that. I’ve been back and forth for months about her and what we are, what we could be, but it’s in this moment that I’m definite.

  I won’t stop until she’s mine. Until she accepts that she’s mine.

  “Tristan?” she murmurs. Her voice is so soft that I almost don’t hear her over the spray of the water and the thunderous beat of my heart.

  I don’t speak, too afraid that I’ll start spewing off at the mouth and scare her away. She’s hesitant to tell our families about us, and I don’t understand why. I have two days to show her, to convince her that we’re meant to be together. I’ve been around and with many women, but none of them has ever come close to affecting me the way she does.

  I pull her into my arms and she wraps hers around my waist, resting her head on my chest. I kiss the top of her head before stepping us back out of the heavy spray and burying my face in her neck. Her grip tightens and she begins to shake.

  “Lauren?” I ask, pulling back. With my index finger, I lift her chin so I can see her eyes. We’re in the shower and wet, but I can still tell from her watery eyes that she’s upset.

  Turning off the water, I pull open the curtain, then grab a towel and drape it over her shoulders, handing her the other for her hair. I get another for me out of the closet and make quick work of drying off. She has her hair wrapped up turban-style with the other towel tied around her, tears still welling up in her eyes.

  “Hey,” I whisper, reaching out for her. She comes willingly and I hold her as tight as I can. “I don’t know what the tears are for. I know you don’t feel well, is that it? I really think we should take you back to the doctor.”

  “It’s fine, really.” Her voice is weak.

  “Come,” I say, pulling out of the embrace and taking her hand. I lead us to the bed, pulling the covers back for her. She removes both towels and lets them fall to the floor before climbing into bed. I drop my towel and follow her, pulling her naked body to mine.

  “My hair’s wet,” she reminds me when I guide her to rest her head on my chest.

  “Don’t care,” I say, running my fingers through the wet strands. “I think we need to talk. I don’t think I’ve been clear about what this is between us.” She stiffens and tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip. “Tell me about the tears. What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing, just don’t feel well.”

  I decide not to push her, holding her tighter instead. Looks like our talk is going to be pushed to tomorrow. We lie there for I don’t know how long, skin against skin. I hate that she’s sick, but I would never trade this time with her.

  We’re lying in my bed, my wet hair now pretty much dry. It’s going to be a hot mess when we get up.

  I almost told him. When he asked about the tears, I almost blurted it out, but naked in bed is not how I want to do it. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I want to do it. I just know it’s not like that.

  Tristan has his arms around my waist, never wavering. When his belly growls, I giggle.

  “You think that’s funny, huh?” he asks.

  Lifting my head, I look up at him. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “No, but you dozed off.”

  “Let me make you some breakfast.” I lift up and he pulls me on top of him. I can feel his hard length pressing into my stomach.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Okay. Thanks for… that,” I say, my gaze toward the bathroom.

  “No thanks necessary. My girl needed me.” He kisses my forehead and releases me. “You get dressed while I go make us some breakfast. You think you can hold down some toast?”

  “Yeah, with maybe some peanut butter?”

  He smiles. “That’s a favorite of mine too. Haven’t had it in years. That was my easy go-to snack after school.”

  “Mine too. Logan and I used to eat it all the time growing up. Before we were allowed to use the stove, we were only granted toaster privileges.”

  We both laugh at that.

  “Well, Log is a great cook, so I can only imagine you are too.” He hops out of bed and grabs a pair of shorts from his bag. He looks over his shoulder and flashes me a grin before walking out the bedroom door.

  Knowing I need to get moving, I drag my ass out of bed and into the bathroom. Just as I suspected, my hair is a tangled mess. Grabbing the brush, I work my way through the knots, then tie it all back in a twist on top of my head. I brush my teeth again, then grab a pair of yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt.

  “I was just getting ready to yell for you,” Tristan says as I walk into the kitchen. “Breakfast is served, my lady.” He gives me a boyish grin and I can’t help but smile back at him. Who would’ve thought that rocker extraordinaire Tristan Lewis would be here in my kitchen making me breakfast?

  And who would’ve thought that I’d be having his baby? I bite back the panic of my current situation.

  “Hey.” Leaning over the counter, he places his finger under my chin, bringing my gaze to his. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. This looks great. Thank you.”

  He studies me, his blue eyes looking deep inside of me. I’m certain that he knows I’m hiding something. Would he still be here if he knew? “What do you want to do today? Just lie around here?”

  “I’m feeling better. I had planned to just do laundry, clean, maybe read a little.” He nods before shoveling in a big bite of eggs. “But you didn’t come all this way to just hang out at my house.”

  “I did, actually.” He takes a drink of his milk. “I had no expectations other than seeing you. Anything else is just a bonus.”

  “Maybe we can—”

  He places his index finger over my lips. “Maybe we can stay here, do some laundry, clean, and maybe read a little.” He winks, then drops his hand and continues eating.

  “This is surreal to me, that you’re here. That you want to be here,” I confess.

  He doesn’t say anything, just eats his final bite of eggs before he stands and takes his plate to the sink, washing it and setting it in the drainer. Then he turns to face me. “Lauren, how can you say that? This”—he waves a hand between us—“has been a long time coming.”

  “I know we talk and text, but this… this is more.”

  “It is more. Just like a couple of months ago when I spent every fucking spare second of my time with you. Wait, no, that’s a lie. I had to wait until everyone was asleep to sneak out to see you like a teenager.” I can hear the anger in his voice.

  “You know we can’t tell them.”

  “No, Lauren, I don’t know that. I don’t understand why we have to keep this a secret. We are grown adults. What we do behind closed doors is our business.”