Sean replies stoically, "Done."
Constance grins triumphantly as they shake hands. "Wonderful."
CHAPTER 3
I'm not wearing Sean's ring. I have no right to blow up at him and scream in his face, but I want to. The ride back to the club is filled with tense silence. Sean grips the wheel until I think it's going to break off in his hands. His forehead is drawn together forming angry lines, and I know he's lost in thought, livid.
I stare out my window, equally enraged. He accepted help from the devil and traded me in like I was worthless. I was his bargaining chip. He threw me away like a piece of trash. Sean didn't even hesitate. It feels like he ripped my heart from my chest and handed it to his mother. I can't take this anymore.
When he pulls into the club's parking lot, Sean slams on the breaks and jumps out. He doesn't open my door, or wait for me. He disappears into the building without a word. I trail after him, not knowing what to do or say. I'm furious, but I can't react, not now. Not here.
When I push through the door, no one is around. I hear Sean's voice behind the closed office door. He's arguing with Jon, and it sounds like Bryan is in there too because someone is laughing. Only he'd be crazy enough to laugh at Sean when rage is pouring off the man in sheets.
There's a worn black couch in the back corner. I head over and sit down hard, slipping lower into the seat until I look like a sulking teenager. Leaning my head against the backrest, I stare at the ceiling. There are two ways to look at this situation—I rejected Sean, so he's agreed to his mother's request because it doesn't change anything. Or, he's trying to protect me and is willing to give me up to do it.
A tear is about to fall from the corner of my eye when the seat next to me dips. "Hey," Trystan says, and hands me a tissue.
I have no idea why Sean hates him so much. Trystan is one of the nicest guys I know. I take it and dab. "Thanks."
He doesn't ask me what's wrong, or pry. He just sits there, slumped back like me, and crosses his arms over his chest. That ring glints from below his shirt as he stares at nothing. "So, I'm thinking philosophy is bullshit. The more I think about it, the more it seems like fate is a bunch of crap. I mean, that's the same thing as walking around and letting luck guide your life, right?"
This guy always surprises me. There's a sharp mind behind the rocker façade. I wonder how many people know how intelligent he is, how he's always thinking. "Maybe, but I wouldn't know because I only seem to have bad luck. Dead parents, no house, shitty boss, crazy ex-boyfriend…" My voice trails off as I stare at the office door.
Trystan doesn't look. He sighs deeply and slips his hand over mine. It's a gesture meant to comfort. "I could say the same thing. My mother ran away, it was my fault, my dad beat the shit out of me, half the time I slept outside, and I'm totally alone. The thing I want most, I don't have and I never will." He shrugs as though he's accepted it.
I glance at the office door, wishing for a version of Sean that is more mirage than real. "Same here."
"Yeah, but I was an asshole and let it happen. You have a choice. The guy that has your heart is in the same building. He hasn't left you." Trystan looks over at me and then at his hand. He goes to pull it away, but I stop him and look at his hand. The tips of his fingers are calloused from playing his guitar.
I run my fingers over the hardened pads and ask, "So what's stopping you? Fate? I thought that was bullshit. Call her."
Trystan offers a crooked grin as his gaze falls to the floor. He seems so much younger than Sean, more innocent, but equally battered. He still wears his heart on his sleeve occasionally and I can see it now, shattered into a million pieces. "It's not that simple." His voice has a lost sound and I know his mind is a million miles away, remembering something—someone.
"It never is." I lean into him and we tip our heads together. "We seem the same, sometimes."
"I noticed," I feel him smile softly and then he looks down at me. Trystan moves slowly and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. Watching me closely, he speaks so softly, so sincerely, that his voice feels like a caress, "Some people think that each soul was torn in two and that you'll know when you find it, that true happiness can only be found when the two souls are reunited." His blue gaze flicks between my eyes, but I know he isn't talking about me.
"Do you believe that?"
"I did, once."
"And now?" My voice is nearly a whisper. Trystan is way too close and somehow both his hands have made their way to my cheeks. His touch is so gentle, so careful, as he wipes away tears that I didn't feel rolling down my face.