The Boy I Hate(65)

“I don’t know…”

He shook his head, as though saying her answer wasn’t good enough.

“Because…” she continued. “He was my friend! And I didn’t want to hurt him. He was my friend, everything was easy, comfortable, and I didn’t want our relationship to fail. To fail at one more damned thing…” Her words trailed off, and she looked up at him through tear-laced lashes. “It wasn’t until you came back into my life that I realized all I was missing…”

He cupped the side of her face, sending her pulse racing.

“I never thought I could have more. That there was more. Because I’m so scared, Tristan, so scared out of my mind of failing, that I haven’t let myself live.” The words came choking out of her, as if they were clawing up her throat, needing her to confess them. Ragged, with torn up edges, coming from deep within her soul.

Her chin began to quiver, and he pulled her into his lap, hugging her so hard it almost crushed her. He held her so tightly, it was as if there was no end to him or beginning of her. “You deserve everything.”

It wasn’t until he said those words that she realized that’s what it was. That she’d convinced herself that her relationship with Steven was enough. That what she had with him was love. That she’d convinced herself she wasn’t capable of more. Wasn’t worthy of more.

Tristan’s voice was harsh, almost jagged, as he whispered forcefully in her ear. “You deserve everything. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, crying in his arms, sobbing so hard, because for some reason, for the first time in her life, she believed it. She deserved a deep-seated love. The soul crushing kind she always dreamed about. And she deserved friendship at the same time, because she was worthy of all of it. He climbed with her back into bed a while later, where he held her in his arms, stroking her back softly with his fingertips. Eventually she fell asleep, for the first time in her adult life, feeling whole.





23





Chapter Twenty-three





The next afternoon, Samantha turned toward the window of the Mustang, letting the warm breeze blow over her hair and face. Last night had been an emotional roller coaster. Between finding out about Renee’s parents, and Tristan holding her in bed all night, her body, mind, and soul were completely spent.

Feelings she didn’t even know existed were ripped off her, like layers shed from an onion—things she’d buried so deep she didn’t even know they existed. Yet somehow, Tristan knew they were there—and somehow, she didn’t want to hide them from him any longer.

It was an odd feeling, because in the past any shortcoming would be brushed under the table. She didn’t like others to see her flaws, her failures, her fears—yet it didn’t seem as scary sharing them with Tristan. Maybe because he wasn’t one to strive for perfection. Or maybe because the way he looked at her made her feel like all her imperfections were what he liked most about her.

They’d enjoyed the morning lounging in bed, making love, and eating breakfast brought to them on silver platters: pancakes, fruit, and lots of sticky syrup that she thoroughly enjoyed licking from his fingers.

Even though they didn’t talk about it, the wedding was looming over them, pushing them forward, rushing them through their time together, and by 10:00 a.m. they were packed up, back in the car, and ready for the last leg of their journey.

She looked over at him now, to his handsome face and his hands braced on either side of the steering wheel. His aviator glasses were shading his face, his lips serious, set in a straight line, but he was beautiful. And not just because of his outside. He was beautiful on the inside too.

Last night he’d laid himself out there, letting her see the little boy who lived inside him, hurt and broken by his father who he’d always idolized. Then about his jealous heart, that prevented them from being together all those years ago. But somehow, that was all over now. They’d overcome it.

“We finally made it,” she said softly, though she didn’t mean it just about the trip. It was said about so much more.

He glanced over at her, cracking one of his panty dropping smiles, and tilted his head down toward the GPS. “We should be there in an hour. Are you ready?”

She grinned. “That depends.”

“On what?” he asked flirtatiously.

“On what you’re asking I’m ready for.” She raised her brows. “Because if you’re asking if I’m ready to try on my bridesmaids dress, the answer is no. I sent the measurements three months ago, and I think I’ve eaten more burgers and fries in the last four days than I have in the past year.”