Page 74 of The Girl and the Cobra

My dad stares at me for a few seconds. “You want to go to Tristan right now, don’t you? You don’t even want to change out of your work clothes.” Just the way he says it, I can tell he knows he’s right.

I flash him my biggest smile. “Yes.”

“All right, all right, all right. Go. Have fun—but not too much fun. Don’t make me a grandpa yet—”

“Dad,” I interrupt him with an embarrassed whine.

He once again acts like he’s zipping his mouth shut—and then he immediately unzips it and says, “Just text me when you get there safe and when you’re leaving, okay? Love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, Dad.” I give him one final grin before getting in the car and turning it back on. I have to adjust the seat to my stature; I like to sit a bit closer to the pedals and steering wheel than most people.

Not going to lie, this is actually exciting. I have a car now. Really blows my mind. And as silly as it may be, I can’t wait to tell Tristan. I know he’ll be thrilled that I’ll be able to visit him more often; moving back home with my dad was hard on him. He liked having me close constantly, and as untrue as it is, I think a part of him is still nervous that I’ll find someone better and leave him.

But that could never happen. It’s so cheesy it’s dripping with it, but I really do think we’re soulmates, that we were made for each other. No one else could understand me like he does, and vice versa with him and another girl.

Tristan is my life, my love, my future. No matter what happens, he’ll always be there for me, and I’ll always be there for him. He is my everything.

I make it to Dr. Wolf’s house, and as I pull up to the giant front door, Tristan steps outside, his expression lightening as it always does when I appear. He goes from sour and dour to at peace in less than a second. It really is like I have magic powers.

I step out of the car and race up the steps to meet Tristan, whom I practically body slam. “Guess what?” I get the words out before his lips come crashing down on mine in a hungry kiss that makes my toes curl in the best of ways.

Tristan hums into the kiss. “What?” he whispers the word against my mouth.

“My dad gave me his old car,” I whisper back. “So now I can visit you whenever I want.”

That makes him pull his lips off mine and glance at the car. “Really? Wow, that was nice of him.”

“I know.” I hardly sound like myself, so damn excited.

Tristan pulls me into the house.

This is the routine, and it will be the routine for a while. I’m going to visit him as often as I can until the snow comes and makes the roads undrivable—and when that happens, I plan on calling the house and talking to Tristan during every free moment. Cell service is still spotty here, so my dad got a house phone installed so I can do just that.

With Tristan’s hand in mine, I am happy. I’m content. I’m right where I want to be. I can picture a future now, something I never could do before. Tristan and I will go the distance. He’s my forever.

Who knew my life had to end before it could truly begin?

Chapter Thirty-Three – Tristan

I bring Mabel to my room, where we lay together on my bed. It is exciting that she has her own car now, so she can come over whenever she wants. She isn’t the only one with some news, though. I have something I’m dying to show her.

Mabel lays beside me, cuddling into me like she always does, and I tell her, “Close your eyes.”

“Close my—Tristan.” Based on the way she says my name, I can tell she thinks it’s going to be something sexual. Please. I’m not going to whip out my dick and swing it around like a helicopter or anything. Can you imagine me doing that? I don’t think so.

No, what I have to show her is something serious, something I’m actually quite proud of.

Something that is actually still a bit sore since I literally got it done today.

“Just close your eyes,” I tell her, and I wait until she does as I asked before I lift up my left arm and give the sleeve a tug. “Open them.”

The very first moment those eyes of hers flutter open, she spots the art on my forearm, and she sits up and gently takes my hand in hers. “Oh my… wow. It’s beautiful.”

The skin is a bit scabbed; I was told it’s going to itch like a bitch once it starts to heal itself, but I’m no stranger to scabbing flesh. On my forearm, where my sister’s name is carved, I now have a full half-sleeve of a tattoo. Intricate tribal designs with some thorns and roses, and smack-dab in the middle is Mabel’s name in elegant script.

The tattooist was very good at blending in the risen, scarred flesh with the tattoo design. Unless you get really close, you can’t even tell I have a different name beneath it.

Mabel bites her bottom lip in the cutest way before she says, “You didn’t tell me you were getting it done today. How long did it take?”

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