Page 76 of Something like Love

“Hey, yourself,” I reply with a small smile as I crouch down to pat Lucky between the ears.

“Was just taking this little guy out to do his business,” Tristan explains, but I can tell by the strain around his eyes he heard my exchange.

“So you heard?” I ask, not even bothering to clarify what I mean.

“Yeah.” He guiltily nods. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure everyone in Antarctica probably heard,” I solemnly reply, scratching Lucky under the chin.

“You okay?” Tristan asks, the concern clear in his voice.

With one last pat, I rise to full height, meeting Tristan’s troubled eyes.

The morning lights draw out the warmness in them, and I can’t help but admire their beauty. However, his beaten face drowns out the color, and my anger escalates.

“I will be,” I confess, taking a step toward him as I examine his bruised face more closely. “I’m so sorry for what happened back—”

“Shh,” he says with a small shake of his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” I reply, looking at his battered face. “You got hurt once again because of me. I just can’t seem to stop hurting you, can I?”

“Hey, stop that. This isn’t your fault.”

But it is, and I lower my eyes, feeling ashamed.

“Were you really going to sacrifice yourself for me? Would you have gone with those assholes to save me?”

“Of course I would,” I reply without thought. “There is no way I would allow them to hurt you.”

Tristan’s eyes soften. “So you see, this isn’t your fault. You always put everyone first. Stop blaming yourself.”

Tristan’s kindness is touching, but talks of sacrificing remind me of the bargain he was so willing to make. “You can’t ever sacrifice yourself for me again. People like Thomas and Phil don’t believe in nobility and would have killed you without a second thought.”

“I don’t care,” he stubbornly retorts, shaking his head.

“Well, I do. I refuse to allow another person I love to get hurt.”

The small space between us becomes incredibly tiny when my brain registers what my mouth just said.

“Well, neither will I,” he whispers, his eyes focusing on mine, and I can see he means every word.

I should be pulling away, but I don’t.

I stand motionless and allow him to hesitantly brush away a strand of stray hair from my face. But I quickly take a step back, breaking our moment. I don’t fail to see the flicker of disappointment behind his eyes.

“Please don’t tell Quinn about what Phil and Thomas asked me to do,” I say after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Why?” Tristan asks, and I’m thankful the awkwardness disappears.

“He’s got enough to worry about. I don’t want to add to the shit pile.”

Tristan nods but doesn’t look too happy. “He’s smart, Mia. He’ll figure it out.”

I sigh because he’s right.

But if I can stop Quinn from worrying about this one thing, then I’ll do whatever it takes.

“But you’ve got my word. I won’t tell him.”

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