Trystan assumes nothing. He steals no kisses and his hands don't roam. He's a good man and I wish I could mend his heart, but the most I can offer is a brief reprieve.

I feel the cold chain against my arm, and pull away slightly to look down at it. I lift the object and turn it over in my fingers. He watches me, saying nothing. When I put it down, the ring falls into place against his chest. Trystan presses his eyes closed and wraps his fingers around the ring. "Here I've been telling you to let go of the past, but I wear mine around my neck." He yanks at the chain and tosses it to the floor.

Worry rushes through me. I know how hard that must have been. I want to ease his pain and forget mine—just for a moment. It's an innocent thought at first, something meant to be soft and caring. Before Trystan can speak, my lips find his, but things are different this time.

CHAPTER 8

We aren't on a couch and I'm not sober. The world is tipping sideways and it feels like I'm about to fall off the edge and be devoured by monsters. Trystan is my anchor so I cling to him, holding on tight like I'll die if I let go. He does the same and that soft kiss, that simple sweeping of lips changes.

Trystan's hands find my cheeks and he traces the lines of my face, learning the curves of my mouth as he does it. His kisses are tender, though he holds me firmly. I know I'm desired and there's no question that I'm his in that moment, but he doesn't hurt me. There's no pain, not with him, it vanishes and I feel steady for the first time in months.

The way Trystan touches me, the way he tastes me—every aspect is unique to him. The way his tongue strokes my lips and tangles with mine is all his own, the tender touch of his hands on my skin, and the way his thumb pulls my lower lip out ever so slightly so he can suck it into his mouth. My stomach twists as I forget myself. The pain and worries recede as I let him slide his hands over my curves, leading him with my own. The kisses grow hotter and more demanding, more breathless until they aren't enough.

My shirt disappears and I shut my eyes. He lets me move how I want, touch where I want, and take what I want. We forget for a while, and the world that pains us washes away, lost in a drunken lust. I'm not bound or told to face away. He lets me roll him onto his back and cover his chest in kisses before I straddle him. He unbuttons my jeans and slips his hands under the waistband as our h*ps rock slowly. No one speaks. I hear him sigh or maybe that's me, I'm not certain anymore. Then he digs his fingers into my back, guiding me—showing me what he likes—where he wants to be kissed.

For a moment, I'm lost and I've forgotten, until her name slips from his lips in a whisper almost too quiet to hear. I don't think he knows he's said it. I don't stop and neither does he. Trystan's beautiful body is covered in sweat when he finally rolls me over and pushes up one of my legs. My jeans are gone but my panties are still on. I blink and smile. The haze grows thicker and I can't stop thinking about Sean.

Trystan watches my eyes as he slides his mouth over my body. I trail my fingers along his back, pulling him closer, wishing for things that cannot be. Trystan holds my knee tightly to my chest and rocks against me promising me things to come, of what it'll be like to have him inside of me.

I'm lost. This feels like a dream and although my fingers and my mind know this isn't Sean, I want him to be, so he is. My head feels heavy, and it's too difficult to think, but I refuse to surrender to the sleep that's pulling at me. I will not feel the water around my neck again. I want to feel flesh on flesh, the slick warmth of his body as we lie together. I can no longer tell what's real. Course fingers run over my body and passion flames within my soul. It's a dream. The way he moves is different and I can't understand why.

"Sean," I whisper. This is the way things were supposed to be, soft and sensual. Pure and perfect. His lips find that place on my neck and I gasp, digging my nails into his skin.

You're dreaming, I tell myself and get lost in the bliss. I forget that Sean and I are done. I refuse to remember what his mother said or the trade he made that ensured we were through. Even though it was my decision, I can't bear it. It feels like I'm made of glass, and brick upon brick was pressed upon me until I shattered.

There's nothing left except this heat and my nails on his hot skin. I hold onto the dream for as long as I can following it as far as it will allow me until a heart beats steadily beneath my ear, and we still. The two of us stay like that, holding each other like the world is dying around us and we're the only two people left to face the remains, alone.

CHAPTER 9

The sunlight shines in my face, rousing me. Pulling up my arm, I drop it over my eyes and moan. God, my head hurts. That's when I open my eyes. Last night comes flooding back and I feel Trystan's arm draped across my na*ed hips. He sleeps next to me, holding me in a way I've always craved, but Sean would never tolerate.

I don't know how I feel, I'm caught between horror and denial. This didn't happen. It's not what it looks like, is it? We just embraced each other—I needed comfort and he gave it. But where did we stop? Did we stop? Clutching at my face, I sit up.

I can't remember.

The necklace with the ring is still on the floor next to Trystan, glinting in the sunlight. How many years has he worn it? Who was she and what happened to them? They're questions that I can't ask, and the answers won't make any difference. He's going to hate me for this. He's been holding a torch for this girl for God-knows-how-long and then I come along. Oh, God. I can't face him. What's he going to think? It was supposed to be a hug, an embrace, a small kiss. How did we end up like this?

Trystan's eyes open slowly when I sit up, and he tenses when his gaze drifts to my bare skin. I have the blankets pulled up to my chest, concealing the front of me. Last night comes back to him, at least in part. I see the rush of memory flood his eyes. I touch his hand, lacing our fingers together, and hold onto him tightly. "It's all right, Trystan." But my voice shakes and he can tell that I'm not all right.

"Oh God. I took advantage—" he gasps, before his jaw locks, nearly having said the wrong name, and pulls his hand back. Those sapphire eyes look away, guilt-ridden. He finishes speaking. "Avery, I shouldn't have."

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I ask, "Shouldn't have what, exactly?" I don't want to look up at him, but he's too silent for too long. The only sound I can hear is the way he breathes when he's upset, or excited. My skin is instantly covered in shivers, reacting to something that is out of reach—a memory that was never made. It slipped through my fingers like rain, but my body remembers and reacts to him.

Trystan has his head tipped down with that long dark hair covering his face. He pushes it back, and flicks his gaze up to meet mine for half a second. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me."

We stare at each other. Nothing. No one speaks. I can't remember and neither can he. I start to mutter things I shouldn't say. "If we did everything, I'd feel it, right? I've always felt it the next day with Sean, but he doesn't hold back."

His lips form a tight line, before he spits out, "Just because I didn't hurt you doesn't mean I held back, assuming things went that far." Trystan looks around, but there are only empty bottles on the floor. "Damn, my head hurts."

"I didn't mean it like that." I try to clarify, but I can't. His touch was nice, gentle. It was the difference between being fu**ed and making love. I haven't had much experience with the latter. I'm playing with my fingers, weaving them together and turning them, twisting them as I explain. "I meant that after I've been with Sean, I can feel it. But, I don't feel any pain and nothing's sore. So how do you normally tell?"

Trystan's eyes dart back and forth like he's remembered something. "Condoms. I always use them." We both start looking through the blankets, but there's no trace, no wrappers, nothing to indicate he used one. Trystan finds his jeans before he pulls one out that is still sealed, unused. "Fuck."

I laugh nervously. "That doesn't mean anything." He glances up at me like I'm stupid. "What? Just because we didn't use one, it doesn't mean we did it. I mean, maybe we just made out and fell asleep."

"Naked?" He's ready to roll his eyes, but doesn't. "Avery, Occam's Razor—the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. In this case, we slept together. Please tell me you're on the pill or something." He watches me, with regret pressing heavily on his shoulders.

I nod. "I am, but Trystan, there's no way to know if we did." He stands there, half-dressed, staring at me. "So let's act like we didn't."

"I don't forget lovers like that. Sex means something to me. You do something to me." He rubs his hand over his face and doesn't look at me while he says the rest. "It's like you're a lightning rod—you evoke every memory of someone I want to forget. I would have never gone after you because, even though I like you, I'd always think of her. Pathetic, isn't it?" He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. When he finally glances at me, he adds, "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything."

I pull my blanket higher and try not to smile. "A chivalrous rock star? Isn't that interesting?"

"Don't tease, not about this." The look on his face is barren. I can't read what he's thinking at all. I don't know if he feels like he betrayed his lost love or me.

"Trystan, I'm not. I needed to be held and comforted. I think you did, too. That's all it was, right? You shouldn't feel guilty. I kissed you, remember?" I touch his leg and he looks down at me before he sits next to me on the blankets. He gazes into my eyes with too much sorrow for one person to bear. "We're friends, aren't we?" I don't mean to sound needy, but the hitch in my voice tells everything.

"Of course." There's not an ounce of hesitation once he realizes I care about him. I've lost everything and I'm being forced to start over in a life that's been hellish for too long. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the cheek. "It was just this one time. An alignment of the stars."

"Always the poet." He smiles shyly, but still looks guilty. "Trystan, I'm not ready for another relationship. Go put your necklace back on and no one will know."

He nods. After a moment he says, "Just don't tell Mel. I think she has a thing for me and I'm pretty sure she's castrated a man for lesser things." He shudders and smiles. "Plus, your boss is scary as hell and your ex, well, let's just say they'll all kill me." He looks at the ring in his palm before putting the chain back on.

Smiling, I assure him, "I won't tell anyone." Trystan holds my gaze for a moment before looking away. "And thank you. Last night was rough. Spending it with you, for the parts I remember, helped." He blushes and tries to hide it behind his hair.

"Any time." I put my hand on his shoulder and he looks down at it and then back up at me.

We stay like that for a second, until the uncertain moment passes. Suddenly, he's the man he was yesterday, before last night happened. "So, tomorrow's here. It's time to face the day, your insane boss, an assassin, and your sadistic ex. What do you have in mind, because I know there's no way in hell you're going to wait for Sean to tell you what to do?"

A grin slowly spreads across my face. "You know me so well."

CHAPTER 10

After I tell him what I want to do, Trystan protests. "There's no way you should do that, Avery. Let me go."

"Yeah, the rock star should just show up at Henry Thomas's house and ask if he's been trying to shoot me. Good plan." I roll my eyes.

"Avery, dear, I mean this in the kindest way possible, but how are you still alive?" Trystan is dressed with a faded t-shirt and a worn flannel shirt on top, coupled with a pair of ripped jeans and his Chucks. I have to admit that he's easy on the eyes. He leans back against the chair and winces. We're sitting in his old kitchen. There's dust everywhere.

"What?"

"You zealously used your nails on my back. It looks like I was mauled by a bear." My face flames red and I lunge at him to slap him. Trystan laughs. "Holy shit! You blush? You're a call girl, how are you still blushing when a guy mentions sex?"

We've been sitting at this little table in the horrible home he grew up in. It's horrible because I know this place is haunted for him, but he won't let us leave until the plan is revised. I swipe at him and miss. Trystan pulls his arm away, chuckling, "Easy there, Call Girl. I have enough marks on me to remember you by."

"Jerk."

"Don't do it if you can't talk about it later."

"So says the man who may or may not have slept with me last night." I roll my eyes. Again.

"No, I definitely slept with you. I remember pressing your knee into your chest at one point, but you were still dressed, sort of." He smiles wolfishly and I know he's teasing me, trying to see how red I can turn. "I'm not sure when the clothes came off or what you did with my boxers. They're MIA."

My jaw drops! "You're going commando?"

"Not by choice, Call Girl. For all I know you ate them." He laughs and I lunge at him again. This time I knock his elbow and he tips back in his chair. The motion almost knocks him over, but he rights himself at the last second.

"Nice move, Catwoman."

"You know I like pussy."

I make a face at him. "You did not just say that. That's something that Jon would say, not you."

"Why? Because it lacked eloquence? All men want it, Avery. You should know that by now. Love songs, at their core, are only interested in getting into your core." He's still smiling widely and I can't tell if he's serious or teasing me.

I blink twice. "Where's the Trystan I know, because this version is a little too honest for me."

"Honesty is what makes a person. At the end of his life it's one of the things people remember. Your legacy isn't left by fame or fortune. It's left by the footprints of compassion and honesty." He has no idea how astute he is, or how alluring his words are—they're so profoundly simple, modest, and perfect. No wonder why everyone loves him. Well, everyone except Sean.

"There he is, the real Trystan Scott. Okay, now that I have the normal version of you back, tell me what we should do or I'm out the door."