Tristan kept his hands firmly rubbing her back, pushing into the strained muscles as she told her soul to him. She turned her face so he could see her eyes. "He threw us out. Like we were trash. He just walked out. Never once looking back."

He stared into her eyes. So dark and stormy and full of deep longing. For love, acceptance, understanding. "You tend to talk about yourself like you're just that."

"Trash," she muttered softly.

He nodded slowly, holding her gaze in his. "Yes, like you are trash that anyone at any time could just throw away. Even your own mom, you treat that way. I mean, as if you believe she would just throw you out too. You hide stuff from her, or at least that is what it seems, because you think if she finds out she'll just abandon you. That you are that easy to leave."

"I... I know I'm not."

"I know you intellectually know that. But I think inside, that's exactly what you think."

She dropped her head to bury it back in the pillow, nodding her head up and down as she stretched her arms, flexing her shoulder muscles. "He doesn't deserve it. That kind of power to make me feel that way." She suddenly sat up, taking the pillow and wrapping it against her chest. She leaned her head down into it. Her nakedness was hidden, but how slight she was wasn't. How weak. How fragile. How strangely strong.

"But you do feel that way."

She lifted her face off the pillow. There wasn't a tear even. Just a hollow, big-eyed gaze. "Yes. I don't understand why though. You don't understand how everyone tried to help me. My mom, oh my G.o.d, she put us, me and Ally, before everything. My grandparents, and then even Donny's parents took us in as their own. And of course, there was Donny. He is my father now. I mean, he loves me. I know this... but... it's never enough. All of this, their love and support and care, is just never enough to fight off this deeper feeling inside of me."

"This feeling that you're trash, that any of them, me now included, will leave whenever the mood strikes us, without any warning. Nothing might even be wrong. We all just might leave you and be gone. Poof. Into thin air."

"Yes," she said, her tone strangled. She sucked in a deep breath, her face bent down, and her hair falling over the sides of her face. He could just see her forehead, eyelashes, top of her nose, and chin. "Pathetic, right? I mean, that doesn't happen. It's crazy to cling to this idea. They are all still there. Still loving me. But I won't let it be enough. I let him, that criminal, rule what I believe about people I know better. I just don't understand why I give him that power. Why I'm not stronger. Why I let him define me."

"But it did happen to you, Kylie. Someone you loved, someone you trusted and relied on just willingly left you and disappeared one day. So no, really, it's not so crazy you believe this on a gut level... it happened to you."

"Ally had the exact same thing happen to her and she doesn't carry it around like some kind of f.u.c.king excuse for being such a loser."

"Ally... Ally... so perfect Ally. Yet, strangely you don't seem to hate her or even feel a huge amount of jealously of her. Ally isn't you. Maybe it's as simple as that. Maybe that's just the difference in your reactions. Doesn't mean either of you were right or wrong."

"Ally cried and carried on. She was angry and horrible to Mom and everyone... She reacted. She was loud and vocal and let it out. I-I didn't really do anything. I cried maybe a handful of times that I can think of. I didn't talk about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I still don't. I just wanted to forget it. I wanted to not feel it. Maybe I don't feel things right, you know? Things happen. Bad things and I don't react. I shut down and.... and..."

"What?" he prodded gently.

"I don't heal. I just get sadder and more pathetic. I just don't understand, why don't I react? To anything?"

He leaned forward and took her hands in his. She stared down at their linked hands. Hers were inert in his for a prolonged moment before her fingers suddenly grasped his own tightly. Almost fiercely. "I think..." he started softly, "that hating yourself is a pretty strong reaction."

Her head nodded. Her shoulders slunk down. "I guess so. Do I disgust you?"

"No." He took both of her shoulders in his hands. Her bones protruded and he let his thumbs gently rub along the ridge of them where they tucked into her neck. "No, you don't disgust me."

"Why? You have a thing for skeletons?"

"No. Never once before. But I can have a thing for you. And I can't be disgusted by what I like about you."

"Why would you even want to have s.e.x with me?"

"I can have s.e.x with your body because I find you desirable. Not because you're so skinny, but neither does it repel me from wanting to. Okay? My reaction to you isn't the problem."

"I don't know why I won't cry when anyone else would cry. I don't. Maybe I'm a sociopath or emotionally crippled or something."

"Maybe it's just not your way. And I think you've convinced yourself that how Ally reacts is the way. She works through her feelings, lets them out from what you describe. You internalize it all. It doesn't mean you don't have them."

"They all want things of me I could never deliver. From the time Micah left, they wanted me to cry and carry on. I was supposed to be angry and express that. Mom was always, always asking, 'Are you all right?' 'Come on honey, talk to me, and tell me what's going on in that head of yours.' It was the right thing to ask me, as my mother, but it just... I couldn't ever find the words or the anger they wanted out of me. I couldn't answer them how they wanted. It made me incredibly sad for many years. I told them that. But they wanted more from me. I couldn't express it all enough for them. I thought I did express it and they would then want more. More talking, more tears, more feelings. And I couldn't produce it. I was just..."

"It didn't make you wrong, Kylie, to need to just feel sad. I'm hearing that you just wanted time to process it without talking or crying about it. Tell me, why did you never see him again?"

"Because... he's a lying sack of s.h.i.t! He left us. He left Mom. She didn't deserve that. We didn't deserve that. I mean, who would want to see him? He was in jail. After he got out he tried to contact us but we told him to f.u.c.k off via email of course, and that was it. There was no reason, ever, to a.s.sociate with him."

Tristan sighed heavily as he moved his hand to cup her neck. He prodded her head forward so their foreheads touched. Gently he said, "What if, Kylie, that wasn't what you needed? What if you didn't need to tell him to f.u.c.k off? What if that was what Ally needed? Even your mom needed? But what if, just what if... you need to see him? What if you need to ask him why he left you? Or what he last said to you or when he last saw you? What if you just need to know he's still alive? What if the closure you need isn't no contact, but some kind of contact?"

She jerked back from him. "That would be... an awful thing to need. Why should he get any say in my life? Why would I want to see him? After what he did? He hurt Mom. He almost destroyed her. He-"

"Wasn't her dad. He was her husband, Kylie. He was your dad. That's an entirely different relationship. Entirely different needs. Did your mom tell you to never see him again? Hear him out? Let him explain or apologize?"

Kylie hesitated. Her chest rose up and down as if she were breathing hard. She may not usually say a lot, or cry, but there were other physical symptoms that often showed on her. "No. She'd never tell us not to. He contacted her when he was first arrested, first back in town. She was on her way to see him when she decided she didn't have to do that. She didn't have to hear him out or ever see him again. In fact, she and Donny got engaged instead. It was all spontaneous. They stopped at the entrance of the police station and Donny proclaimed his love and he wanted a future with her. And Mom realized she deserved that and didn't owe Micah anything. He'd stolen so much from her. No more."

"Good for her. Seems a healthy reaction for a betrayed, wronged ex-wife to have. But Kylie, you are his daughter. You lost a parent. That isn't the same thing. You aren't expected to react how your mother does."

Kylie jerked a strand of long hair behind her ear. "No, no. She never expected us to. She always told us we needed to do whatever felt right for us, about him. It broke her heart that she put us in this position with this kind of father. Ally and I decided we would react to Micah together and as a united front always, no matter what. We would not let him ruin another moment of our lives. We would not give him another moment to speak his lies to us. We decided."

"Uh-huh, and yet, Kylie, from what I see, he still has a huge chunk of your life in his hands. I don't think you let any of it go. I think that worked for Ally, not you."

Her eyes met his and were big with confusion. "I can't need him. He-"

"Hurt you. But maybe you do need something from him. Maybe you want to get some kind of closure. In some form. To find out the why. To hear an apology. Or to hear him not apologize so you can let it go. Maybe you desire answers. Your answers. Not your mom's answers. Not Ally's answers. But your answer."

Her tongue darted out and licked her lips. "I can't imagine doing that."

"You're not arguing that I'm wrong."

"I never... No, I don't know what I think."

"Maybe you should take some time and decide that; decide what you think and do what you need. Your needs about this are every bit as valid as Ally's and your mom's. It happened to you guys all together, but also individually. Maybe you should deal with your end of things just a bit differently."

"I don't know." Her forehead wrinkled as she stared down at her feet crossed under her.

"Hey," he said, nudging her toe with his hand. "I'd be willing to go with you. If you ever needed to find him. You know emotional support and all that. Or just get there. Where is he?"

"Bend, Oregon."

"Not so far you can't drive."

"No, not so far I can't drive."

She was chewing on her lower lip. Dried skin was peeling off it. She often picked at it. He leaned forward and kissed it to stop her. Her hands tucked into his hair. He leaned so far into her she had to fall back on the bed with him on top of her. His hands slid up the sides of her chest and his thumb rubbed along her breast as he lifted up his head off hers. "You know what I haven't done in a... no, in perhaps years. Maybe since college?"

"What?"

"Spent all day in bed. Wanna?"

Her smile was huge and a surprise laugh popped from her mouth. "If I can sleep at some point. It's still not even six."

"You can sleep. In a little while," he said as his mouth came down and started sucking on her neck. She sighed and her fingers combed through his hair. Her legs moved so her hips let him settle more comfortably into her embrace.

Her giggle was enough to make something in his heart release and expand. Maybe because she didn't do it very often. Maybe because she wasn't very happy, it was like finding gold to witness it in her. Plus, since holding her, touching her skin, talking to her, laughing with her, his headache had finally receded.

And later, when he snuck away and called his grandfather, he lied and said he had the proof. It was done. The Kylie thing was a done deal. They could move on. Leave her alone. That way his grandfather would stay off his back and he'd be done feeling sick that he was spying on Kylie behind her back. And the fact that there was no actual "proof" or "insurance" of their affair? All the better in Tristan's eyes. At least for now he could look himself in the mirror again.

Chapter Twelve.

FOR THE NEXT FEW weeks it became a strange routine for Kylie. She was with Tristan constantly. He came over every day after work now. She got used to getting her homework, studying, and even drawing done while he was around. It was easy to put off at first, but he always had extra work to do, so she started working on hers while he did his. Her grades went up simply because she was consistently working now. They were most often at her place, rarely at his. Mostly because he had the car and took the initiative to come her way. She hadn't been to a party in weeks and hadn't slept with anyone but Tristan in as long. It was unheard of for her. And surprisingly, extremely easy.

"Hey, I have to work late tonight."

Her heart dipped. So stupid to get so reliant on him being around every single day. It was getting out of hand, how much she actually liked his company and looked forward to it. It had become habit. Easy. Expected.

But real life called sometimes. "Okay."

He sighed into her ear over the phone. "Not okay. It's depressing me."

"Oh thank G.o.d. Me too."

"Go to my place. I'll be back late. I'll call the manager and tell him to let you in when you get there. But at least..."

"We'll still each other. Okay. See you later, then."

Let in by the building manager, she dropped her stuff beside his bed and scrounged for something to drink and nibble on. Surprisingly with Tristan, who rarely said anything in judgement either way about what she ate or didn't, she found her body-issues were easier to handle with him. He was oddly accepting of her, which went a long way towards building her confidence in him. With Tristan she wasn't hiding her body, denying it, justifying it or trying to fix it. Tonight she was relaxed and hunger gnawed at her, so she ate some of the crackers and apple slices he had there. The relief was Tristan didn't hover over her, checking to see if she had eaten or not. He didn't get offended if he fixed a meal, whether it be Sunday breakfast or Tuesday dinner, and she declined eating it, or only nibbled off it. He just... let her. Not being an issue to him made it a little easier to not make it an issue with her.

Later, she stretched out on his decadent bed and sheets. She could care less for his expensive tastes in stuff. It was all wasted on her, except this bed. She really liked the feel of it. She often indulged in it on Sundays. He was always off working anyway, rarely staying in bed past six or seven. It was more like ten or eleven before she came stumbling out of bed to face the day.

The door slammed shut about eleven. She sat up, groggy, pushing her hair off her face. She was naked and not shy about it, sitting up when the noises finally reached the bedroom, where he clicked the light on as he entered. She blinked in surprise at the bright overhead light. And then froze. Everything inside her froze.

It wasn't Tristan.

There was another woman.

She was tall, blonde, and elegant. She wore a long, narrow skirt that hit her mid-calf and a professional blouse-jacket in a royal blue that made her hair color pop. She had started to undo her blouse and untuck it from her skirt. She stopped dead, startled by Kylie's screech from the bed. She stared at Kylie, bug-eyed in shock and surprise, as Kylie stared at her. There was an obvious ease to how this woman felt about being in Tristan's bedroom.

"Who are you?"

Kylie's mouth was still dropped open. Who was she? The woman didn't even seem all that shocked or upset she was there. Maybe it was his long-lost sister? But no, there would be all kinds of drama about Tara showing up here. Who then? She didn't know much about Tristan's life outside of here and them. The blaring discrepancy in how much he was involved with her life suddenly hit Kylie. It had seemed fine... almost natural how it all had developed. But she was seeing clearly in front of her she knew nothing about him. Nothing at all. She'd never met his family or friends or seen his work place. She had no idea even who this woman could be. Though many things were falling clearly into place about who she most likely was.

Kylie jumped off the bed, dragging the sheet to cover herself. She felt worse than naked. She felt ripped open and ruthlessly exposed. She didn't answer but dashed past the woman and locked herself into the bathroom. She grappled around in her clothes she'd left strewn about until she found her pack of cigarettes and lighter. She was shaking. She finally got a cigarette out and lit it. She quickly ducked into a long t-shirt to cover herself and then slid to the floor in defeat. What had she thought? Really? That he was only dating her? He was only f.u.c.king her? Had she really thought someone like her could hold the attention of someone like him?

She was many things, but not usually nave. Or a fool.

She couldn't even get mad at him. They had never really said they were exclusive. She had just a.s.sumed.... oh, so many things, because of how he talked and acted... and because it just seemed like it didn't need to be a spoken thing. But shaking her head now, she laughed in bitter disgust.

How then was she going to escape this? She still could hear movement out in the bedroom and then the low hum of voices. She swore under her breath.

Minutes later there was loud knocking on the door. "Kylie? Open up, please, it's me."

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the tub rim behind her. Tristan. Here to say he was sorry. She had not understood the situation. He was just...

"Kylie, please. Please let me explain."

She stood up, finally walked to the door, and unlocked it. It wasn't like she could hide in there forever. Why be a drama queen about it? Why embarra.s.s herself more than her navete already had her totally, epically embarra.s.sed? She sunk onto the closed toilet lid, sucking hard on her cigarette as Tristan flung the door open. He was in a rush, almost panicked looking as he came in. The shock that she'd unlocked the door was obvious in his facial features.

He stood over her, staring down at her. She kept her gaze firmly planted on her k.n.o.bby, bare knees, poking out from the t-shirt that had ridden halfway up her thighs. She picked at the end of the cigarette which was furiously burning towards her fingers. He dropped before her, kneeling in front of her. He gently took the cigarette and set it in a soap dish next to them. She watched the lazy spiral of smoke fade upwards. He hated her smoking. She kept it discreet around him and never smoked in his place, until now. He often commented when her breath tasted like it.

He was quiet for a long p.r.o.nounced moment. He finally sighed and shook his head, dropping his shoulders as if in defeat. "It's not what you think."

She shrugged. "She doesn't f.u.c.k you? She seemed pretty comfortable, starting to undress from her long day at work."

"Well... yes. But not anymore. Not now."

"You don't have to apologize."

His gaze jerked up. "I don't have to apologize?" His tone was higher in volume now. His eyebrows scrunched up. "Why aren't you freaking out at me? What do you think is going on here, Kylie?"

"We never said we couldn't be with others."

"But.... I'm... not. What do you mean we never said? This whole time you... were?" His eyes were huge. She shrugged. How had they gotten so off track?

He leaned back from her as if she suddenly disgusted him. He shook his head. "I can't believe..."

"I haven't," she snapped. "I just mean I can't be mad. We never agreed this was about only us."

"It's been about only us since it started." His tone was almost despondent. He sat back down on his b.u.t.t and leaned his head back on the rim of the tub like she'd had hers. "Her name is Morgan Hartley. She and I have been involved for several years. But it's not like what you're picturing. We are just friends. We have-no, we had s.e.x, as in the past tense, before you. Pre-Kylie. Not now. Anyway, we used to have an understanding. We were companions, friends who had s.e.x. There was never any kind of exclusiveness with it. We were never, do you understand me, ever like you and I. What I had with her was nothing like us, not even for a day like you and me." As he spoke, his tone rose in pa.s.sion. He came forward again, nearly crawling to her so his hands were on either side of her, surrounding her in his arms as he again kneeled before her and enclosed her in his arms, gripping the edges of the toilet.

"She crashes here when she's on business. I told her no more s.e.x. After I met you. Right off. She agreed, but still stays here sometimes. She usually calls and lets me know first. I let her when I'm staying with you. Not when I'm here. You have to believe me, Kylie. I am not having s.e.x with her."

She blinked and shut her eyes for a long moment before she slowly nodded in the affirmative. "Okay."

He rocked back on his heels, his surprise obvious. "Okay?" He tilted his head as if waiting for the punchline or for her to continue grilling him or yelling at him.

"Okay." She nodded as she said it.

"That's it? A strange woman walks into my bedroom at eleven o'clock and you don't have anything more to say? You believe me?"

"I believe you." She answered in a low, even tone.