Shattered - the Secret Life of Trystan Scott #4 Read Free Page B

kills him that Mari was hurt and he couldn’t stop it.
    There are too many things wrong with his life, too many things that he can’t fix.
    _____
     
    A noise startles Trystan awake. He rolls over on the old couch and flinches. His shirt is on the floor and he’s wearing nothing but his jeans and a tattered blanket from the prop bin. When Trystan had nowhere to go, he decided to break into the school and sleep in the prop room. No one comes down there early in the morning, which is confusing him now.
    Trystan blinks again and yawns. A pair of brown eyes and soft dark hair comes into focus. “Mari?” he asks, still half asleep. He wonders if he’s dreaming. Trystan blinks again, but his throat is still aching. It feels like his body was ripped apart last night and reassembled. Add to that the shame he’s feeling and Trystan can barely breathe.
    Mari reaches for him and smooth es her hand across his cheek. Her touch is warm, gentle. “Did you sleep here?” Her eyes slide over his chest and then back up to his face.
    Trystan stretches and sits up , letting the blanket fall from his body. He really doesn’t want to answer. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Mari, it’s that he wishes that part of his life didn’t exist. But, after last night he owes her. Trystan rubs the sleep from his eyes and says, “Yeah. I had to. I couldn’t go home.”
    “What happened last night after I left? I tried to stay, but they wouldn’t let me do anything. The police treated me like a child. It…” her gaze is on the side of his face. She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes for a second. When she reopens them again, Mari looks at the same spot on the floor as Trystan. They both have that vacant gaze.
    “I was worried about you.” She bumps his knees with hers.
    “I’m fine,” Trystan says , but deep inside he’s not fine. Somehow Mari got sucked into his private hell, and that makes it worse. Trystan couldn’t stop it. When he finally passed out on the couch last night, the whole nightmare unfolded again and again as he dreamed. That’s the problem with his life, there is no escaping it, not even in sleep. Trystan glances past Mari, looking for his shirt. “What about you? Did your Dad…”
    Mari stirs and sees his shirt. She reaches for it and hands it to him. Trystan pulls the fabric over his head as she speaks, but her eyes lift to his neck and lock there. She can’t tear her gaze away. “Dad doesn’t listen to me. He doesn’t hit me, but sometimes I think he will. Oh God, Trystan. Why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea—”
    “There’s a reason why you had no idea. I love you, Mari, I really do—but I can’t talk about this. It isn’t something that I want to share. I’m completely horrified that you walked into it. I’m horrified that he hurt you. I…” Trystan’s jaw drops open and for the first time since it happened, he really looks at Mari. He meets her gaze and holds it. She’s his refuge. Mari is his glue, his balm, his other half. Her brown eyes are wide. Her narrow fingers are gripped tightly in front of her waist, like she thinks she did something wrong. “I just want to get past it and now I can’t even hide it. Everyone is going to see my neck and know.”
    Mari is wearing an oversized flannel shirt. Without a word, she unbuttons it, revealing the cami beneath. Trystan doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she holds out the flannel to him. “Take it. It has a collar. And I have access to the stage make-up. That will cover up the marks in front. No one will know. Everything will be okay.” Even as she says it, Trystan knows Mari doesn’t believe it. There’s a look in her eye, but he doesn’t press her about it. Instead he nods and takes the shirt, grateful.
    Mari changes the subject and talks about other things while she dabs thick, cold , goopy, foundation on his neck. This will work. It covers everything. Her fingers are so soft and work so fast. Trystan waits until she stops