The Reckoning Read online

  “Sorry?”

  “Like, they’re not going to try anything else right? You don’t think they’ll go after you again?”

  “They will be expelled if they do, so no, I don’t think so. I am sure the comments will probably be nastier than ever, but that’s OK. They don’t bother me anymore.”

  “Pathetic.” Ellie shook her head in unison with Joe, who hadn’t stopped.

  The rest of Tristan’s shift was uneventful, and, once she’d clocked out, she changed in the bathroom for her date with Beckett. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the clothes she grabbed, so Tristan was relieved to see she’d picked jeans and a long-sleeved, v-neck green shirt instead of, say, jeans and a pair of leggings.

  Tristan said goodbye to Ellie and Joe, and went out to meet Beckett, who was waiting for her in the parking lot. He smiled at her when she got in the Jeep.

  “Did I ever tell you that you look great in green? And red. And black. And white. And blue.”

  Tristan laughed.

  “I think you’ve mentioned it. Thanks. How was your night?”

  Beckett shrugged.

  “My parents were just warming up their vocal chords when I left, so probably by now the neighbors are listening to the dulcet tones of them screaming at each other.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tristan took his hand, and Beckett squeezed it.

  “I’m sorry that I’m always complaining about them.”

  “Don’t be.”

  Beckett drove them to the theatre, and he took her hand again as they approached the old building. Tristan smiled at him, and then looked ahead, her eyes widening in surprise.

  “Hi!” Olivia greeted, grinning from where she stood beside Tyler, who greeted them as well.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Tristan replied, smiling back at them.

  “I figured you wouldn’t mind if they joined us,” Beckett said, and Tristan shook her head, confirming.

  The classic movie was campy in the best way, and good for several unexpected jumps. Tristan, who did not normally enjoy horror movies, enjoyed the experience with Beckett and Olivia and Tyler. When the movie ended, the four of them went to Mack’s Diner, and Tristan was relieved to not see anyone who would ruin the extremely good night she was having.

  As it always seemed to go, however, Tristan had relaxed too soon. As they were wrapping up their meal, Eva Revet approached their table.

  “Hi Beckett,” Eva said, her voice ice cold and her eyes even colder.

  Beckett just looked at her, and Tristan felt him tense up beside her.

  “Go away, Eva,” Olivia said, a warning in her voice.

  “No.” Eva looked at Olivia, raising her eyebrows.

  “It’s fine, we’re leaving anyway.” Beckett nodded at Olivia and Tyler, and Olivia slid out of the booth, drawing herself up in front of Eva and making it as far as her eyebrows, not that she cared.

  “So this is what you do, I guess, you take your dates to the movies and then to Mack’s? How original of you,” Eva said, turning away from Olivia to Beckett, who was still ignoring her.

  Beckett had positioned himself in front of Tristan, and he twisted around to look at her, taking her hand.

  “Ready?”

  Tristan nodded.

  “You can ignore me all you want, Beckett, but sooner or later you won’t be able to.”

  “Um, creepy,” Olivia said, making a face at Eva.

  Beckett strode out of the diner, pulling Tristan firmly along behind him, and she looked at him once they got outside, her eyebrows raised.

  “Are you OK?”

  Beckett nodded, but his jaw was working and he said nothing.

  “What a weirdo,” Olivia muttered, shaking her head as she and Tyler appeared behind Beckett and Tristan.

  Tristan nodded, still wondering about Beckett’s reaction.

  “I’ll see you at home, I guess?” Olivia said to Tristan, looking from her to Tyler.

  “See you at home,” Tristan confirmed.

  The couples went their separate ways, Beckett still silent beside Tristan as he drove. She had just opened her mouth to ask him what was going on in his head, when Beckett’s phone rang.

  He frowned at it, not recognizing the number but noticing the area code was local. He pulled over, putting the phone to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Beckett Benson?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Officer Grieg, from the Lavelle police station.”

  “Yes?” Beckett asked, tensing up, and he saw Tristan frown over at him, worry creeping over her face.

  “Your Dad asked me to call you. He and your Mom were brought in earlier for a domestic dispute, and they’ll be here awhile. He didn’t want you to worry when you got home to an empty house.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Beckett said woodenly, disconnecting.

  “What’s going on?” Tristan asked, studying his profile anxiously.

  “My parents are at the police station. Domestic dispute.”

  “Beckett, I’m so sorry.”

  “Will you come home with me?” Beckett asked, looking vulnerable in the glow of the dashboard lights, and Tristan nodded.

  “Of course.”

  Tristan texted Olivia, who agreed to cover for her, and she and Beckett rode the rest of the way to his house in silence.

  “Do you mind if we go upstairs?” Beckett asked, once they got inside. “Sometimes when I need to clear my head, I like to climb out onto my roof and sit there for a while.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  Tristan followed him up the stairs and through his bedroom, which she couldn’t get a good look at in the dark, but which was bigger than she’d expected compared to the rest of the house. She glanced at his bed, confirming it looked exactly as it had the night she’d seen him from the gathering, and she was thankful the darkness hid her flushed face.

  Beckett climbed out his window and then helped Tristan out, and they sat together, leaning against the house.

  “I need to get out of this house,” Beckett said, shaking his head. “I keep telling myself that graduation will be here in no time, but it’s not getting here soon enough. And it’s not like I’m leaving right after graduation anyway, though I’ve thought about a short-term lease somewhere in town between graduation and starting college.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Tristan asked quietly.

  “At least two years now. The screaming matches started about a year ago, but the fighting started within a year of us moving here. I don’t know why. My Dad claimed up and down he was fine with the move from Alabama, but I think it became pretty clear pretty quick that he actually really resented it.”

  Tristan, sensing Beckett wasn’t finished, kept quiet.

  “I have asked my Mom point blank why she doesn't leave him. She knows he’s having an affair, and it’s clear she hates him. She hasn’t been able to answer me, but I have the worst feeling it’s because of me.”

  “Beckett--”

  Beckett shook his head.

  “I think she feels like she needs to stay because she knows he won’t leave, and if she does it’s going to throw my life into upheaval in my senior year, and she doesn’t want that. At this point I’m just hoping she’ll leave or kick him out once I go away to school.”

  Tristan nodded.

  “No matter the reason, though, it’s not your fault. OK?”

  Beckett gave her a sad smile, and Tristan linked her arm with his, resting her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a long while before Tristan spoke.

  “So can I ask what was up with your reaction to Eva back there?”

  “I’m just really angry at her and the other girls. I don't want to talk to or even look at any of them, and she’s the worst because not only did she tell them where you were, she decided to stroll on by and watch what was happening to you. What kind of sociopath do you have to be to do something like that?”

  “Beckett, I’m OK. I--”<
br />
  “And I’m not OK, Tristan,” Beckett interrupted, turning to look at her with a distressed expression on his handsome face. “You’re so strong, and I know that the attack awoke something in you that has helped you come to terms with it, but I’m not as strong as you. I still have dreams about finding you the way I did that day.”

  “I’m not that strong,” Tristan confessed, shaking her head. “Emmeline and a few of the others showed up at Rise and Grind tonight and my stomach about fell through the floor.”

  “They what?” Beckett’s jaw clenched, and Tristan frowned.

  “I’m going to have to get used to it. They’re going to be hellbent on antagonizing me now that they didn’t get away with something for once. Maybe not at school, but definitely if they see me outside of it.”

  Beckett pulled out his phone, shaking his head.

  “What are you doing?” Tristan asked, alarmed.

  “I’m sending Emmeline a message.”

  “No.” Tristan gripped Beckett’s arm, and he looked over into her pleading face. “Please don’t. Please, Beckett. I ignored them tonight, just the way you ignored Eva, and that’s what I’ll keep doing. I just want to move on.”

  Reluctantly, Beckett switched off his phone screen. Guilt lanced through him as he took in Tristan’s upset expression, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. Ignoring is the best thing to do.”

  “Thank you for wanting to fight for me,” Tristan whispered, her lips just inches from his.

  Beckett kissed her then, urgently, and Tristan kissed him back, shivering as his cold hand snaked around to the back of her neck.

  “We should go in.” Beckett pulled away, but kept his face close. “You’re cold.”

  “So are you.”

  Beckett stood and pulled Tristan to her feet, climbing back inside his bedroom and then reaching down to help her in, as well. They stared at each other in the dim lighting for just a moment, before reaching for each other.

  Beckett cradled Tristan’s head in his hands, kissing her, and she kissed him in return. He slowly walked forward, until Tristan's back pressed against his bedroom wall, and she tilted her head as he kissed her neck. Her heart was pounding erratically, her nerve endings in overdrive, and she was nervous in the best way for what was about to happen. Beckett pulled back and looked at her, his thumbs tracing her bottom lip.

  “We can stop if you want to,” Beckett told her, eyes on her mouth, but Tristan quickly shook her head.

  “No.”

  Beckett grabbed the hem of Tristan's shirt and pulled it over her head, discarding it, and then removed his own. He pressed against Tristan, torso to torso, his skin hot against hers, and Tristan's fingers trailed down his bare back.

  Beckett moved them again, this time towards his bed, and when Tristan's knees hit the back of it, she undid her jeans with shaking hands, shimmying out of them. Beckett went next, and the feel of him, hard against her, made Tristan tremble all over.

  Beckett guided her down onto the bed.

  “Beckett,” Tristan palmed his chest, and he looked up from where he'd been planting kisses along her collarbone. “I… I'm… I haven't…”

  “We'll go nice and slow,” Beckett told her, his lips brushing hers as he spoke, his eyes earnest. “If you want to stop, you just tell me and we'll stop, OK?”

  Tristan nodded, biting her lip.

  “OK.”

  True to his word, they went slow. Beckett eased her into each step, waiting until she was comfortable before he continued, leaving her only to grab a condom from his dresser across the room. By the time they got to the actual act, Tristan thought she was going to die from wanting him.

  The expression squicked Tristan out, but nevertheless, Beckett made love to her, giving her time to adjust around him and acclimate to the initial pain before he settled into a slow, rolling rhythm.

  The whole time, he kept his hands by her face, brushing his fingers lightly over her skin or gently through her hair. He watched her for any sign that she needed to stop or wasn't enjoying herself, but she just stared up at him in awe, occasionally closing her eyes and biting her bottom lip.

  Beckett had known it already, before this moment, but as he watched Tristan watching him, he wondered how obvious it was now that he’d fallen in love with her.

  ***

  Later, Beckett held Tristan close to him. He hadn't told her he loved her, not wanting to scare her away, so instead he hoped she could tell by his actions.

  “Do you have to go?”

  Tristan nodded regretfully.

  “I do. I wish I didn't.”

  “Me too.” Beckett pressed a kiss to Tristan's forehead. “I'm not going to see you until Sunday, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What if I just didn't let you go?” Beckett grinned, tightening his arms around Tristan.

  “That would be fine with me.” Tristan smiled back, her hand sliding up his chest and coming to rest on his shoulder as she kissed him.

  Beckett turned onto his side so his body fit against the length of hers, and Tristan wrapped her arm around his neck.

  “There's still so much I want to do with you in this bed,” Beckett told her in a low voice, and Tristan smiled at him almost shyly.

  “Thank you for being so gentle,” Tristan whispered, her black eyes catching and absorbing the watery moonlight that filtered in through his bedroom window.

  “I'll never hurt you, Tristan,” Beckett said seriously, as he smoothed a strand of Tristan's hair away from her face. “Not on purpose, not unintentionally, not in any way. I promise you that.”

  “I promise, too.”

  Tangling their limbs together, Tristan and Beckett stayed that way for a while longer until, on a sigh, Tristan sat up.

  “Will you be OK if I go?”

  Beckett nodded, one hand splayed over his bare chest, the other behind his head, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. Tristan took a moment to appreciate the sight of him before she slipped out of his bed, pulling her jeans back on.

  “You don't have to walk me out,” Tristan said, holding out her hand as Beckett started to get up. “You look so comfortable.”

  Beckett smiled, shaking his head.

  “I'll get comfortable again.”

  They walked downstairs, and at the front door Beckett gently pulled Tristan to him.

  “Have a safe drive home. Thanks for staying with me awhile.”

  “I will.” Tristan studied his face in the glow of the porch light, and Beckett smiled at her again.

  “Beautiful girl.”

  Tristan kissed him softly, slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him, and Beckett squeezed her back, not wanting her to go, knowing she couldn't stay.

  “Keep me posted about your parents?” Tristan asked, and Beckett nodded. “I'll see you Sunday, then.”

  “See you Sunday, Tristan.”

  Tristan left reluctantly, getting in her car to discover it was nearly three A.M., which was nearly three hours past her curfew. Pulling a face, Tristan hoped Olivia had done a good job covering for her. She drove home, her stomach rippling with the memory of what she and Beckett had just done. Tristan couldn't have hoped for a better first time -- she wasn't so sure that many other guys her age would have taken the time to make sure it had been as comfortable and enjoyable as possible. She was sore now, but she knew it would pass, and she looked forward to the next time. Tristan grinned to herself the rest of the way home, switching off her headlights when she rolled into the driveway.

  As it turned out, turning off her headlights was not necessary; as Tristan approached the house, she noticed a light glowing in the living room, and her nerves began to jangle. She should have known better than to think she’d get away with anything under Sol and Umbris’s roof, should have known better than to ask Olivia to cover for her. On a sigh, Tristan got out of the car. She would be honest with her parents when they asked what had kept her
out, at least to an extent. There was no point in lying -- aside from being terrible at it, Tristan knew they’d see right through it anyway.

  Tristan looked in the living room as she approached, and both Sol and Umbris looked up.

  “Hi.” Tristan grimaced and, to her amazement, Sol and Umbris looked more amused than angry.

  “Let me guess. You forgot you had a curfew?” Umbris asked dryly.

  “Is that the best Oceana could come up with?” Tristan muttered. She sighed again. “I didn’t forget. Ray and Gabriella Benson are at the police station, they were taken in over a domestic dispute. Beckett didn’t want to be alone, so I waited with him as long as I could, and my phone was in my bag so I lost track of time. I should have called instead of asking Oceana to cover for me. I’m sorry.”

  Sol and Umbris exchanged a glance, Sol’s eyebrows lifting in surprise.

  “Don’t let it happen again,” Umbris said, and Tristan nodded.

  “You better get to bed.” Sol looked up at Tristan tiredly. “You’re going to be suffering at the gathering tomorrow night, missing out on all of this sleep.”

  “And you guys will too, because of me. I’m sorry,” Tristan apologized again, twisting her fingers together. She hadn’t even thought about it, which was unlike her.

  “We’ll be fine,” Sol said, looking at Umbris again.

  “Goodnight. Love you.” Tristan waved and trudged up the stairs, guilt gnawing away at her gut.

  She had just reached her bed when her bedroom door opened and Olivia slipped in.

  “Forgot I had a curfew, really Oceana?” Tristan asked, turning and crossing her arms.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to say, and “she probably fell asleep” sounded lame!”

  Tristan smiled in spite of her frustration.

  “It’s OK.”

  “Are they super mad?” Olivia asked, looking nervous.

  Tristan shook her head.

  “Surprisingly no. They just said not to let it happen again.”

  “Oh, it must be nice to be the golden child,” Olivia quipped good-naturedly.

  “Why are you still awake?” Tristan asked her.

  “I was texting with Tyler until like an hour ago and when I realized you still weren’t home, I couldn’t sleep.” Olivia shrugged. “How was the rest of your night?”