His Purple Heart

25 - Surrounded by alcoholics

It was a long and quiet trip home. New Orleans welcomed me with rain, crying rain. The kind that fell in whispers and moans, while turning the world around me misty white.

I fiddled with my seatbelt, wishing Trystan had dropped me off first before Marisol and little Antonio. The tension in the car was palpable, pressing against my skin like oranges trapped in a net bag.

Once again that brooding man sitting at a bar, nursing a drink he had no intention of drinking was back. Trystan kept his eyes on the road, never once glancing at me until the car came to a stop on the side of the road in front of my apartment.

He didn't look happy. His jaw was tightly clenched, his gaze hard as steel. I looked away and swallowed, running my sweaty palms along my white dress that now had a stain on it thanks to little Antonio.

"You're going to have to tell me where we go from here, Debra," he said in a low voice edged with vulnerability. "You've been cold and distant the entire day. I can't take it."

I risked another glance at him. This time his eyes had soften, just a little. Enough that my fingers itched to touch his face and my lips craved to kiss the bruise on his brow. Even when he got all dismal, his lips stretching into a thin line, I wanted to be closer to him. How weird was that?

I could feel the tension rolling off of him in surges, but his body language was that of a relaxed man. One hand splayed out casually on his jeans while the other rested on the car door. I wasn't fooled though. Trystan was the definition of potential danger. And now he was staring at me, his gaze cool like melting pistachio ice cream.

"I spoke to Marisol," I finally managed.

"And?" Trystan didn't so much as blink an eyelash.

"She told me about your drinking habits."

"Past drinking habits. What about it?" His perfect eyebrows lifted in question.

"I... I'm not sure that's something I want to get involved with." I looked down at my lap, avoiding his gaze.

He was silent for a long time before he spoke again. "Are you fishing for a reason to get rid of me?"

"I'm just telling you how I feel. I've been nothing but honest with you."

"And so have I. I wanted to take things slow for your sake, and I was more than willing to give you time, but you said you were sure. I don't understand you." He shook his head and looked out the window at a little girl walking by in the rain with her dog.

"Are you talking about the sex?" I asked.

"It wasn't just sex for me. Don't you get that?" This time when he looked at me, I saw an outpouring of need in his eyes.

"What are you saying, Trystan?"

"I want to know the real reason why you're running away from me the day after I made love to you. After you let me touch and kiss your body, taste you in the intimate of places. Was I too rough? Tell me."

"No, it was perfect."

"It's the whole Afghanistan thing isn't it? Am I too cripple for you? Too dark? Too fucked up in the head?"