Kristie Cook - Promise

"Everyone okay?" Owen called from outside. Not Owen, too!

"We're fine, Owen. Check on the driver and anyone else in the car," Mom called back. She lowered her voice. "Tristan, can you take care of Alexis?"

"Yes, I'll take her home."

" Sophia …!"

She ignored me. "Are you sure, Tristan? There's a lot of blood…."

"I'm fine, Sophia. I love her. She'll be fine with me."

I heard the confidence in his voice, but hardly paid attention to the meaning of the words. Except for that one phrase. He loves me?! He'd never said that before. While I rolled that over in my mind, wondering why he felt the need to say it now , they stared at each other for what seemed like several minutes, but it had to have been only a second or two. Then Mom nodded.

"Get her home, then," she said. I panicked.

"Sophia, please, no !" I begged her as Tristan bent down to gently lift me in a cradled position.

What the heck is she thinking? How could she let me go with him? She knew this was my biggest issue.

"Honey, I have to stay here and take care of this mess. Tristan will take care of you. Don't worry. He'll be fine with it all."

I didn't have a chance to argue. She already hopped onto the car's hood to get through the window and help Owen with the driver, and Tristan already walked swiftly toward the back of the store, easily carrying me like I was nothing but a sack of feathers. There was no real argument, anyway. Mom obviously had to stay and I couldn't exactly walk home. Not yet, anyway, and there was no time to wait—the sirens wailed just a block or two away now.

My head and leg throbbed with each step Tristan took. I bit my lip, fighting the tears and trying to keep a straight face as we exited through the back door. I knew from previous experience to pretend like nothing was as bad as it looked, so it wouldn't seem quite so bizarre when it healed freakishly fast.

Tristan set me down on my feet at the bike and I realized quickly I couldn't put any weight on my right leg. He pulled off his t-shirt and tore a sleeve off, bunching it up and giving it to me. "For your head."

I held the wadded cloth against the cut on my head while he carefully tied the rest of the shirt around my lower thigh, padding as much as he could against the cut, about two inches above my knee, on the outside of my thigh. I couldn't help the winces of pain.

"Are you okay to ride?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, "it's not far."

I couldn't even enjoy the fact that I leaned against his bare back, my arms around his bare waist, as panic and pain fought with each other on the short ride home. The smaller cuts on my arms were already closing. The bigger gash in my thigh hurt like hell, so I knew it would take longer—I could feel the shard had cut through deep, probably severing tendons or muscles. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears at bay and tried to focus on a plan. The four-block ride wasn't long enough, though. Too soon, Tristan lifted me off the bike and carried me inside.

"Um…" My voice came out in a rough whisper. "Bathroom."

He carefully set me down on the tub's edge and I rearranged his sleeve to find a clean section and pressed it against my head. He opened the cabinet under the sink and while his back was to me, I pulled the sleeve off my head again and quickly glanced at it. It came away clean. I sighed. Why do I have to be such a freak?

"Should we use these towels?" he asked, holding up Mom's pretty guest towels. Why we had them, I didn't know—we never had guests. But I saw the opportunity and seized it.

"Get the old ones in the kitchen, in the broom closet. Sophia'd kill me if I ruined her good ones."

As soon as he was in the hallway, I lunged forward to shut the bathroom door, quickly locking it before he realized what I'd done. I grabbed a towel—an everyday one, just in case Mom really would mind—and crawled to the bathtub. Tristan pounded on the door.

"Alexis! What are you doing?"

"Um…going to the bathroom?" I hated that it sounded like a question.

He didn't respond at first. I turned the tub faucet on just enough to dampen the towel and started cleaning my arms to see the damage. Almost all the cuts were completely gone, no evidence at all they ever existed. A few that must have been deeper were just red jags. They'd disappear, too, within ten minutes or so.

"Can I come in now?" Tristan called through the door.

"You know what…I'm fine," I said, trying hard to make my voice sound right. "You can go now. I can take care of this. It's really not that bad."

Guilt stabbed at me. I hated lying to him. I didn't want to hide things anymore, even this. I had the urge to just let him watch…see the healing process with his own eyes. He must have heard the lie in my voice.

"You are not fine. Let me in!" He pounded on the door again.

Damn it! I was precisely at the moment I'd been dreading and desiring at the same time. I wanted Tristan to know everything about me, but I was actually scared of his reaction—more scared than anything that already happened tonight. Will he call me a freak, too? Will he leave me? The tears finally welled in my eyes, not just from the physical pain, but also from knowing the emotional pain that would cut even deeper.

Ignoring his pleas, I took the wrap off my thigh, needing to see how bad it was before I decided what to do. The pain screamed as I twisted my body and bent my leg at an odd angle to see. Ugh . A wave of nausea rolled over me.

The shard must have gone in at an angle, because the gash was at least three inches long and jagged. I dabbed it with Tristan's shirt and saw dark red meat. I was afraid if I looked too closely, I might see the bone, but blood flooded back to the surface, hiding the worst of it.

"Alexis, I'll break this door down if you don't let me in now !"

I sighed. No question he could do it, surely on his first try, even. I couldn't fight the tears any longer and they fell down my cheek, one by one. I crawled over to the door, holding his blood-soaked shirt back against my thigh.

"Tristan?" I said through the door, just loud enough to be heard without straining. I heard him slide down the door to my level.

"What, Alexis? Are you okay?"

"Um…no…I don't…think so," I admitted, breathing through the pain.

" Please let me in." Desperate concern filled his voice and another pang of guilt stabbed at me. But I couldn't let him. Yet.

"I will, but I need to know something first."

"Anything. I'll tell you anything. Just let me help you."

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Do you really love me?" I finally asked.

"What?"

I pressed my cheek against the door. It felt comfortingly cool against my warm skin.

"You told Sophia you love me. Were you serious?" It came out so quietly, I was surprised he even heard me.

"Yes, Alexis, I really, truly love you with all my heart," he said almost as quietly, and I could hear in his voice he really meant it.

I didn't understand how either of us could feel it. It seemed too soon. But I knew it was true, at least for me. Until now, I'd only known love between a mother and a daughter. When I was little, there was a boyfriend of Mom's who I loved and I thought he loved me, but I was painfully mistaken. I hoped I wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

I gathered everything I had and pushed back the thought that I may regret what I was about to do. If he reacted like everyone else, it would be the worst pain ever. But I had to say it, knowing it may be my one and only chance.

"I love you, too, Tristan."

He exhaled loudly. "Good. Now, can I come in before you bleed to death?"

I wiped away my tears, reached up and unlocked the door, cracking it open. He sat on the floor right in front of the door. "Close your eyes, please."