Silence falls over the room as I finish speaking.
I hate that I’ve brought down the mood. It was a nice breakfast, somewhat lighthearted and full of energy. A vast improvement over last night. And I’ve ruined that. Although my life story couldn’t do anything but bring the mood down, even if it isn’t my fault.
“I should have run sooner,” I murmur, wrapping my fingers around the warm coffee mug in front of me. I finally lose my battle against the burning tears, and they spill over the corners of my eyes. “I should have been stronger.”
To my left, Trystan shifts forward. He reaches out with one finger and brushes away the tear sliding toward my jaw line. My breath catches in my throat, my body reacting to his touch as if an electric current flows between us.
I look at him, our eyes meeting. He’s such a proud, cocksure kind of guy, so hard to read, but his face is an open book right now.
Then, before I can fully process what he’s doing, he leans in and kisses me.
It isn’t hard or demanding, not like I would have expected from him. His lips lock with mine, warm and firm, sending a tingle up my spine, but he releases me without taking it further.
“You’re not weak,” he says gruffly, tucking his fingers into my hair and cupping my face gently. “You did whatever it took to survive. That’s strength, Sable. The greatest kind of strength there is.”
24
Sable
Trystan’s eyes are the most beautiful blue-green. They look like I imagine the ocean would look, and I feel like I’m drowning in them as he draws back a little, still holding my gaze.
He’s such a confusing mix of conflicting pieces, this man. More of a mystery to me than any of the other three—even Dare, who I just met. Trystan often seems to look down at the rest of the world from on high, as if he’s got everything figured out and is just waiting for everyone else to catch up.
But then he does things like this, and it’s like a whole other side of him emerges.
A softer side.
A kinder side.
I want to know this side of him better. I want to understand him, to get inside his head.
His hand is still cupping my cheek, and we’re gazing into each other’s eyes as if we’re the only two people in the world. But then Dare shifts slightly on one side of me, and Trystan’s body gives a little jerk as he seems to remember we’re not alone.
The veneer of casual, languid confidence falls back over his face, although softness still lingers in his eyes as he presses up to stand.
Ridge grips my hand gently. “He’s right, Sable. I knew it as soon as I found you that night. You were all banged up, looking like a boxer who’d just gone eight rounds. Looking like a fighter.”
I certainly didn’t feel like a fighter that night. I was still nursing injuries from the man who abused me for most of my life as I fled through the woods like a frightened deer. What part of that does he suppose is representative of a fighter?
Maybe there are more ways to fight than just one, a quiet voice murmurs in my head. Maybe sometimes running is fighting. Fighting to stay alive, just like Trystan said.
“Thanks,” I mutter quietly.
I’m fucking terrible at taking compliments, maybe because I haven’t received many of them in my life. Clint was great at hurling insults, and I got pretty good at letting the harshest ones rebound off the armor I built around my heart.
But compliments?
My fortifications aren’t meant to withstand those, and I don’t quite know what to do with the warm feeling that floods my chest.
Archer leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, his lips lingering for a second. When he pulls back, he gives me a little smile.
“I think today should be Sable Day,” he says, glancing at the men gathered around me as he speaks. “It should be dedicated to doing something fun. Whatever Sable wants. What do you think?”
There are nods all around, and the warm feeling in my chest expands until it seems to fill my whole body. I’m positive I’m blushing a little as Archer looks back at me.
“Anything you’d like to do?”
“Um…” I chew on my lip, considering the question. “Could we go outside? I mean, farther away from the cabin than just to chop wood?”