Backdraft - The Secret Life of Trystan Scott #2 by H.M. Ward Page A

father had done to him. The thought
made him sick. Trystan saw the offers and the endless requests to
reveal his identity, but he couldn’t. Now, it was everything he
could do to keep it a secret. He considered deleting the page, but
he thought that might give him away. If someone was watching when
he did it, they could track him down. The risk was too great, so he
left it there and watched the comments and likes swiftly grow to
staggering numbers.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly.
Mari’s big brown eyes lowered like she was afraid he wouldn’t tell
her.
    Trystan sat back down on the stool and pulled
the guitar onto his lap. He looked down at the instrument, his dark
hair falling into his eyes. “There are some things that are too
hard to tell—you know what I mean?” He glanced up at her to see her
nod and step closer. Trystan lowered his gaze to the strings and
slowly began strumming again. He waited a moment before asking, “Is
the door closed?” His voice was so soft he could barely hear
it.
    “Yes,” she breathed, watching him
closely.
    Trystan nodded and started the song again. He
didn’t plan to sing, but as he played, the words poured through him
and he couldn’t stop. This was what he wanted, he wanted her to
know. He wanted her to believe him. Trystan forced himself to look
her in the eye as he sang and felt the bottom of his stomach lurch
into a free-fall that didn’t seem to end. Mari’s big brown eyes
locked with his as he sang. She breathed slowly, her slender
fingers still pressed to her lips.
    Suddenly, the song didn’t seem melancholy
anymore. It was Mari’s song and Mari was here. The corners of
Trystan’s mouth pulled up slightly, giving him a ghost of smile.
His voice and the music flowed together, mingling and conveying the
things locked inside of his heart.
    Mari watched him. She didn’t move. Her
beautiful body remained still, standing in front of him, her lips
slightly parted. He took in every inch of her, every soft curve,
and every twisting brown curl as she watched him sing. When Trystan
played the last note he looked down at his hands. The music faded
until the only sound he could hear was his breath.
    Mari’s body was tense, her slender arms rigid
as her hands fell to her sides. She flexed her fingers one by one
like she was nervous. Her voice was soft, curious, “Who is
she?”
    Trystan glanced up at her. He pressed his
lips together and closed his eyes. He shook his head, indicating
that he couldn’t answer. The pit of his stomach lifted as his
throat tightened. Trystan could feel the words in his mouth, the
confession his lips that he wanted to bare, but he couldn’t force
it out. She had to see it for herself.
    When Trystan looked up, Mari smiled down at
him sadly. She sucked in a quick breath and it was like flipping a
switch. Something changed, but he didn’t know what.
    “I won’t tell, you know.” Mari said. “I
didn’t mean to walk in on you.” She stepped toward him, closing the
gap between them and rested her hand on his shoulder. Even though
it was only a moment, only a small touch, Trystan nearly jumped out
of his seat. Her touch set his skin on fire. It made him want to
touch her in return, but he couldn’t. She didn’t want him. She
didn’t like him that way.
    Heart pounding in his chest, he tried to
sound like his old self, but his voice was still too timid.
Nodding, Trystan said, “Thank you. I don’t want anyone to know. I
thought I was alone...” His voice trailed off. Mari released his
shoulder and moved to the couch. Sitting across from him, she
remained on the edge of her cushion like she might jump up at any
moment. Her hands were clutched in her lap, gripping her pointer
finger like she was wringing it out.
    “You were alone. I didn’t hear anything until
I stood by the door.” She forced that smile again, the one that
said her insides were being ripped apart, but he didn’t understand
why.
    Glancing at her, Trystan