Not Today | ✔️

Chapter Forty Seven.

"Anchor up to me, love..."

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Evelyn, again, was trying to summon some semblance of courage as she stood outside the wooden door, which seemed to be made of fear and anxiety instead of oak.

In her defense, though, this could very much be the wrong decision. Either way, she realized with a shaky breath, it was the decision she made and she wouldn't backtrack.

And so, she lifted her hand and knocked gently on the door. When she received no answer, she opened the door quietly, knowing Tristan was in there. The second she saw his sleeping face, she closed his door to keep the light out.

For just a second, she hesitated, but then she shook it off, walking towards his bed and kneeling next to it. It filled her with a subtle sort of happiness that she could see traces of Tristan in the room, like he'd finally begun believing that the room was his. That it was just as much his home as it was Georgia's.

There were some notebooks, strung across his desk messily, settled next to his camera, and he'd started a new wall of his photography, only this time, her painting was the centerpiece, tying all the black and white pictures together.

Her heart softened at the sight, but her eyebrows furrowed. At every turn, he made it seem like Evelyn meant the world to him, so how did he turn his back on her so easily?

Why did he?

Before she let her thoughts take a negative turn, she let her gaze slide over his features. She loved the rare moments when she got to watch him sleep, but it felt wrong seeing his lips puffier and more chapped than normal as his eyebrows knitted together in a permanent frown.

Even in the stillness of his sleep, his sorrow was etched into his skin like markings on stone. Hopefully, with time, just as marks faded from stone, the sadness would fade from him, even if it never disappeared entirely.

Though she didn't want to wake him, she didn't want to have him wake up on his own and be creeped out, so she raised her hand towards his face, gently tracing his cheekbone, before she traced the slope of his brow-bone, finally sliding into his curly locks.

She saw the tension leave his eyebrows as she ran her fingers through his hair and he let out a quiet sigh of content.

"Keeping me company?" he murmured with a small smile, his eyes still closed and his voice thick with sleep.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked quietly.

"I always know," he said, his voice just as quiet.

"It's because my breath smells like gummy bears, isn't it?"

He breathed out a laugh and finally opened his eyes in a slow, drowsy way before he frowned. "You're here because of what I said earlier."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she admitted. "Even though I know it's a loose definition."

"I didn't tell you to make you worry," he said. "I just didn't want to leave without explaining. I wanted to be honest. You deserve that."

Evelyn's facial expression softened. "I know that."

"So you don't have to stay. I won't be much company, anyway."

"What if I want to stay?" she asked.

Tristan's eyes locked onto hers and she noticed him lick his lips before glancing away. "If my mom were here... God, she'd be so ashamed already. I don't want to add to it. I won't take advantage of the fact that your heart is too kind for your own good. I can't."