That was enough… And somehow… it was.
Chapter forty-three
Tristian
The scent of maple syrup and butter hit me. In the dream—the memory—my mother was humming. Knowing she was going to force me to eat breakfast before I headed out, I took a seat, the wood of the chair scraping against the tile.
She smiled over at me. “Well, someone’s in a good mood.”
“With your eggs? It’s always a good morning.”
“Tell that to your father. He leaves so early in the mornings, you’d think he was trying to avoid my cooking,” she joked, but I didn’t laugh. My father’s absence was always present in our home. Geoffrey filled the void where he could. It never stuck though. My mother wore her denial like her own personal armor, smiling through the cracks of a marriage that had died years ago.
“I guess he’s already out then, huh?” I muttered.
“Lawyers never sleep. He’s got a lot on his plate.”
“Everything except his family.”
She shook her head. “You know that’s not true.”
I looked back at her. “And you knowthat’snot true.”
She said nothing as she placed a plate in front of me, stacked to the brim with her famous homemade pancakes I loved. Then, taking my face in her hands, she met my eyes with a sigh.
“While you might be right, you’ve got to learn to give him some credit.”
“Why? For putting a roofover our heads?”
“For being the example of everything you should and shouldn’t be for your own family someday,” she said, turning the situation more positive like she always did.
“You always do that,” I muttered.
“Do what?”
“Find a reason to defend him.”
“Because he’s my husband and your father first before all else.”
I didn’t say anything. Because if I never defended his actions, and he defended the world for his clients… then maybe that’s why she felt obligated to make excuses for him. I would only do her more harm by pointing out the obvious. Still, I did it even when I knew I shouldn’t.
After finishing breakfast, I rinsed my plate before she could shoo me away. My phone buzzed in my pocket: a text to let me know Kane and James were already waiting for me at the gym.
I kissed her forehead goodbye.
She smiled. “Stay out of trouble for me, okay?”
I nodded. “Always,” I said, giving her a quick wink, and she shook her head, a smile making its way to her face as I left our home.
Four hours later I was in a cell.
I ran a hand down my face, puffing into the cold air. The chill from the concrete bench had crept up my spine.
My knuckles throbbed. The blood on them wasn’t mine… not all of it, at least. The skin was split, stained with a dark smear that belonged to Brandon.
I stared at the wall and replayed it. I didn’t regret kicking his ass. I never did. If he had kept his mouth shut he wouldn’t be in the hospital and I wouldn’t be here.
The guard’s boots echoed down the corridor. “Phone call.”
