The thought was rebellious. I’d never done such a thing before. Never disobeyed my father like that.
If he found out, he would lose his mind.
I really wanted to see Tristian though—and that desire to be close to him again won.
I’ll come to you.
What’s your address?
I waited, heart thrumming madly. My replies were all instinct, and now as I held my breath in anticipation of Tristian’s return message, I realized just how irrational I was being. I’d just asked for his address—hishomeaddress. As if I knew what to do with a man like him behind closed doors.
I’d invited myself over his place!I would never, ever have done that in a million years.
Just like I’d never have snuck out before. And yet look at yourself.
Tristian’s response came through, his apartment number and the road. It wasn’t far—a bus ride and a short walk.
Quickly, I shed my restrictive, “perfect daughter” clothes, letting them fall in a heap. I pulled on a pair of jeans and my favorite baby tee, my pulse racing with a mix of adrenaline and terror. Still cold, I went to yank on Tristian’s grey hoodie over the top, then paused. If anyone at home intercepted me on the stairs—Camila, Mama,him—I didn’t want to have to explain where the man-scented hoodie had come from. Instead, I folded it, tucked it into my bag. I ran a brush through my hair, spritzed on some body mist, took a deep breath, and moved.
I crept out of my room, my socks muffling my steps on the hardwood. As I reached the top of the stairs, my father’s clinical, cold voice drifted down the hall from his office. I paused, listening for movement.
“We can talk about the arrangements next week... that is if your boy is going to show up,”my father said, his tone dripping with disdain. I knew he was talking to a business partner, but something in his voice made me linger.“With his history, do you really think he’ll have any positive impact on the future of our business together?”
I held mybreath, feeling like a ghost in my own home.
“I just hope this all goes as smooth as possible,”he continued.“Eventually, we’ll need to bring him into work. Ingrid will be responsible for making sure he’s stable... That shouldn’t be a problem.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Was this part of my internship? The opportunity he spoke so highly of? Though I knew I shouldn’t have expected much. I wasn’t a daughter to him; I was a tool—an asset to be used to manage a partner’s “unstable” son.
All the more reason to rebel against him.
I slipped down the stairs, sweeping for Mama or Camila. No sign of them. At the front door, I pulled on my sneakers, gave my bag a final check, went to fling open the door—
When a small, firm hand gripped my elbow. I gasped, turning to see my abuelita. She looked at the baby tee, my sliver of midriff, the sneakers, then the door, then back up at me with eyes that saw everything.
“¿A dónde vas, mi nieta?” she whispered.
“I have to go, Abuelita. Please,” I pleaded softly.
From the office, I heard my father’s heavy footsteps. Abuelita’s gaze hardened. She reached into her apron, and for a second, I saw the edge ofla chancla. She stepped toward the stairs, effectively blocking my father’s path before he could even turn the corner.
“Go,” she hissed, her voice switching to a protective growl directed toward the office. “I will deal with your father. You go be young.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, kissing her cheek before slipping out into the afternoon light.
By the time I reached the apartment complex, my heart was a drum in my ears. Showing up was the bravest—or stupidest—thing I’d ever done. I stood at Tristian’s door, hand trembling as I knocked.
It swung open almost instantly.
And there he was.
Tristian leaned one forearm on the doorframe, wearing a dark long-sleeve that clung to his chest and pants slung low on his hips. His dirty blonde hair was damp, brushed back, his beard trimmed, the lines sharp. He smelled faintly of woodsmoke and heat—something distinctly masculine andhim.
I realized I was staring when he cleared his throat.
“H-hi, Tristian,” I whispered.
“Hello, Ingrid.” His raspy voice sent a shiver straight down my spine.
