Page 112 of My Unfinished Heart

I manage to pull myself away, because as much as I want what’s about to happen here, I want to talk to him too. “Sit with me.”

While he sighs like he’s going to the principal’s office, we sit together on the couch. He drapes his legs over mine and holds my hand in his lap. He rubs my fingers up and down, one by one. I like it, but it also distracts me. He’s smart with me that way. “What’s up?” he asks. “What's going on with you?”

I watch our hands, focusing on the way his fingers feel. “I fucking miss you.”

He squeezes my hand. “I’m here. You don’t have to miss me right now. What else is going on?”

I glance at him. The sight of him so close makes my heart stutter. The truth is I’m a lost cause whether I’m with him or not. Every time I look into his eyes is like the first time. My mind races and skids around, trying to find some traction. “Missing you is my chronic problem. I could teach a class on it.”

He lets go of my hand to give my chest a firm rub. His head tilts toward me to rest on my shoulder. “Enough. I hear you. Talk about something else.”

But that’s the only thing I want to talk about, so I go at it from a different angle. “How is Connor anyway?”

His hand freezes, and he shifts his head back in surprise. “How do you mean?”

“Like, I mean, how’s he doing? With just—you know—life.”

Tristan drops his eye contact instantly. “He’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you call him and ask him yourself?” He doesn’t say it like the thought just occurred to him. He says it like a taunt.

“I don’t think he’d want to hear from me.”

Tristan shrugs. “He’s been known to surprise people from time to time.”

“He scares the shit out of me.”

He laughs. “You didn’t really live with him during his finest hour.”

“So, what’s he normally like?”

“Honestly, he’s a lot like me, except…”

“Except what?” I ask when he trails off.

“Except he generally has his shit more together.”

I frown at that. At him. “What are you talking about? Are we talking about my brother?”

Tristan sighs, and his eyes squeeze shut. “I can be kind of a handful. Connor was always the one reining me in. He’s the one who makes sure I get places on time and register for classes before the deadline. He’s like—my exoskeleton.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, he was. He still can be. Depends on the day.”

This is shocking to me. Tristan—the guy who showed up at my parents’ house to pack it all up for his friend and me, the one who can calm Connor down with a few whispered words—he’s the messy one? I don’t know why, but I love this for me.

“Okay, back to Connor in a second. I want to hear more about how you can’t manage your life.”

He laughs softly. “I’m like—a dreamer, I guess.”

“But you want to go to law school.”

“Hey, I can apply myself.”

“But to like—be a lawyer.”