Page 27 of My Unfinished Heart

The pout hits my oh shit, I want him button, but I manage to laugh it off. “I’m not telling you.”

“Fine. So, was it hard to leave everything behind?” he asks.

That’s a much harder question. And a different conversation. “Will this be your first year of college?”

He doesn’t say anything, but from the corner of my eye, I see him nod.

“And it’s in Houston?”

“Yeah.”

A weight pulls through me, dragging itself through my chest to the ground. It’s not a long way from Austin to Houston, but it’s long enough, and it’s also a sign that Tristan wasn’t put on this earth for me to find. If he were, the timing would be better. The circumstances less shitty.

I place another wrapped coffee mug into the box on the floor. When I rise, he hands me a perfectly wrapped bowl. I take it. “You nervous?”

“The timing’s terrible,” he says like he’s reading my mind.

I’m sure what he means is for my brother, but I do wish I had more time. I wish I had a chance to know him better. I wish I weren’t his best friend’s brother. “Some things are hard to leave, but fresh starts can be a good thing,” I tell him.

“It was for you?”

“It was for me,” I say, my voice quieter. “But I came back.”

“A million years later,” he reminds me.

I laugh. “Six. But it was a good six years.”

“I won’t be gone that long,” he says.

I hope not. Taking a break from the mugs, I lean on the counter, folding my arms over my chest. “What are you worried about?”

“The usual. That everyone will hate me. I won’t make any friends.”

“Hate you?” The notion is literally ludicrous, and I don’t even think I’m being biased. “How could anybody hate you?”

“You sound like my mom.”

“I’m just saying you’re likable.”

“You think?” he asks, his eyes brightening, and it’s so fucking beautiful, it hurts.

“I mean—I’m not very hard to impress.”

He manages a half-hearted laugh, and it makes me want to hear the whole-hearted one again.

“You’ll make plenty of friends,” I tell him. “People will love you. I had a great time in college, and I don’t have nearly as good of a personality as you. You’ll be fine.”

“I hope so. Thanks. For liking my personality and all. I like yours, too.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You’re now the member of a very, very small club.”

He glances up at me, and his lips press together. His chest rises and falls with a quiet but deep breath like he’s about to say something major or do something that terrifies him. It’s a breath before a big dive. It’s making me hold my own. Heat rises inside me, some flame igniting. Some burst of light in the distance that says this. This is the path.

He blinks rapidly and turns away, back to the newly distressed granite countertop and the newspapers and bowls. His fingers shake as he reaches for another and suddenly stops. My heart’s in my throat. “You don’t need me in here.” He backs away. “I’ll do Connor’s room.”

When he leaves the kitchen, I can breathe again. I can’t blame him for needing space. I imagine I got kind of overwhelming there for a second with the weight of my fantasy destiny crashing down. I halfway think I would have kissed him had he not turned away. Ridiculous, I tell myself. Back the fuck off, Archer. If anyone in the world is off-limits, it’s Tristan. I need to get a grip.

I reach for the top shelf, thinking I’m grabbing the last coffee mug, but it isn’t.