Page 71 of My Unfinished Heart

He asks about Jayne, and I struggle to remember what she looks like for a second. All I can picture is Tristan. “I haven't talked to her lately.”

“Why not?”

“I just…” I stare off into space for a few seconds. “I’m just not interested.”

“Are you joking? You don't have to marry her. You liked her before. What’d she do wrong?”

“She’s just…you know…” Not for me.

“Has she been in touch?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“But you're not interested.”

I shake my head, a subtle side to side. A sharp memory of Tristan breaks through the sludge of scotch in my brain. He’s kneeling in front of me, icing my knee, a lock of his hair wrapped around my finger. “I just…I got sidetracked. With other stuff.”

West narrows his eyes at me. “Like what?”

“Painting. I've been painting the house and painting some paintings.”

He looks amused. Why isn’t he as drunk as I am?

My gaze wanders around the small room.

“Brother, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s almost laughing.

I take a deep breath and sigh it out, adjusting my position in the rather uncomfortable chair, sinking down as far as I can go, my legs and feet spread wide, my drink balancing on a thigh. “I did something I shouldn't have done.”

“That's not very surprising.”

“This may have been a little worse. Across the board.”

“Why don't you let me be the judge of that?”

Yeah, sure. All right. Fuck it. “It had to do with this person. I mentioned them before. Tristan?”

“Your brother’s best friend?” he asks, hitting the words hard. “Yeah, you mentioned them.”

So, he picked up on that. Good. That might make this next part easier.

“Tristan is male.”

“Ah.”

“So, I don’t know if you know this about me,” I begin in a broad tone. “But I like girls and guys.”

He snaps his fingers and leans toward me across his desk. “Samuel Kincaid.”

I nod. That is indeed the name of the kid I sort of hooked up with in eighth grade.

“Damn,” he says, incredulous. He leans back, landing heavily against his chair.

“Okay. So…Tristan.”

“Well, maybe you see where I'm going with this,” I say.

“It was my understanding that he didn't matter because he was moving away.”