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I heard him blow out a breath. “I’d say call your cop friend, keep him apprised of the situation. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but better safe than sorry.”
I sighed loudly. “Thanks, man, that’s good advice. Sorry for bothering you on a Friday night.” Since I didn’t know anything about what the man did other than Kink Nights, he could be in the middle of something. Had I interrupted him? No way to know, and I wasn’t going to ask. He was entitled to his privacy.
“For you, Henry, anytime. But listen, I gotta go. Good luck, okay? Call me if you need anything else.”
“Got it. Thanks again.”
As soon as I hung up with him, I called Rowan, my childhood-friend-turned-police-sergeant. He appreciated the heads up, but his advice was mostly to keep my eyes out for any trouble and report back if something happened. I understood, though I didn’t like it. Nothing much we could do with idle threats.
I just hoped that was all they were.
When we were done chatting—and I’d sent his husband my hellos—I slumped into the single office chair and held my head in my hands. First, I’d fucked up with Tristan, and he wasn’t talking to me. Then that Jason guy showed up, probably trying to start something or at least make me nervous. And Carl, who I hadn’t heard from but kept worrying I would . . . I felt like I was messing everything up.
I couldn’t control a single thing in my life right now, and I hated that with a burning passion.
So I turned to the one thing I could control, at least right now. I got back out on the floor, stepped behind the bar, and plastered on a genial smile for the customers who’d come to get drunk and dance their asses off.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle things tomorrow, but tonight, I was taking it one step at a time.
***
I woke up the next morning to the sound of a chime going off. Squinting against the uncharacteristic winter sun, I flailed my arm toward my nightstand, trying to find my phone. I blinked to clear my vision, opening my bleary eyes to glare at the screen.
Because I knew that tone. Someone was at my front door.
I tapped on the notification, and when the app opened to the video of the person on my front porch, I gasped and shot up straight in bed.
“Tristan?” I asked stupidly to the empty room only a second before I jumped up, reaching for a pair of gray sweatpants and the T-shirt I’d taken off before bed so I wasn’t completely naked. For safety reasons only, I waited until I’d hastily stumbled into the sweats before I flew into the bathroom for a quick rinse with mouthwash then lurched toward the steps, pulling the shirt over my head as I hurtled down six flights of stairs.
After launching myself off the last step, I ran across the foyer toward the front door, grateful I was barefoot so I didn’t slip on the hardwood. I was being ridiculous—somewhere deep inside I knew that—but I didn’t care. Tris was finally here, and I wasn’t going to take any chances on him leaving.
Reaching the front door, I flung it open, my chest heaving under the light-blue T-shirt stretching across my pecs.
“Tris,” I breathed at the sight of my very own angel standing on my porch, backlit by the sun. “You’re here.” I felt my face spreading into a wide smile, and legit butterflies fluttered in my stomach when Tristan smiled back.
“Hey, Henry. Sorry for stopping by so early. Can I come in?”
I glanced at the phone I still had in my hand then waved him off. “It’s already past ten—I’m the lazy one.” I grinned ridiculously, but I didn’t care as I stepped to my right and waved him inside, pocketing my phone. “Please, come in, Tris.”
“Thanks.” The smile on his face fell, and the butterflies started to swarm erratically. This conversation was sure to be uncomfortable, and I hoped we would be okay by the end of it.
An icy wind whipped through the doorway, making me shiver until I closed the door to keep it out. Once it latched, I turned around to see Tris standing awkwardly, uncertainly, in a hat, scarf, gloves, and puffy winter coat in the middle of my hallway. He sheepishly glanced up at me, catching my concerned gaze. I couldn’t get a read on him, and I hated that. What had he come here to say?
Extending an arm to my right, I motioned him into my front room. I didn’t use it much, but I thought the kitchen at the back of this floor was too casual, and every other room felt too far away or not quite right for this conversation. Besides, I wasn’t sure how long he was staying.
I followed Tristan into the room and toward the leather sofa that sat against the front window. When he pulled his white winter gear from his head, neck, and hands and shrugged off his puffy winter jacket—baby pink, of course, and more stylish than I could ever hope to be—and laid everything across the couch before taking a seat, my heart warmed. He was staying longer than just a few minutes. Hopefully, he was here to hear me out. Hopefully, he’d accept my apology.
Hopefully, he’d let me be his Daddy again.
Chapter twenty-seven
Tristan
Itook a breath as soon as I’d settled into the comfortable leather couch next to Henry and glanced around the room. I spotted the tabletop Christmas tree we’d put on a console table in the far corner. The two smaller walls boasted modest artwork that suited Henry’s unique blend of confident masculinity and subtle femininity perfectly, and opposite the wall of windows sat a row of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stuffed with all manner of books. He had a library on the other side of the house—the main entrance was on this floor, in fact—but Henry loved his bountiful book collection, and I loved him for it.
Shit. Love?
I wasn’t sure I loved him, but I could see myself falling for him if I’d just give him a chance. Whether or not I would actually give him that chance would largely depend on how this conversation went.
