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Liv didn’t realize it, but those words were like a knife in her belly. They couldn’t go back and change what Bullet had done either.
After Liv first explained what was in the subpoena, she never mentioned the paternity test, or anything else about Bullet again. The only thing she said was, “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Every time the scene at the Thomas and Mack Center played over in her memory, her humiliation grew. What a fool she’d been. To think she’d been figuring out when to tell the lying, cheating bastard that she loved him.
Harris had ridden back to the hotel in the cab with her that day, but she hadn’t let him walk in with her. She’d told him she was picking up her bags and catching the next flight home.
“I told you there was something important about him you needed to know,” he’d said as she was getting out of the cab.
Those words stuck in her head. When had Harris said that to her the first time? Wasn’t it at Pikes Peak or Bust? From what Liv told her, the woman said she had sex with Bullet that week. But didn’t all the guys go out the day after Bullet fought with Harris behind the chutes?
It continued to nag at her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t let go of it. Something wasn’t adding up. The problem was, in order to get to the bottom of it, she’d have to talk to Bullet, and that was something she wasn’t ready to do.
Need a ride from the airport? the text from Lyric said.
Catching a cab.
Need to talk.
I know.
Drink at 5. Hotel bar.
That worked. None of this was Lyric’s fault, and Tristan felt bad that she’d avoided her friend for the last two months. She needed to apologize, and hoped that Lyric understood why she’d been so distant.
Lyric was already at the bar, with a drink in front of her when Tristan walked up.
“Hi.”
Lyric jumped off the stool and threw her arms around her. “God, girl, I’ve been so damn worried about you. You look like shit, by the way.”
Tristan smiled. Only Lyric could get away with telling her she looked like shit.
“What’re you drinkin’?”
“I think I could use one of your five-ingredient cocktails, but that probably isn’t a good idea right now.”
Lyric motioned to the bartender. “Two shots of Makers,” she told him. He nodded and went to get the shot glasses. “Wait,” she added. “Better make that four.”
Tristan smiled. “What the hell, I don’t have any meetings tonight. Might as well get lit up.”
“It isn’t his,” Lyric said after they both downed their second shot.
“That really isn’t the point.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I can’t do this, Lyric. I can’t be with a man who randomly fathers children.”
“But it isn’t his.”
“Again, that isn’t the point. It could’ve been.”
“No, it couldn’t.”
How could Lyric be so sure? Was it because Bullet swore he didn’t have sex with anyone else that week? Or did King come to his defense and swear Bullet didn’t hook up with any women the night they all went out and got drunk? What about the rest of the Flying R partners, were they willing to vouch for Bullet too?
It didn’t matter if they all swore on a stack of Bibles. Tristan was done with Bullet. She couldn’t trust him, and she couldn’t be with someone she didn’t trust.
