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“Is Beck going?” I asked.
Tristan shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Pops said it wasn’t really his thing.”
It didn’t surprise me that Beck Barretti, the oldest of Cade and Rafe Barretti’s children, wasn’t interested in the event. At 18, Beck was about to start his senior year of high school and while he’d always been the quietest of all of the Barretti kids, he’d become more and more withdrawn in the past year. He and I hadn’t been close and as far as I knew, he wasn’t particularly close with Tristan either, even though they were closer in age than any of the other kids in the family.
“Cade and Rafe aren’t letting him stay home alone, are they?” I asked worriedly.
“No,” Tristan said quietly and I knew his mind was in the same place as mine. It had been less than six months since Cade Barretti had found a then seventeen-year-old Beck just after he’d tried to take his own life by hanging himself. Beck had been struggling with depression for years and had been in therapy at the time of the suicide attempt. He’d been hospitalized for a month and while my brother had told me he was doing as well as could be expected, he still seemed withdrawn and distant and I had my doubts that he could be trusted not to try to hurt himself again.
“I think Cade’s staying home with him.”
That made sense. I’d seen the way Cade had looked at his son after the suicide attempt. I doubted he’d let the young man out of his sight any time soon. And to be the one who’d found him…
“We should stop by and see if he wants to hang out,” Tristan said.
I nodded. “Maybe we can take your dads’ boat out one day and go fishing or something.”
Tristan smiled broadly. It was something we hadn’t done in years but we both had fond memories of it. Me, Tristan and Beck crowded onto a tiny fishing boat with my brother, Dom and Cade in the early morning hours, the rising sun warming us as we’d explored all the coves and inlets throughout the San Juan Islands in search of the perfect catch.
“I’ll ask them if it’s okay.”
I nodded, glad to finally see the real Tristan back…my Tristan with his infectious smile.
“You want to watch something else?” I asked as I reached for the remote, but before Tristan had a chance to answer me, my phone dinged and I turned it over. I stilled when I saw the beginning of the message and I quickly opened the notification so I could see the message in its entirety. I didn’t recognize the number, but I didn’t need to in order to know who the message was from.
At the Pacific Hotel. Room 612.
I sat up straight and read the message again, then lowered the phone to my lap as I tried to absorb what I’d just read. I probably should have wondered how Memphis had gotten my number, but I didn’t care. Not in the least.
“Everything okay?”
I jerked at Tristan’s voice and glanced at him. “Yeah, it’s fine,” I said quickly as I angled my phone so he wouldn’t be able to see the message, though I wasn’t sure why.
Excitement flooded my body as my mind warred with itself. As much as I wanted to hang out with Tristan, the chance at meeting up with Memphis again…
“Um, I need to go check on something at the shop,” I said.
“This late?” Tristan asked as he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was only nine o’clock at night, but since Ren’s auto shop closed at 6 o’clock, my excuse really didn’t make sense. Not to mention the fact that Tristan could easily find out I was lying if he ever mentioned it to Ren.
“Um yeah, a client is coming to pick up his car tomorrow first thing and I forgot to get the paperwork together.”
“Okay…you want me to come with you?”
I shook my head as I climbed off the bed and searched out my shoes. “No, it might take me a couple hours to go through everything…it was a total rebuild so I have a lot of things to pull together.”
Luckily Tristan knew little about what I did at my uncle’s shop so he didn’t question me at all. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
I nodded as the guilt weighed heavily on me. It wasn’t like I was doing something wrong, but the idea of telling Tristan I was meeting a guy for a hook-up didn’t sit well with me. Maybe it was my subconscious telling me not to pursue something with Memphis since it wasn’t about anything more than sex anyway, but I ignored the voice in my head and tugged on my jacket.
