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“You grew up learning that, did you?” Tristan said sarcastically. He squared off in front of Rowan, obviously looking for a fight. “Where?”
“Well, I went to school for it, but more importantly I was born to do it.” Rowan didn’t blink. “So were you, Tristan.”
Rowan, what the hell are you doing? Don’t you dare tell Tristan he’s a mechanic.
“Rowan’s Native American,” Lily interjected. “His tribe is really into herbs and stuff.”
“Oh, that’s so cool,” Una said. “I’ve always been interested in herbs, too.”
Rowan looked at Una carefully, like he was studying the air around her. “You’ve got the same talent Tristan and I have—which is unique, actually. Where I’m from you’d usually be like Lily, rather than like Tristan and me.”
Rowan. Knock it off.
“What are you talking about?” Tristan said derisively. “You and I are nothing alike.”
“Lily told me you wanted to be a doctor,” Rowan said.
Tristan backed off completely, all the fight leaving him. He looked away. “Like that’s going to happen now.”
“What are you talking about, Tristan?” Lily asked.
“Forget it,” he replied. “Breakfast, didn’t you bring a movie?”
“Hang on,” Lily said, standing and facing Tristan. “What are you talking about? You don’t want to be a doctor anymore? When did you decide that?”
“It was decided for me,” Tristan said quietly. “Not too many Ivy League schools accept guys who are being questioned for their girlfriend’s mysterious disappearance, Lily.” He laughed bitterly. “Especially not guys who have a record.”
“You don’t have a record.”
“After I left you that morning I went to Scot’s.” Tristan sighed heavily. “I didn’t hit him that hard, but his face opened up and he needed stitches. The neighbors called an ambulance and the cops.”
“But you guys fight all the time,” Lily said in a weak voice.
Scot had tried to get Lily drunk and take advantage of her the night before she disappeared, and the alcohol he slipped into her drink had given Lily a seizure. The next morning Tristan had promised to beat up Scot, but Lily didn’t think Tristan would take it that far—at least not so far that Scot would end up in the hospital.
“You and Scot got into a huge fight freshman year and no one got arrested,” she argued.
“We’re not freshmen anymore, Lily,” Tristan snapped. “I’m eighteen. Scot’s parents pressed charges. An assault-and-battery conviction goes on your college transcripts.”
“I don’t believe this,” Lily said blankly.
“Your timing really sucked, you know that? Agent Simms wouldn’t let me leave the state to go to any of my interviews. Can’t leave the state when you’re involved in an investigation. I tried to reschedule, but they all told me very politely that I seemed to be going through a lot of personal problems and that I should take some time to get the help I needed.”
“But I’m back. It was a misunderstanding,” Lily whispered. She felt like she’d been punched in the chest.
“They don’t care.” Tristan put his hands on his hips and sighed. “It really doesn’t take much for an admissions board to say no to anybody. Having an arrest for a violent offense and an FBI agent breathing down your neck would be enough to spook any school, let alone the Ivy Leagues.”
“Tristan, I’m so—”
“Sorry. I know. You said that already.”
He still has a future, Lily, if you tell him what he really is. Please, tell him. Tell all of them what they are.
“What about that movie, Breakfast?” Tristan said, deliberately changing the subject.
“Yeah,” Breakfast said, grabbing his bag. “Comedy or horror?”
“Oh, for the love of Christmas, comedy,” Una said emphatically, pushing Breakfast in front of her and into the living room.
