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I nodded. “That weighed heavily, too. Ross agreed that his bullshit was likely a one-off tantrum and not an ongoing threat. That he’s in therapy and on his meds went into the plus column, too.”
“I disagree with Ross,” Drew said, the hard edge in his tone surprising me. “Douche Canoe’s been a good boy because the protection order hung over his head, threatening to reveal his sordid past.”
I shook my head. “No, I really don’t think that would stop him if he was hell-bent on wrecking my life.”
“Guess I don’t forgive as readily as you do, Brick.” Drew picked up his key ring and jiggled his keys. “Glad you changed the locks. Wouldn’t want Tristan to let himself in and accidentally encounter me on the stairs. Fucker would go down.” He slipped off the barstool, grabbed his computer, and added over his shoulder, “Even if I had to go with him,” as he headed back down to the first-floor office.
“Drew—”
“Let him go.” Aithan kept peeling. “He thinks you’re making a mistake.”
“Obviously.” I chopped another apple. “But there’s a lot of heavy baggage behind his opinion. I have to make my own decisions and this one’s based on a propensity of evidence and experience. Tristan’s not a threat, Aith.”
He peeled. The scrape and chop of our work was the only sound in the kitchen for a few moments. Then he asked, “Are you sure?”
I put down my knife. “Yes. Unless you’re not telling me something.”
“Nope. He’s been golden at Blue Water. You know him better than any of us, but are you the best person to judge what Tristan Blaylock may or may not do without constraints?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because youdoknow his history so well, and he knows yours. And youarea forgiving person, beautiful. And he knows that too.”
I went back to chopping. “Yeah, well, one thing I know for sure about Tristan Blaylock is that he’s not motivated to be that deceptive.”
After boiling and mashing the chopped apples, I transferred the resulting applesauce into a container. Aithan went upstairs to nap. Being at the gym still took a lot outta him and he’d put in almost an eight-hour day there today.
I tossed the apple peels in coconut oil, then sprinkled them with cinnamon and coconut sugar and spread them across two baking sheets. I slid both into the oven on high heat and set the timer for twelve minutes then leaned on the counter and checked my social media accounts and email.
My agent had passed on the chapters I’d recorded on my current — hellish — project to the author and she was thrilled. Thank fucking God. A few audiobook narrators I knew had new releases and I shared them with my followers. Cross promotion was always a win-win and I was happy to provide quality work for my listeners when I was between releases.
I glanced at the oven timer. Four minutes. I turned to fish two trivets from one of the kitchen drawers, spied a figure out of the corner of my eye and jumped outta my skin.
Drew stood with his back to the half-wall that separated the stairwell from the living area. I hadn’t heard him come upstairs and he’d scared the piss outta me.
“Dammit, Drew!”
“Sorry, babe.” He looked contrite. “I didn’t mean to scare you, and I shouldn’t’ve been such a dick earlier.”
Hand to my chest, I blew out a slow breath. “Apology accepted for the first. And I’d rather you be a dick and voice your opinions than say nothing and quietly seethe.”
“This whole abuse thing triggers me.” He folded his arms. “You know that, right?” He sighed and pushed away from the wall. “No, you probably don’t. Not really. My dad was a monster, Zel. The verbal abuse hurt just as much as the physical blows. My nicknames were Stupid Little Shit, Scrawny Fuck, and Missed Period. I was dumb at best, a waste of food at worst, worthless, weak, more annoying than a boil on his ass. I could go on and on.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my left ear. “My point is, when I think of Tristan belittling you, I want to strangle him with his own fucking testicles.”
“Playboy—”
He pressed his finger gently against my lips and said, “I can’t separate my emotions from my memories without drugging my feelings out of existence. I tried that and it sucked. Gotta take the bad with the good. So I’m gonna be a dick about Tristan, Zel, but I’ll keep it under control. I’ll stay in my lane as long as he stays in his. Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“But if he veers over the line, I will fuck him up. Understood?”
“Understood.” Snuggling into his arms, I said, “Just so you know, you’re not scrawny or stupid, but you are one of my favorite missed periods.”
He snorted. “You say the nicest things.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “Like, ‘I love you’?”
“Yeah.” Drew’s arms tightened around me. “That’s a really nice one.”
