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“Will Pierce do time?” Kim asks.
Dad sighs. “I hope so. I’ll do everything I can to make sure he does. For now, let’s just be glad Tristan is okay and Pierce will face at least some consequences for his actions. I also want to hear the rest of what happened with the Huberts. Tell me every detail you can remember exactly as you remember it. I still wish you’d let me be there.”
Kim grunts and settles back into her seat. “It went better than your lawyer brain would accept anyway.”
I crack a smile that widens when Dad returns a mock scowl. He shuts up, though, and lets Kim continue the story.
I should probably stay and participate, but honestly, all I want is a bed and a stubborn, bossy woman in my arms. She must be thinking the same when she leads me toward the hallway.
The conversation stalls at our sudden retreat, but the others must understand when they quickly resume and allow us to leave.
“You look tired,” Iz says as we approach her room.
“Yeah. It’s been a long day. That visit was rough. Amazing, but really hard.”
“Amazing?”
My lips tick up at the memory. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I just want to absorb it. They gave me a lot to think about.”
Things like how much poison is trapped inside me that’s preventing any kind of healing. How can I have any hope of a future if I stay mired in a state of decay? Maybe Iz and Kim are right. Maybe I do need help to pull myself out of my prison and exorcise the demons instead of running from them. Maybe once I start purging all the things I’m not, I’ll be able to start discovering who I am.
For now, Isabel’s giant grin as she opens her door has me concerned.
I move inside and stop cold.
“What is this?” I ask, taking in the redecorated space. There’s another small dresser that wasn’t there before and her purple comforter is now black. There’s also… oh my god.
“I want you to share this room with me,” she says softly. “I want you here with me every night and every morning.”
Her gaze is full of love and excitement when it rests on me. “And I especially want to hear you play that.”
She waves at the Taylor guitar on a stand at the foot of the bed. It’s no twenty-two thousand vintage Martin, but it must have cost at least two or three. “Are you… wait… how…?”
She shrugs with a mischievous look. “I know people.”
“Do you now…” I say, walking her toward the bed.
“Yep. So, so many people.”
“Uh-huh.”
She falls to her back on the new comforter and becomes a freaking masterpiece when she reaches up for me to join her. I take her fingers and squeeze, but don’t let her pull me down.
“I will. I just need to do the drain shit. Give me a second?”
Her expression wilts into concern and she pushes herself up.
“I’ll help you.”
“It’s fine. My mom is still here. She can—”
“Tristan? I’m doing it. Let’s go.”
I bite back a smile as she grabs my hand and drags me across the hall to the bathroom.
“Take your shirt off,” she commands after closing the door.
“Ah, so that’s why you insisted on doing this,” I say with a grin.
