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Chapter Five
ISABEL
Tristan doesn’t know I saw him last night, but it was impossible not to when he left the bathroom door open again. I don’t think he was playing games this time. He was just too distressed to care, and I watched for several minutes as he briefly examined his chest for injuries, then stared at his reflection like he was facing off with a monster.
I keep replaying the awful encounter with Abe while I get ready for work the next day—the pain on Tristan’s face; the pure hatred on Abe’s. And the worst part? I can’t decide which side I’m on. Abe’s reaction was terrible—and maybe justified. Either way, I blame myself, since I’m the one who pushed Tristan to go into the store in the first place. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he needs to do this alone. He obviously doesn’t want my help, and after yesterday, I’m not sure I could do much anyway. I’m not even sure if Ishould.
I gave him a chance, didn’t I? Point blank handed him a platform to explain his side of what happened, and he gave me nothing. Four and a half years later, he hasn’t changed at all or come to terms with what he did. No wonder the prosecutor and judge had no problem slapping him with a three-to-six-year sentence. If that’s his stance, he probably deserved more.
I force away the bitterness as I make coffee. It’s Monday which means I’m in for a busy day, especially with my bosses away at a conference, but that’s the way I like it. The partners of the company already hinted that I’m up for a permanent position once I graduate in May. When that happens, things will finally hit their stride for me. I’ll have a career and a future to be proud of, security for the first time in my life—my own little white picket fence I’ve been chasing since middle school.
This drama with Tristan is the last thing I need right now.
A sound from the living room draws my attention, and I exit the kitchen to investigate. Probably Tristan having another nightmare. My suspicions are confirmed when I see his agitated state. He rarely sleeps, and when he does, he never seems at peace. A stab of sympathy pierces me at the tortured look on his face. What’s happening in his terrified mind right now?
As usual, the blanket has been kicked off, and I place my mug on the coffee table so I can retrieve it. It’s freezing in here today, and his skin is ice cold when my fingers brush his arm. I’m careful not to wake him up, since that seems to scare him more.
He made his own choices.
Maybe. But does he deserve this?
I’m already running late when there’s a knock at the door. Weird. Kim stayed over at her girlfriend’s house, and it’s too early for a delivery person. A neighbor maybe?
Tristan stirs as I cross the room to answer it, rubbing his eyes while trying to wake up.
I pull open the door and stiffen in shock.
“Mr. Haverford?” I say, staring at Kim and Tristan’s father in confusion.
“Hi, Isabel. Sorry to bother you. I have mail that came to the house for Kim. Looked important. I left her a message to say I’d be stopping by on my way to work but she didn’t respond. She around?”
“Oh… uh. No, she’s with Piper. If you want to leave it—”
He pales, then reddens. “Tristan? What the hell?”
Crap.
I turn around, and my stomach sinks at the disoriented look on Tristan’s face.
“Why are you here? When did you get out?” Mr. Haverford barks.
I wince at his harsh tone.
“A few days ago,” Tristan says, pushing to his feet.
“How? You should still have a couple years left!”
“I’m on parole.”
“I guess this explains why Kim didn’t want us over. I can’t believe she let you live here.”
“Well, she did. We’ll let her know you stopped by,” Tristan mutters.
“No need. I’ll be having a long talk with her. Her soft spot for you has gone too far. It was one thing to visit you, but this? You’re going to find a new place to live, got it?”
Tristan lifts his hands with an incredulous look. “Where else am I supposed to go?”
“Not our problem, but I don’t want you anywhere near my family!”
