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Chapter Seven
ISABEL
It’s been two hours since Tristan ran off. As is so often the case since he moved in, my insides have spent that entire time in knots. But it’s more than his haunted look and the conflicting feelings he stirs this time. It’s me. It’s Pierce. It’s my life that doesn’t seem as straightforward as it did just a few days ago.
Ever since deep brown eyes took my breath away, nothing has made sense.
“What is wrong with you? Are you seriously still mad about that loser?” Pierce asks, glaring at me from the other side of the couch.
Since the fight, I’ve been drifting further and further away, unable to stomach being near him. The boring documentary has transitioned into a boring sporting event neither of us cares about, just to have a buffer against the tension.
Guess he got tired of our tenuous truce and is ready to launch the attack.
I stare into cold eyes I don’t recognize anymore. Has he changed or have I? I don’t know, but what’s clear is that something snapped inside me the moment he fired that threat at Tristan. The fear on Tristan’s face shook me hard, and it was everything I could do not to chase after him to make sure he was okay. Only a monster would end a juvenile pissing match by using someone’s trauma against them. Maybe I always knew Pierce was a bully, but it took witnessing that vicious streak aimed at someone else to accept it fully.
“Don’t call him that. He’s not a loser,” I say, bracing for a fight.
“Why do you defend him all the time? I’m starting to think there’s something going on there.”
A flutter erupts in my stomach at the thought. “There’s nothing going on. I just don’t think it’s right to attack someone you don’t even know.”
“I don’t have to know him to know he’s trash. His record speaks for itself.”
“He made a mistake as a nineteen-year-old kid. One mistake doesn’t define a person.”
I hope not anyway, or we’re all screwed. Interesting how the guy on his high horse right now is the one asking me for forgiveness all the time. Not that I was ever blind to his faults, I just got comfortable with them. Comfort led to denial which led to… this.
“You’re moving out,” he says. “Tomorrow. I’m done with this.”
A fire I haven’t felt in a long time swells inside me. “No. I’m not.”
He stiffens. “Yes. You are.”
“I’m not! You don’t get to dictate my life. In fact, maybe it’s time…” My voice trails off as his gaze turns cold.
Wow. Where did that come from?
Where you about to break up with him?
“In fact, what, princess? Don’t stop now,” he taunts, and my pulse hammers at his challenging look.
Do it! Tristan is right. You’ve become complacent. You deserve better!
I study Pierce’s rigid features. Would he hurt me? My wrist still tingles from yesterday. Maybe I should wait until Tristan gets back. I may not like him, but I trust him and know he wouldn’t let Pierce near me.
Think about that. You trust a convict you haven’t seen in years more than your own boyfriend—a boyfriend you’re afraid could get violent. How did you even get here?
Fear and anticipation swirl inside me when I open my mouth to speak.
Say it! You could be free of this.
“Okay fine. I think we should—”
The door clatters open, and relief mixes with dread at the hope that it’s Tristan. But it’s a shorter, curvier Haverford in the entrance when I look over.
“Hey, Iz. Everything okay?” Kim asks, surveying the scene with a wary expression.
I feel the steam emanating from Pierce. He must know what I was about to do.
