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Her smile fades as her eyes narrow at me. “I’m a big girl, Tristan. I can make my own decisions. You’re more important than some stupid job.”
“Some stupid job? Are you serious?” Now, I’m just pissed. “Thisjobis your future. You’ve worked your ass off to get here.”
“They’re not going to fire me because I needed two sick days in a row.”
I shake my head. “That’s not the point!”
“What’s your problem?” she asks, flipping off the burner and turning on me. “Why are you so mad?”
“Because! You…” My fists clench at my side, and I fight to rein in my anger. WhyamI so mad? I’m furious right now.
Because she’s screwing up her life again over you.
“You need to go to work, Isabel,” I say through a controlled breath. “You were all excited about that new opportunity for the hospital project or whatever.”
“Yeah, and I got to go onsite for a while on Tuesday. I’ll get another chance. You’re more important. You actually think I’d be able to concentrate after what happened last night?”
“What are you talking about?” I say, locking my fingers over my head in exasperation.
“What areyoutalking about?” she fires back. “Why are you pretending last night was no big deal?”
“Last night has nothing to do with this!”
“Last night haseverythingto do with this!” she cries, moving toward me. “Don’t you get it? You’re everything to me. We have so much to sort through after what happened. I finally got you back and I want to be here for you like I should have been from the beginning.”
She reaches up to touch me, and I duck away. The hurt look in her eyes stings, but what she’s saying is so much worse.
“Be here for me?I don’t need you tobe here for me, Iz. I need you to fucking live your life and be there foryourself.Be something special. Chase shit, find happiness, and go to your fucking job when you’re supposed to!”
I don’t wait for a response before storming down the hall to the bathroom. I slam the door and brace against the vanity, breathing hard.
She wants tobe here for me? What the hell does that even mean? Did she expect us to sit at the kitchen table all day discussing my trauma over tea? Cuddle on the couch while I regale her with tales about having my life ripped apart and getting physically and sexually assaulted in prison? Hell fucking no.
She already knows more than she should and more than anyone else ever will.
Except for them.
I push away the memories and focus on steadying my breathing. The reflection in the mirror when I look up is worse than what I expected. Dirt smudges the right side of my face from the fall. Tiny streaks of red peek through the filth, triggering a burn I didn’t even feel until this moment. My eyes are bloodshot, the dark circles beneath looking like bruises in the dim vanity light. Maybe one of them is. Pierce got a few good shots in yesterday.
Thisis the face she wants to screw up her life for?
I rinse the dirt and blood from my skin as much as possible. After patting the area dry, I recheck the damage. It’s not too bad. A few small scratches are still on my cheek, but nothing easily visible if I don’t shave. Not that I was planning to anyway.
A door slams in the distance. Hopefully, that was Isabel coming to her senses and going into work.
I leave the bathroom and head back to the living room. There’s no sign of Isabel, but thereisa groggy sister with an irritated look on her face.
“What was that all about?” she asks. “Isabel is pissed. And why isn’t she at work?”
“Great question,” I mutter, pushing past her into the kitchen.
I need coffee. Badly. Is every day going to be a freaking marathon?
“Tristan, I’m serious. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but she’s been acting weird the last couple of days. Staying up late? Calling off work for no reason? She never does that. She’s the most responsible person on the planet.”
“I know that. Trust me.”
The pot is empty, so I fill it with water to brew another one.
