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Picture after picture, memories surge through my mind like a rapid flood. An idea forms as I look at the photos, and I think I’ve come up with the perfect Christmas gift. If I can find someplace to do it on time. Otherwise, the candle may still need to be an option.
21
Hudson
My fingers tap against the keyboard, but all I can think about is Lex. Unfortunately, I need to work so I can’t see her until tonight. Being in Hartville has its pros and cons. The cons are dealing with my parents and having meetings more often with my dad.
I was hoping that being here for the holidays would allow me to slow down and do some research on the sports app, but that hasn’t been the case. I’m also still working through what it is I want at this stage in my life and if my teen dreams are relevant.
A loud banging noise and mumbling come from the hallway outside my room. Taking a closer listen, it sounds like Tristan. I hop off the bed where I’m working and open my room door.
“They always want to control me.” His hands are fisted as he pushes the door open with his shoulder.
“Who does?”
Tristan jumps and swings his head toward me. “A warning would’ve been nice,” he bites.
“Look who’s abnormally angry.” I raise my eyebrows.
“Blame your parents for that.”
“They’re our parents,” I remind him.
“Whatever. I rather they not be.” I follow him into his room.
“What’s going on?” I know there’s a reason Tristan traveled to town for Christmas, and I have a feeling it didn’t go as planned.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, shoving clothes into a duffle bag without bothering to fold them.
“What are you doing?” I cross my arms.
“Packing,” his voice is gruff.
“No, you aren’t. You’re staying for Christmas.” I yank the bag from him.
“Nope. It isn’t happening.”
“Okay, you need to tell me what’s going on.” I toss the half-packed bag on the floor and sit on the bed. Tristan runs a hand down his face.
“Our parents are controlling, manipulative…” His words trail off, likely to not insult them despite whatever they did that upset him.
“We know this,” I say slowly as if easing an angry animal.
Tristan drops onto the bed beside me, his hands covering his face as he takes a few deep breaths. When he looks up at me, I see a hint of vulnerability I’m not accustomed to seeing in him.
“I asked them about my trust fund.”
My eyebrows shoot up. That’s the last thing I was expecting. Tristan has always been adamant about not wanting or needing anything from our parents, especially money.
“I know, I know,” he blows out when he sees my reaction. “But I have plans and need the money. I want to open my own non-profit organization and help humanity the way the companies I’ve volunteered for have. That requires a large sum of money that I don’t have.” He shakes his head, disappointment marring his face.
“The trust is yours next year when you turn twenty-five.”
“Apparently, it’s not quite as easy as that. I have to be settled. They added a clause to the terms that I wasn’t made aware of. They don’t want me to blow my money on traveling and not working.” He scoffs. “They know nothing about the work I do, and they didn’t even care to listen to my plan. It was dismissed as if I asked for a Lamborghini on my sixteenth birthday.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Do they want you to work at the agency?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. That wasn’t implied, just that I was settled down. I need a plan to get that money. It’ll be worth it. I know it will be. Sorry, I don’t want to wear fancy suits and hypocritically talk to clients. I’ve got other dreams, and they can’t respect that.” He looks at me and frowns. “No offense.”
