Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Whatever the fuck! You know what I mean. We can call Quinny, take his car. It’s a gray, ten-year-old Toyota. The most ordinary, nondescript car on the planet. It won’t draw attention.”
“But you will. You forget you’re one of the most instantly recognizable people in the world.”
“People see what they expect to see,” Trystan said, warming to the mad idea. “And nobody expects me to show up to a house in Southfields at random-’o-clock on a Tuesday evening. I’ll wear a hoodie, a baseball cap, something. I can pretend to be the pizza guy. Work with me here, Chance. I need to see her.”
“No,” Chance said, his voice adamant, his expression no-nonsense. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You forget that while I know that it’s in my best interests to follow your instruction for my own safety, I don’t actually have to do so. If I choose to walk out of here right now, you have no recourse but to follow me out that door.”
Chance’s lips tightened and he glared at Trystan.
“I expect this immature diva shit from the newly famous pop boys and girls, not from a seasoned professional who should know better.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Chance, but I’m out of options here. I have to speak with her. Before my interview on Thursday.”
“Fine. I’ll make a few calls and try to facilitate that meeting between you.”
But that wasn’t good enough for Trystan, not anymore. Not after what he’d learned about Iris being thrown out of her flat. He knew how much she’d enjoyed living there, how she’d prized the relationships with her flatmates. She must have been utterly devastated when they’d kicked her out.
“No. I’m going now. The longer I leave this, the worse it’ll be.”
“Can’t really imagine how much worse it could get,” Chance muttered, and Trystan tried to keep his panic at bay at the veracity in the man’s words. It definitely couldn’t get much worse. Iris wouldn’t want to see him or have anything to do with him. But he had to try.
“I’ll call Quinny for his car and get changed. Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”
Chance heaved a long-suffering sigh and the sound gave Trystan pause. “That won’t be necessary. She’s not staying with her parents. I told you before, she didn’t want to dump all of this shit right on their doorstep. She was desperate and felt like she had nowhere else to turn, so she took me up on the offer I made the day you kicked her out of your car. She moved into my spare room two days ago.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Iris is living with you?” Trystan asked, completely blindsided by Chance’s statement.
“Yes. She had nowhere else to go.”
“I didn’t think you knew each other that well,” Trystan said, not sure how to feel about this.
His sluggish brain was starting to finally put two and two together. No wonder Chance had been so uncharacteristically chatty and judgmental about Trystan’s treatment of Iris. No wonder he knew so fucking much about what was going on in her life right now. Trystan should have questioned that knowledge long before now, but he’d had his head stuck so far up his own arse for too long. He’d been unable to see anything clearly since that fucking article was published.
“We don’t,” Chance said, in response to Trystan’s absent-minded earlier comment. “But like I said, she was desperate.”
“How is she?” Trystan asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, eyes intent.
“Sad, exhausted, defeated… angry.”
“Angry with me?”
“What do you think?”
“I think…” Trystan paused and his brain stalled while his heart picked up the slack. “No. I know I hurt her. I know I broke her heart.”
He’d known that since he’d reread that article and seen the inconsistencies in the writing styles between the journal and the rest of the article. He knew Iris’s writing and that fucking article hadn’t been written by her. Not one fucking part of it. The only words he’d known for certain were hers were the ones drawn directly from her journal.
Trystan had no reason to believe Iris didn’t have a part in that story—she could have given that Evan bitch access to her journal—except for what his gut told him. And after recognizing how negatively this article had impacted her life, seeing how fiercely she’d clung to her privacy, her dignity and pride—Trystan had simply known that she was entirely innocent of any and all wrongdoing.
She was being so fucking brave in the face of overwhelming hatred and bullying. And Trystan, who had vowed never again to hurt her, to always give her the benefit of the doubt, had been the biggest fucking bully of them all.
He couldn’t fix what they’d had before. He knew that. But he could make this better for Iris. That’s what he was working on but he needed to speak to her first, to give her a heads up.