Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 118592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
“What’s his name?” he asked.
“Her,” I corrected as I went and set the toast and apple quarters down on the coffee table in front of him.
“Her,” Tristan repeated as he focused once again on the cat. “What’s her name?”
When I didn’t answer right away, he looked up at me. I felt myself getting sucked in by his cloudy gray eyes. “Tinkerbella,” I finally admitted. “Princess Tinkerbella.”
“Really?” Tristan said, his smile widening into a huge grin. “That’s so cute. How did you come up with it?”
I felt a flash of pain go through me, but was surprised when it lingered only for a moment before dissipating. “My sister Janie named her that after I gave Tink to her for her birthday. I think it was from a movie or cartoon that she liked.”
“Does your sister live here too?” Tristan asked as he continued to pet Tink who’d curled herself into a ball on his lap.
“Um, no, she passed a few years ago.”
Tristan’s smile faded and he dropped his eyes back down to the cat. “I think she’d love knowing you kept the name.”
I felt tears burning the backs of my eyes, but blinked them away. It was exactly the reason I hadn’t changed the cat’s name, hadn’t even considered it. It was the same reason I’d never even thought about finding the cat a new home, despite the fact that she was a painful reminder of what I’d lost. “I call her Tink for short just because Princess Tinkerbella is kind of a mouthful.”
“Tink…that fits,” Tristan observed.
“Are you okay with her on you like that?” I asked as I motioned to the cat.
Tristan nodded. I handed him the plate with the toast on it and watched as he grabbed a slice and took a couple bites. He clearly wasn’t hungry, but I suspected his choice to eat had more to do with his medication than anything else. The reminder of what the young man in front of me had had to endure was hard to swallow. Add in the fact that someone had clearly abused him and I felt my trigger finger twitching in anticipation.
Tristan glanced up and looked over my shoulder. I turned to see Brennan standing in the entryway to the living room, an odd look on his face as his gaze shifted back and forth between me and Tristan. He seemed to remember himself and moved to the couch to sit down next to Tristan. As soon as Tristan had finished the first piece of toast, Brennan handed him the milk and then each pill one by one until Tristan had taken them all. He grabbed the second piece of toast and handed it to the young man who managed to force it down. When he offered Tristan the apple slices, Tristan shook his head. His hand immediately went back to stroking the cat and I was supremely grateful for the animal’s calm nature because she seemed to soothe Tristan.
“Can you tell me what happened to you, Tristan?” I asked as I remained where I was on the coffee table. I could have moved to one of the armchairs, but I wanted to be able to gauge Tristan’s reactions as he spoke.
The smile that had lingered faded and Tristan cast a glance at Brennan. When his eyes shifted back to me he said, “I’m not sure where to start.”
“Do you know who it was who hurt you?” I prodded.
“Yes and no,” Tristan hedged and he looked at Brennan again.
“Just start from the beginning,” he urged. “You can tell Memphis anything, okay?”
Tristan nodded and then dropped his eyes again. “My dads adopted me when I was ten. My mom died of a drug overdose and I was placed in a group home. I’m…I…” At Tristan’s hesitation, Brennan reached out to stroke Tristan’s hair briefly. I again felt no jealousy at the contact, even though I probably should have.
“I told him, Tristan.”
Tristan looked up at me and I saw the wariness in his gaze.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I said to him, though that wasn’t quite the truth. It mattered a hell of a lot to me, but not in the way Tristan was probably worried about.
It took Tristan a moment to start talking again. “They had trouble finding someone to take me when they found out I was HIV-positive. Brennan’s brother, Zane, was the attorney assigned to be my advocate.”
I remembered Brennan’s brother well because he’d been beside himself with fear the day he’d arrived at the hospital to discover his brother had been shot.
“Zane found a great-aunt on my father’s side, but she wasn’t interested in caring for me. I guess Zane also found my dad, but he didn’t want me either. I didn’t know that though when I…”
“When you what?” I asked gently.
“When I reached out to him.”