Chapter Eight
Trystan
I'm up before the sun—as fucking usual. But Chloe is still passed out across the bed like a starfish, the blankets tangled around her gorgeous body. I just lay there for a long time, watching her sleep. She's peaceful in a way she never is when she's awake, warm in a way that's too damn perfect.
She mumbles my name in her sleep, her brows furrowing, and I'd kill to know exactly what she's dreaming about right now.
Am I all over her like I was all day yesterday?
Is she coming around me? Or am I pissing her off like usual?
Her mind is a fascinating place. She's so fucking smart, so fiercely independent.
She thinks she can take on the world, but I don't think she realizes that she's never had to do it.
I'd kill to stand in front of her against the world.
I know her dad and Wyatt feel the same way.
She's always been ours to protect. Even before I understood what that meant, I knew it was my job just as much as it was theirs.
I brush my lips across her bare shoulder and then carefully pull the blankets up over her. She sighs sweetly, rolling onto her side. And I immediately want to skip every part of the day that requires me to leave this bed.
But I can't do that. She's already sore, and I won't be the asshole who puts my needs before hers. Fuck that noise. My dick has waited a lifetime for a taste of her. It'll survive one day.
I slide from the bed, dragging a pair of sweats up my legs.
Thanos lifts his head from his bed in the corner, one eye cracked open.
Like Chloe, he isn't interested in mornings.
He'd rather sleep in, but he huffs and then stretches slowly before climbing to his feet.
He stumbles more than walks into the hall, his eyes still half closed.
I chuckle softly as I slip out of the room behind him, pulling the door closed. We stop in the kitchen long enough to start a pot of coffee, grab my phone, and then step out into the yard.
The sun hasn't quite crested the horizon, turning the sky that inky, ombre blue-orange color.
Despite the hour, Tom is already in position at his window, ready to raise hell.
I swear to Christ, he probably sleeps there, just waiting for something—me, probably—to come by his window so he can fuck it up.
"Back yard, Thanos," I mutter, heading that way before the Chihuahua gets up to his usual bullshit and wakes Chloe. I want her in a good mood today, not cranky because she was up with the chickens, as she likes to say.
Thanos just lopes along behind me like he doesn't give a flying fuck where we go as long as he gets to piss.
Wyatt's backyard is nice as hell. A massive deck stretches off the back of the house, with Adirondack chairs scattered around a sunken firepit.
The back fence is obscured by massive flowering bushes that give the space a lush, green look, drawing attention away from the parched Southern California grass.
The same flowering plants march in neatly planted lines all around the back of the house.
I drop into a chair and dial Colton while Thanos sniffs around, looking for the perfect spot to drop a deuce. I'm not worried about waking the man up at the ass crack of dawn. I doubt he's slept much since Chloe skipped town anyway.
"Trystan, how are you, son?" he answers on the third ring, wide awake.
"Hey. Doing good." I clear my throat, not entirely sure how to even have this conversation with him. He's going to be pissed. So is Chloe, for that matter. "I'm calling about Chloe."
A tense silence hangs on the line for a moment before he sighs. "What about her, son?"
I'm marrying your daughter whether you like it or not. I don't say that, though. Not yet. As much as I want to blurt it out, I fucking can't. That's a conversation we need to have after Chloe and I have a conversation about what she wants.
If she isn't on the same page, I'll lose my mind, but she's been telling me for years that I'm too goddamn bossy.
She isn't wrong. I've spent years telling her what to do without even meaning to do it.
I won't fuck up the most important thing in my life by demanding that she give me what I want again now.
I'm trying like hell to play by her rules. The problem? I have no fucking clue what they are yet. I don't think I've ever known, but goddamn, I want to get them right. I want her to keep looking at me like she has since we kissed for the first time.
"I know why she quit her job."
"Why?" her dad growls.
"Her ex-prick-of-a-boss sent her wildly fucking inappropriate messages."
"Son of a bitch," Colton mutters into the phone. "How bad are they?"
"Bad enough to destroy her trust in him, and probably his marriage, too.
" She finally let me see them last night.
I wanted to drive to San Francisco and rip the prick's throat out again.
She begged me not to do it, but I'm still considering the option.
No one should have to read that kind of shit from their married boss, especially one in his fucking sixties.
"Motherfucker."
"She was afraid to tell you."
Colton sighs like he isn't surprised to hear that. "She worries too goddamn much about everyone else."
"Yeah, she does." I pause, watching Thanos for a moment. "You should know that she sent the messages to his wife before she quit. She's already blocked his number, but he reached out to her again yesterday."
"You are not making me want to kill him any less, Trystan," Colton says, his tone flat.
"Believe me, I'm right there with you," I mutter.
"What'd he want?" her dad asks and then immediately snorts. "Actually, let me guess. He wants her to fix the problem for him, right?"
"Yeah, something like that. His wife is leaving him. He asked her to tell his wife that she made it all up. Offered her job back if she played along."
"I will burn his company to the fucking ground before she ever steps foot through the doors again," he swears, his tone lethal.
I smile in response. There's a reason I respect this man as much as I do. He'd kill for her, without question or hesitation. That's the kind of loyalty she deserves from the people in her life. It's the kind I want to give her every fucking day for the rest of her life.
"She threatened to go to the cops if he didn't stop harassing her," I say, leaning back in the chair as Thanos lopes over to me, butting his head against my thigh. I scratch his ears.
"That won't be necessary," Colton growls. "I'm already getting dressed to go handle this shit."
"Do me a favor?"
"You going to try to talk me out of it?"
"Hell no," I growl, eyes narrowing. "The motherfucker deserves whatever you do to him. Just make sure you don't go to jail for it, will you? I promised her that you were smarter than that, and she'll be pissed at both of us if you turn me into a liar."
He's quiet for a moment. And then, "What's going on between you and my daughter, Trystan?"
"We're friends." It's not entirely a lie, but it's nowhere remotely close to the truth either.
She's the reason my heart beats, the future mother of my children, and my center of gravity.
I have a feeling telling him that will only result in him showing up here sooner rather than later to check in for himself, though. So I'm not telling him that. Not yet.
If he doesn't kill me for it, Chloe will.
"Friends, huh?" Colton says, his tone making it clear he thinks I'm full of shit. "She ran straight to you."
"She didn't even know I was here. And believe me, she was pissed about it."
"Was?" He would latch onto that.
"Was," I growl. "She threatened to murder me a few times. But she hasn't smothered me with a pillow or poisoned my morning coffee yet, so I guess she's over it."
"Sounds like her," her dad says, laughing softly. "She's good? Dealing with this shit all right?"
"Yeah, man." I clear my throat. "She's good."
He's silent for a long moment. It's one of those pregnant silences—the kind that says far too much without a single sound. And then he sighs. "Take care of her, son."
"I will," I promise, my throat tight. I doubt he knows how much I mean it, but I do.
"If she doesn't know you were calling me, you should probably give her a heads up." He can't hide the amusement in his tone when he says, "She'll carve your fucking heart out if I bust you out."
He isn't wrong. And I'm not entirely sure if he's rooting for my demise here or not. I'm not sure I want to know, either.
Once we disconnect, I head inside to make a cup of coffee and grab my laptop, determined to get at least a little work done before I spend the rest of the day lost in Chloe. But my ass hasn't even landed back in my chair before my phone is ringing again.
I glance over, muttering a curse when I see who it is. Fuck. I guess Uncle Colton called him.
"Hey, Pops," I say, resigning myself to whatever ass-chewing my dad is about to give me.
"Son," he says in response. "When were you going to tell me that Chloe is there? Your ma and your aunts have been worried about her."
"Shit." I grimace, pinching the bridge of my nose. I should have known my entire family would know that she ran off. I swear to Christ, they gossip more than high school kids. "Didn't think about it."
"Clearly," my dad mutters, and then he sighs. "Is she good? You taking care of her?"
"Yeah, she's good."
"Are you taking care of her?"
"Yes."
"Good." He pauses. "You going to tell Colton and Wyatt about the two of you before they find out some other way?"
"What?"
"Don't bullshit me, Tryst," he says. "We both know damn well why you haven't picked up the phone to let us know that she's there.
And we both know it isn't because you've been on your best behavior.
When you get quiet, it's because you're hiding something.
You've been that way your entire goddamn life. "