Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Merritt
I looked up from the stove as Tristan came walking into the kitchen, dressed in his sweats and tee with Doc cradled in his arms like a baby. The dog’s stubby little legs were shooting straight up in the air as Tristan casually rubbed his belly, and I had to roll my teeth between my lips to keep from laughing. Levi and I had been living with Tristan for a little over two weeks now, and it had become clear that, if Tristan was home, the dog didn’t do much walking on his own. It was adorable and ridiculous at the same time.
It was also more than a little problematic. Doc wasn’t exactly light, so every time Tristan carried him around, the muscles in his biceps and forearms flexed and were on full display.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about all those bombs he’d dropped on me last week. The booster seat and the nickname, not to mention all the other sweet, meaningful things he’d done between then and now without even realizing; it was starting to get to me.
From where I stood, the man was the total package. Handsome, kind, funny, loved animals and kids, and selfless. I kept searching for a flaw, for any sign that there might be something darker lurking beneath the surface, but I was coming up empty. He was a good man. A great man. And that knowledge scared the hell out of me, because it made it impossible not to like him.
“Something smells great,” he said as he continued with Doc’s belly rubs. “Whatcha cookin’?”
“ Chicken stir fry ,” Levi answered in a tone that would make you think I was feeding the kid dirty mop water.
I twisted from the stove to where he was sitting at the island, drawing pictures on pieces of construction paper. I propped a hand on my hip as I shot him a look. “Whoa. What’s with the tone, little dude?”
His face scrunched up like he’d just caught a whiff of Doc’s poop. “It’s got vegetables in it.” He said vegetables like the word personally offended him.
My brows climbed up my forehead. “What’s wrong with vegetables?”
“They’re disgustin’,” he stated with a straight face. “And you put them in everything . Even the macaroni and cheese you made had broccoli in it. You’re puttin’ so much green in stuff my skin’s gonna turn green!”
I shot Tristan a glare, silently warning him to keep his trap shut when he snorted.
“I’ll have you know that vegetables are good for you.” And I had a feeling they hadn’t exactly been a staple of his diet up until recently. “They help you grow big and strong and keep you healthy.”
“And they taste like dirt,” he deadpanned.
“They do not,” I declared in offense. “I make them taste good. And that broccoli was drowning in so much cheese it was barely healthy.”
He threw his arms up exasperatedly. “Then why even put it in?”
“He’s got you there, Dandelion,” Tristan added unhelpfully.
If he wasn’t careful, I was going to slip something into his food that would have him running to the bathroom every five minutes.
I gave Levi a stern expression and pursed my lips. “Well, I’m the adult and I make the rules, and one of my rules is you’ll eat vegetables at least once a day. End of discussion.”
I wouldn’t ever admit it to either of them, but I might have been going a little overboard with the vegetables. But I knew Ozzy hadn’t cared enough to make sure his son was eating healthy, balanced meals every day. There was also a small, irrational part of me that was willing to do anything to make me look good to Levi’s case worker. If vegetables were the deciding factor in whether or not the state would grant me custody of my nephew, I’d grind them up and mix them into a freaking cake.
He crossed his arms over his little chest and stared me down, a challenge glinting in his eyes. “Fine, but I get ice cream after dinner.”
I mimicked his stance. “Are you trying to haggle with me right now?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Sometimes I could swear the kid was too damn smart for his own good. “How about this, you keep giving me grief and I’ll throw out all the ice cream in the house and replace it with nonfat frozen yogurt.”
“For the love of God, kid, back down,” Tristan muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Levi blew out a loud, obnoxious raspberry, but didn’t say another word.
I grinned victoriously and turned back to give the food a stir. “Now go put your stuff up. Dinner’s about ready.”
“Yes ma’am.” He hopped off the stool, gathered up his paper and crayons, and bolted out of the kitchen.
Doc let out a bark and began to squirm in Tristan’s arms, demanding to be put down so he could chase after his boy.
We watched them disappear around the corner, and once they were gone, I turned back to Tristan with a look on my face my mom used to give me and my brother when we in trouble for something.
Tristan held his hands up in surrender, a cheeky grin on his face that looked so good it was difficult to maintain my frustration. “I’ll eat all my veggies, I swear. Please don’t make me eat nonfat frozen yogurt.
The smile I’d been battling broke free. He was impossible to stay mad at.
I stepped out into the hall and tugged Levi’s bedroom door partially closed. A quick peek through the crack showed his chest was rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. He was already out like a light. I guess eating his vegetables had really taken it out of him.
A small grin pulled at my lips as I gave myself another few seconds to simply stand there and watch him. I hadn’t known a human being had the capacity to love so big, so profoundly, until Levi came into this world.
I’d always wanted kids of my own. A part of me still did. And I knew the love I’d have for my own children would be the same as what I felt for the little boy curled up beneath his wrestling sheets, because as far as I was concerned, Levi was mine in every single way that mattered. It was something I’d always known, but these last few weeks had cemented that feeling.
I had to find a way to make this permanent. I was prepared to fight for that, because it was the right thing to do, but I still hold out hope I could convince Ozzy to do what was in Levi’s best interest and give me custody. I just had to find the courage to go see him to ask.
I shook myself out of those morose thoughts and headed downstairs to clean up the mess from dinner. Only, I entered the kitchen to discover Tristan had already done it while I was upstairs getting Levi ready for bed.
The small kitchen table where the three of us ate dinner together every night was cleared. The dishes were loaded into the dishwasher. The stovetop and counters were wiped clean. And there was a newly-poured glass of red wine sitting on the island beside an opened beer bottle.
“Wow. Tristan, you didn’t have to do all of this.”
He looked over his shoulder at me from where he stood at the sink, drying off the skillet that always needed to be washed by hand because it was too big for the dishwasher. “Of course I did, Dandelion.” Every time he used that nickname, it sent a shiver through my body. “You did all the cookin’. It’s only fair I clean up the mess. That was always the rule in our house when I was growing up.”
I smiled and reached for the wineglass, bringing it to my lips and letting out a pleased hum at the flavor. It hadn’t taken Tristan long to discover which wines I favored, and like his beer, he kept the house stocked.
It was one of the many little things we’d gotten to know about each other over the past few weeks. I learned he wasn’t a fan of chocolate itself, but loved chocolate cake. He passed out less than halfway through a marathon race to raise money for Hope House because he’d gotten cocky and was convinced he could do it, even though he’d never run that kind of a distance and didn’t train for it. I learned he liked bacon as a breakfast food, but not on burgers, and he was scared of the dark until he was ten.
In return, he learned I loved mushrooms, hated red velvet cake, and I broke my arms twice in fifth grade.
“I’ve heard some stories from Blythe. Your parents seem pretty great.”
Tristan gave a small grin as he returned the skillet to its cabinet and turned to face me, leaning his hips back against the counter and picking up his beer. “They are. My mom was always the cool one to all my friends when I was growin’ up. Mostly because she baked a ton and handed it out to anyone who ever came over to the house. And Trick was a badass. I’ll admit, havin’ a cop in the house put a bit of a damper on my teenage rebellion, but he was never too harsh. He had a way of talkin’ to me whenever I screwed up that made me really think, you know? Made me respect him. He’s the reason I wanted to become a cop. One of the best days of my life was when he and my mom got married.”
My brow furrowed. “Oh, so Trick is your stepdad?” I didn’t know that.
Tristan nodded, taking a swallow of his beer. “Yep. Started dating my mom when I was twelve. They got married not long after. But to me, he’s my dad. It’s the same for Blythe.”
I had a million questions, but refrained from asking because I didn’t think it was my place. However, my curiosity must have been written all over my face because after another sip of beer, he said, “You can ask. It’s all right.”
The question fell right out of my mouth. “Is your biological dad out of the picture?”
Tristan snorted, and although he was still smirking, this one had a bitterness to it. “In a profound way.”
My head tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”
“He’s in prison.”
My back shot straight and my wineglass froze midair. “Tristan,” I said quietly, my heart squeezing painfully. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about this if?—”
He pushed off the counter and moved to the island, bending at the waist to rest his forearms on the surface. He twisted the beer bottle between his hands. “No, it’s okay. It used to be really hard to talk about, but not so much anymore. Therapy helped, so did talking to my mom and Trick.” He pulled in a breath as though he was bracing himself, then dove in. “My biological father was an addict, just like Ozzy. Only, he took it a step further and started dealing in order to support his habit. Problem with that was, he couldn’t stop dippin’ into the product he was supposed to be sellin’, and didn’t have the money to cover the cost of what he stole, so the guy he worked for decided that taking me and Blythe might light a fire under him to pay up.”
I rounded the island before I realized I was moving. Closing the distance between us, I placed my hand on his arm, trying to offer comfort. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been.”
“I can’t lie. It fucked with me for a while. The guy who took us was shot and killed in the midst of everything, and for a long time, I would have nightmares about those gunshots. Part of becoming a cop was me wanting to take that power back for myself.”
“That’s incredibly brave of you.”
“Trick was the one who saved us. As soon as he found out we were missing, he put together a team and turned the whole damn town upside down to find us.” He let out a chuckle that was full of so much pain and anger, it grated like nails on a chalkboard. “A man who was no relation to us was ready to burn the world to the ground for us while the man who had a hand in creating us tried to run as soon as he found out we’d been taken.”
I sucked in a pained gasp. “Tristan.”
“We were in that situation because of him , and that fucker just took off. Tried to get out of town before anyone caught on. Trick found him before he could skip town. That’s why Trick is our father. That other guy stopped existing for me the moment his choices put my sister’s and my lives at risk.”
I moved on instinct, closing the very last bit of distance between us and wrapping my arms around Tristan’s waist. He froze for the length of two heartbeats before lifting his arms and closing them around me, tightening the hug. It was the first time we’d touched in such a way. While the intimacy of the embrace made my heart race and my skin feel tight, I ignored the instinct clawing at me to let go and run out of there before things could go any further, stomping that feeling down.
It didn’t matter I was drawn to the man in a way that felt exciting and dangerous at the same time. What I felt for him became stronger every day, scaring the absolute shit out of me.
It didn’t matter, because this was what he needed. After sharing such a painful story, he needed care and comfort, and offering him that was the very least I could do, given all he’d done for Levi and me.
“If I knew all it took to get a hug from you was to share a sob story, I would have told you a long time ago.”
I pulled back and pursed my lips, shooting him a glare. “Don’t be a smartass.”
I whipped around and stomped away from the island. “Wait, wait!” he called after me, humor dripping from his words. “Don’t go.”
I stopped and turned back to face him, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I need to tell you about the time I was playin’ dodgeball and got hit in the stomach so hard I peed my pants. It was an incredibly tragic moment that still scars me to this day.” He lifted his arms out to his sides. “Hug it out?”
I flipped him off and stormed out of the kitchen, but as the sound of his laughter followed after me, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.