6. Tristan
Chapter 6
Tristan
H unter’s anger radiates off him like heat from a furnace. His towering six-foot-four frame, all pure muscle and rage, makes him look like he could tear me apart with his bare hands. His icy blue eyes lock onto mine. “If you believe you can just waltz back into my sister’s life after all these years, you got another thing coming, Tristan.”
I square my shoulders, refusing to back down. “Why can’t you understand that I’m here to make things right? I regret every moment we were apart.”
Hunter’s eyes narrow as his face grows tight. “You should’ve thought of that before you ditched her. You have no idea what she went through.”
My frustration rises to the surface. “Hold on. You might not know the facts. My father ran her out of Vegas when she was pregnant. I knew nothing about this until—”
Hunter’s harsh laugh cuts me off. “I have all the details, Tristan. I’m just surprised you weren’t aware that your own flesh and blood was terrorizing Willow. Why didn’t you bother to check on her, to see if she was okay?”
“Are you kidding me? I looked all over town for her after she disappeared. She was nowhere to be found.”
“You expect me to believe that?” His voice is a protective, low growl—a barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. “Your bank account is every bit as stacked as mine. Why didn’t you drop a few dollars on a team to locate her?”
I scoff and try to finish my train of thought. “I let her go because I respect her privacy. Willow knows what’s best for her, and I respect that.”
Hunter’s eyes flash to the window and back to me. “Privacy? Bullshit. You’ve got that telescope up there spying on her right now.”
Willow’s posture jerks upright before her pupils dart between Hunter and me. “What?”
Fuck. He must have gone through my things at the rental cabin. My chest caves inward as I meet Willow’s hard glare.
Her blue orbs bore into mine, her fingers flexing. Lowering her head, her chin trembles. She looks hurt.
My shoulders fall and I hate that I’ve done this to her. Why did I have to get that damn telescope? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Squeezing one eye shut, I focus on the man in front of me—the one that looks like he wants to pound my skull into the wooden floorboards. I glance at her again and hold up an index finger. “I’ll explain. Just gimme a minute.”
Hunter’s body seems to expand, his shoulders broadening and his chest puffing out as he stands taller in a protective stance. “No, you’ll explain now.”
Inhaling a quick breath, I force myself to face him. “I’m here because I love her. I had no idea what my father had done until yesterday.”
Hunter’s expression hardens. His muscles tense and ripple beneath his shirt. “So, let me see if I understand this right. You spend years away from her because you don’t feel right invading her privacy and all. And then you show up with a fucking telescope to make things right?”
My throat feels like it’s closing in on itself while the room spins. I notice my hands stiffen, my fingers shaking as I try to find a way out of this conversation. “Forget about the telescope. It doesn’t matter. Like I said, I didn’t know she was pregnant. I wasn’t aware my father threatened her, either. If I had known, I would have done everything to protect her.”
His eyes are sharp and piercing, set in a chiseled face with a strong jawline. He looks like he’s ready to strike at any moment. “And now you dance back into her life and play happy family? I did a hell of a lot better than you, and I’m not even the one who’s responsible.”
My gaze flickers between the beastlike man standing before me and the woman I love. The muscles in my neck and shoulders stiffen as I straighten my posture, my jaw squaring. “Look, I didn’t even know you were in the picture. Yet here you are, standing guard like a damn sentinel.”
He scoffs. “Thank god I’m in the fucking picture. If it weren’t for me, Willow and Lana would probably be homeless somewhere on the street.”
Willow crosses her arms over her chest. “Like I can’t take care of myself and my daughter?”
No one responds to her.
My nostrils flare with each quick breath I take, my fists preparing for a potential physical altercation. I stand my ground. “Well, I’m here now, and I’m not backing down. I’m Tristan Wolfe—not my father.”
Hunter moves closer, his hands clenching and unclenching. “Too late. You’re a carbon copy of the guy. You’re a Wolfe.”
Grimacing, I shake my head. “I don’t need your approval.” Turning, I face Willow. “I fully believe in your abilities to care for yourself and Lana. It’s not that. I want to be with you, and I want to be a father to Lana.”
Hunter steps in front of me, blocking my access to Willow. “No. You should go.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair before lifting my chin higher to refocus on Willow.
She looks torn as she presses a fist to her lips.
Time slows as I gaze at her pained eyes. My lungs constrict, making it hard to breathe, but I try once more. “Is this what you want?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Did you hear me?” Hunter’s hand taps his holstered gun, the threat clear. “Your rent is up. Leave town, Tristan. I won’t let you hurt them again.”
Willow’s body posture collapses as she turns away. When she faces me again, her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
Throwing my hands up, I turn and stalk out the exit. The door’s closing thud reverberates through me, like a sound marking the end.
Back at the rental unit, my mind churns as I stuff my belongings into my bag. The pain of leaving them behind feels as if a knife is twisting in my torso—sharp and unrelenting. Each passing minute feels like it pushes me further from the possibility of redeeming myself.
Images of the past few days flash through my mind—of seeing love again, and meeting a daughter I never knew I had. But it’s all gone now.
The past crushes me, but the fear of history repeating itself makes things even worse. While I finish packing, my brain replays Hunter’s words, his threats, and the look of hurt in Willow’s eyes dozens of times until I can no longer bear it.
I load the last of my things into the car and take a final look at Hunter and Willow’s house. As the sun sets, I breathe in the cold evening scent of pine and earth before slipping into my Lambo and turning the key to start the ignition.
I’m unwanted here. I’m going home.