Page 23 of Pucking Unhinged
The word slips out of him, gravelly, unplanned. His eyes widen a fraction, like he didn’t mean to let it fall, but it’s too late.
TRISTAN
I’m going to snap any second. This stupid motherfucker named Josh won’t take the hint even as I wave off the green and pink drink he’s pushing at me. He’s told me his name six times in the hour since we’ve been at the Black Crown Resort. He’s tried to make small talk about how we’re related twice as many times. We’re fucking not related, his foster mother is just marrying my father. I’m going to bash his face in with my beer bottle and then slit his throat with the broken glass if he calls Winter ‘sister from another mister’ one more time.
She’s been a good sport about it, smiling a fake smile… and I would know. I know her real smile, and the only thing that’s keeping this guy alive right now is that I’m confident that he’ll never see her genuine smile. I’m already on edge because of some things I pieced together about my father. Elijah Moretti sent Sebastian and me a photo of my father that he got his hands on, and I don’t even need an explanation. My father is dead to me. No matter what I uncover, he’s dead. The photo was of him and someone who looks an awful lot like the man I’ve been trying to hunt down. Gotta love having a friend with mafia connections.
By the looks of the photo, they weren’t hiding out in some secretive location. No, they were right here in this bar wearing fancy designer suits and smoking cigars together. I’m not sure I really care about the why, or even the how, I just care about one thing. Avenging Winter and taking out anyone who had a hand in anything that has ever hurt her.
“Get that shit out of my face,” I practically bark the words, but he’s just grinning like an idiot, accepting a tray loaded with colorful cocktails and spritzers from our server. I guess I died, went to hell and woke up at some sorority mixer instead of the Black Crown Resort’s prestigious bar.
“Geez, hard liquor only for the big bad goalie. I got ya.” Josh laughs under his breath, like we’re already friends. Like he doesn’t see exactly how close I am to putting him through this polished black and white marble bar top. I run my fingers along the cool surface. I’d be willing to bet a lot of money that his skull is softer than this.
Another source of my agitation is that Josh’s perky foster sister, Bianca, practically climbed Winter like a tree as soon as we walked in. Either she’s starved for friends, or her mother told her to keep Winter occupied. I trust no one here except my girl, but it’s probably better she’s on the other side of the bar. I don’t want her in the middle of things when I confront my father, but I wasn’t comfortable having her stay back at Castlebrook without me to protect her. I feel like I’m suffocating on the space between Winter and myself right now. She was stuck to my back like fucking glue on the whole ride up here, and now I’m going through withdrawals.
I know Winter is careful about how affectionate she is toward me when my father is around, and I don’t blame her. He yanks me up for it, like he actually gives a shit. He doesn't. He just doesn’t want the whispers going around of any sort of impropriety because in the eyes of his elite circle, Winter is mysister. She doesn’t like it when he gets on my case, but I don’t give a shit. It’s not wrong what I feel for her. Even the other day in the locker room, calling her ‘baby’ just rolled off my tongue, and it felt like I’d been holding it in for so long.
I take a pull of my beer and quietly watch my father mingling with three men I don’t recognize, leaving his bride to be sitting by herself. I roll my eyes as Bianca squeals at something Winter says quietly. Winter’s eyes meet mine, and I must be making a hell of a face because she giggles softly, and that sound alone is enough to make my cock stir.
“You have a pretty laugh,” Josh with his fucking golden retriever looking ass says like he isn’t about to have my boot shoved down his throat. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, cataloguing his every move. His presence grates on me more than it should because he’s not a real threat. I’m convinced that as small as Winter is, she could bring him to his knees easily. But he’s too comfortable with her, like he thinks he knows anything about her and I don’t fucking like that shit.
Doesn’t matter. None of this matters.
What matters is why I’m here at all.
The last place I want to be is sitting in this bar keeping up these false pretenses. I have no interest in meeting Dad’s fiancee or her annoying children. My father invited us here under the guise of “family,” but I’m not stupid. There’s always an angle with him. Always a motive buried under handshakes on shitty business deals.
Josh slides up and leans on the arm of Winter’s chair like he’s known her his entire life. He pops open his suit jacket, and I’m pushing up from my chair ready to rip it off of him and strangle him with it, but Winter gives me a look telling me she’s fine. She’s constantly worried about me, and she’s playing it cool so I won’t lose my shit.
This asshole is rummaging in the inside pocket until he pulls out a crinkling handful of mini-sized candy bars.
“Want some?” he asks, holding one up like it’s some grand offering. “I always have something sweet for someone sweet.” His grin is wide, almost boyish, then it falters when he glances up and makes eye contact with me. He immediately drops his gaze because he knows I’m about to rip into him. I’ve told him multiple times to get the fuck away from her.
“Get the fuck away from her with that,” I bark, louder this time, my voice cracking through the low hum of the bar. His head jerks up, startled, and he flinches back like a spooked animal. Good. He probably carries around roofie candy bars because that’s the only fucking way a girl is going to let him touch her.
Josh stammers, shoving the candy back into his jacket in a rush. My fists curl against the counter, my body already halfway out of the chair before I force myself back down. My knuckles itch to use his face as my own personal punching bag, but I don’t move.
Because I don’t need to throw a punch. Not yet…and that’s growth. Winter would absolutely tell me that this is a step in the right direction. But I’m pretty sure I’m still going to kill him before we head back home.
“Honey, you need to come over here and speak to your son,” Josh’s mom calls for my dad, her voice all high-pitched and wobbly like she’s scared of me. I think her name is Emily, but I can’t be bothered to care enough to confirm that.
Dad heads out of his conversation way faster than I anticipated, and I wonder then why she’s important to him. Does he need her for something, or does she have something on him? My father tips me over the edge when he kisses the top of this random woman’s head and then her temple before he says loudenough for me to hear, “He’s protective of his sister because of?—”
“Do not call her that.” My voice sounds furious even to my own ears. “I fucking told you…do not ever call Winter my sister.”
My father blinks, taken aback, and in the silence I realize that I cut him off from saying something that would have sent me into more of a rage
“What were you going to say just now? Because of what, Dad?” I press. My smile must be absolutely twisted, humorless.
“Tristan,” Winter says, and I look at her for a moment before my eyes narrow back on my father.
“Are you gonna tell this woman about Mom? About how you didn’t even check to see if she was breathing when you finally dragged yourself up out of the dirt?” I hope he can hear the level of disgust I have for him. He didn’t protect the one person he should have protected with his own life. I wasn’t close to my mother, if I’m honest. I wasn’t close to anyone or anything until Winter came into my life, but that doesn’t change anything I’m saying. She was his wife, and there was absolutely no panic in that man when he got up and saw her with blood pooled around her.
Winter starts to rise, like she’s going to step in, and calm me down. But my father shakes his head at her, dismissing her like she doesn’t matter.
My jaw ticks. Big mistake. “And while you’re at it, don’t ever dismiss Winter for any reason. If she wants to stand on this table and break every glass in the room, that’s none of your concern. She does as she pleases.”
Across from me, Winter stills, her lips parting the faintest bit. She doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe for a second, like my words hit as deeply as I feel them. Then, slowly, her hand drifts across the countertop, her fingertips brushing against mine.
