Page 35 of Absinthe Dreams
"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, Ihead 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."
Well, shit. Getting anything past my old man is impossible. He knows me too damn well. It's almost spooky. Growing up, as soon as my brothers and I even thought about doing some dumb shit, he popped up like a fucking Ninja to shut it down.
I think the only secrets he has from my mom are the ones he carries for us—all the shit we did, or tried to do, that would turn her gray if she knew.
