The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

“It’s Harry’s pick,” Tristan replies.

“Umm . . .” Harry looks over to me, and I know he wants to pick something horrible but now will feel bad if I don’t get my favorite meal. “Fine.” He sighs. “Carbonara it is.”

“Okay,” Tristan says as he looks among us. “Pasta it is.” His eyes come to me, and I know he’s internally navigating how to say goodbye with all our spectators.

“Tricky.” He messes up Patrick’s hair. “Fletch and Wiz. See you tomorrow.”

They all stand and wait for him to drive off.

Go inside, will you?

He reaches up and tenderly touches my face. “Anderson.”

My heart nearly explodes in my chest, and I want to throw myself into his arms. “Goodbye, Tris.”

Patrick still has Tristan’s hand in a viselike grip. He looks up the road with a worried face. “I don’t want you to go home,” he stammers.

“What?” Tristan frowns.

“What if there’s a drunk driver?” He looks around in a panic. “It’s very dark, and . . . it’s not safe.”

Drunk driver.

He’s referring to the way his father died.

“Darling, it’s okay. There’s no need to worry,” I say.

Patrick’s eyes are filled with tears. “What if something goes wrong?” he whispers as he looks between us. “Bad things happen to good people, Mom.”

My heart breaks.

Tristan drops to his knee in front of Patrick and looks up at him. “You’re worried about me driving home?” He frowns as he pushes the hair back from Patrick’s forehead.

Patrick fidgets nervously with his fingers and nods, ashamed.

Tristan stares at him for a moment and then stands. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Patrick replies.

“Okay, I won’t go home.”

I frown.

He takes Patrick’s hand and begins to walk back into the house. “Come on. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Tris, it’s okay. You don’t have to,” I reply.

He turns back to me. “Yeah, I do, Claire. I don’t want him to worry about anything, least of all me.” He turns, and with Fletch and Harry trailing behind them, they disappear into the house.

I blink . . . huh?

What just happened?

I stand in the dark and stare at my house.

I don’t want him to worry about anything, least of all me.

Emotion overwhelms me, and I get a lump in my throat. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this.