What is that look?
“Is something wrong, Fletch?”
He twists his hands in front of him, as if nervous. “Where did Tristan say he was tonight?” he asks quietly.
My stomach drops. “Something came up.” My eyes search his. “Do you know where he is tonight?”
He nods, but he stays silent.
“You can tell me, baby. Nothing bad is going to happen. Tristan and I are adults.”
He tentatively sits down beside me at the counter. “His mother came to see him.”
I frown.
“I shouldn’t have, but I listened at the door.”
“Why?”
“Because last time she was there, I heard her warning Tristan that he wouldn’t have his own children if he stayed with you.”
My heart drops. “What did Tristan say to that?”
“He said he knew, but he wanted you more.”
I get a lump in my throat, overwhelmed that he would make that sacrifice to be with me. “What did she say today?”
“She said that Tristan only wants things that he can fix.”
I frown.
“She said that it’s part of his personality, that he’s drawn to people who need him.”
He is—I already know that.
He drops his head and frowns, as if not wanting to elaborate.
“Go on, baby.” I smile. “It’s okay.”
“She said that she thinks Tristan is still in love with his ex-girlfriend and that he only left her because she didn’t need to be fixed.”
My heart drops. I know which ex-girlfriend she’s talking about. He’s talked about her often.
“She thinks that Tristan is only with you because we are all so damaged, and he wants to help us.”
Ouch . . .
My eyes fill with tears, and I blink to try to get rid of them before Fletcher sees.
We stare at each other for a moment.
“Where is he?” I whisper.
“He went to see Mary. He went to see if he still loves her.”
I sit in the dark on the front porch in the seat swing and rock gently back and forth.
It’s 12:40 a.m. I can’t sleep. How could I?