The recipe that Tristan had given him after that first night together. His breath hitched in his throat, and not because of the cigarette currently hanging limp from his lips. If they were coming back to this... Was that the end? It felt too significant, too circular for him to ignore. If he’d needed more proof that he couldtrustHenry to do the right thing... his phone had given him that.
The door opened and Tristan whipped around, hoping in every fiber for Henry to come outside. It was irrational, against everything he’d been asking for, but he needed that touch.
A production assistant walked out, muttering over a list. She didn’t even look at Tristan as she strode past.
How could it end this way? Willa had won so easily. Tristan’s chest tightened, fingers tingling with misplaced adrenaline. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. To either of them. But what was the recourse? Tristan’s breath stuttered out, and he hastily snuffed his ignored cigarette before it could fall and burn him. The thing was useless anyway. The nicotine wasn’t stopping the itch behind his eyes or quelling his thrashing heartbeat. He leaned against the wall, but his mind wouldn’t clarify, buzzing nonstop as pieces of himself collapsed.
His hand shook as he desperately wriggled his phone out, dialed up Lucia. Each ring stretched forever, a lifetime, an eternity between him and someone who could hold him steady. One ring, two... finally. “Hello?”
“Lucia.” He could hear the desperation in his own voice. “Henry and I had a fight and he’s going to throw the competition and I—I called him selfish.” Thoughts spewed out of his mouth without coherence, falling forward as they occurred to him. “I don’t know what to do and I don’t want him gone but I don’t want to leave. I don’t have any—”
“Tristan!” Her voice was sharp. “You are spiraling. What is actually happening?”
He tried to respond, but no words came out.
“Tristan, breathe with me. Come on.” She took exaggeratedly loud breaths, in and out. Slowly, Tristan fell into rhythm with her, tapping the crushed half-cigarette to count the seconds.
After about a minute, he managed a “Thank you.” He took a few more breaths to try to collect himself, then gave her a brief rundown. The threat from Willa. The hand touching. He left out how they felt about each other. “And now he... he’s implying he wants to forfeit. For me.”And for you.
“Jesus. You have to tell someone.”
“But what if they kick us out because of it? How is he going to recover? How can I face up to Carlita? What if this comes out and wrecksherbusiness?”
“Tristan. This is your schtick, you know that?” Her voice was soft and full of... God, was that pity? From his little sister? “You can’t control everything in the whole world. You can’t bear all this weight all the time. That’s how you end up like Mom. Miserable, then dead.”
Tristan wanted to argue, but that had been their mother. She’d taken as much as she could for the two of them, and now she was gone. So instead of arguing, he said, “That’s not what this is about.”
“You want everything to be okay for you and for Henry, and for Carlita, and you’re worried about the competition, and the prize money, and, and, and. Stop when I say something wrong.”
“What am I supposed to ignore?” The only way to make this clear to her was to drop the big bombshell. “The money is for debts, and for living expenses, and now repairs to my apartment, and to keep you safe.”
The line went silent for quite a while before she said, “To make sure I don’t go back to Robert.”
Tristan cringed at the hurt and tightness in her voice. “Yeah.”
“Tristan. Take me off your list. I’m not. Going back. To Robert. And what, you think I’m not going to get a job now that fucker doesn’t have me under lock and key? Come on, Tristan.”
“What? You need to recover.”
“Oh, I need to recover? Well, getting back into life and getting a job are part of that.” Her tone was slightly playful. “Look, I’m going to give you one piece of advice, and for the love of God you’re going to listen to what I have to say. Take care of yourself. Not me. Do what’s right for you, and from the way you talk about Henry, that relationship is what’s right. Money is money. You’ll get more. But are you going to be able to live with yourself if you let Henry throw this away without trying to stop him? If you let him walk away? And is your budding relationship going to survive that?”
“Lucia, listen—”
“No, we had an agreement. You’re listening to me. You’re going to do what I say. You’re going to stand up for someone who makes you so happy that the thought of him getting hurt sent you into a panic attack.”
Tristan sighed. “But what does that look like?”
“Whatever it needs to look like.” She’d taken a clipped, almost militaristic tone, now. And in spite of himself, Tristan feltbetterat the prospect of someone else taking charge. Lucia getting a job wasn’t what he wanted, and even if she did, it wouldn’t replace his oven or clear out his credit cards. But just talking to her about this had lifted a twenty-pound weight from his shoulders.
Tristan stuffed his half-used cigarette back into the pack, then sighed. “I’ve been out here a long time. I need to get back in. Unless you have more orders?”
“Take a breath, then forget about protecting me and take care of you and Henry. And uncurl your toes. You always bunch up your toes when you’re really freaking out.”
And now that she mentioned it... yeah, they were all curled up inside his shoes. “Thanks. I love you, Lucia.”
“I love you too. Neuroses and all.”
The line went dead, and Tristan blew out a long breath, before turning around and heading back inside.Take care of me and Henry?What did that look like? What was his plan? He stepped back on set and locked his eyes on Willa, and then on Henry. Her smug, him visibly shattered.
