“What about your sister? Why weren’t you with her?”
“Long story short, I wasn’t planned, my father left, and my mother couldn’t handle me alone, so she gave me up.”
“You weren’t ever adopted?” Tristan asked, surprisingly gentle. “How many foster homes were you in?”
After five, he’d stopped counting. He pasted on a smile. “A bunch. Guess I was a handful. I kept hearing that I was too much trouble—He’s got ants in his pants. The kid can’t sit still. It’s too much to handle.Maybe I was hyperactive, who knows. They told the social worker they couldn’t deal with me, and they were right. But I had my reasons that no one ever tried to figure out. All except my last family.”
He’d never unburdened himself like this, not even to Charlotte, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. Maybe it was because Tristan was a stranger, despite their unconventional living arrangement. And he didn’t seem the judgmental type.
“How long were you with them?”
“From fifteen to eighteen. I heard they left New York, and I’m not good at keeping in touch, but they were okay. They made sure I finished high school and tried to get me to go to college, but I figured, what for? I’m not good at much besides singing, and I didn’t need to sit in a classroom for that. Or spend money I didn’t have.” How had this conversation shifted to him? He sat, and Tristan pulled up a barstool as well. “What about you? Your parents still live upstate?”
Tristan’s eyes went blank, and tension lines appeared around his mouth. “I wouldn’t know.”
“I’m sorry. You don’t speak?”
“No.”
When it was obvious nothing further was forthcoming, Sean decided to prod him. “Were they mad you left?”
“Look, I don’t really want to talk about it.” His cheeks flushed. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, I know. By definition, that’s what the past is. I know there’s stuff you don’t want to talk about because once you start you might never stop. And I get it. Trust me.” He held Tristan’s gaze. “But…” Growing frustrated, Sean forgot about his aching face. “I just can’t sit here with you, day after day, night after night, and stare into space. We’re in a weird place of not friends yet, but not strangers either.” Did his words have any effect on Tristan? Was he even listening?
“I don’t like talking about shit. I never have.”
For the first time since they’d met, Tristan sounded hesitant. A far cry from the abrupt man he’d met the first night. But Sean had seen glimpses of a different, fun Tristan when they ate breakfast and Sean would tease him about his green juice and healthy eating. So he said, “Doesn’t seem to be working out that great for you. Maybe it’s time you tried.”
Chapter Six
He didn’t like this feeling. Not one damn bit. He’d never even spoken to Terry about his lousy childhood, preferring to keep their conversations focused on work or Terry’s family life. When he’d first joined them for the holidays after Terry married Monique, she’d tried to cozy up to him and ask about his family, and he’d shut it down real quick with the same answer he’d given Sean. After several unsuccessful attempts, Monique gave up, but Tristan knew it was always waiting there to spring on him like a damn Jack-in-the-box.
Now there sat Sean across from him with hope in those big hazel eyes and a slightly swollen cheek, and Tristan’s resistance crumbled. Hearing his story was hard enough, but even more heartbreaking were the things he didn’t say. What wasn’t spoken out loud was as important as whatever Sean chose to tell him. Poor guy had been kicked around so much in his life, and Tristan sure as hell understood.
“It’s nothing so out of the ordinary. My father was never in the picture, and when I was eleven, my mother ran away with a guy she’d known a month. I was left with my grandmother, who was confined to a wheelchair.” He forced a smile. “I never said anything because even though I was miserable, I couldn’t leave. The alternative was—”
“Foster care, which could’ve turned out much worse,” Sean interjected, and Tristan’s hands curled into fists in his lap because he fucking knew Sean spoke from experience. Imagining him being hurt made Tristan want to rip someone’s head off.
“Yeah. And when my grandmother died my senior year, I bolted right after graduation. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there, as fast as I could.”
There was so much he’d left out, but this abbreviated version was more than he’d ever opened up to anyone, and he had no idea why now. Maybe because Sean knew exactly what he was telling him without him needing to say the words.
“I don’t blame you. And you always knew you wanted to be a cop?”
He had. He loved the structure and the rules since he grew up without any of it. “Yeah. The force gave me the family I never had. People who stood behind me no matter what and always had my back.”
“Even if you don’t talk to any of them,” Sean said with a mischievous grin.
“Wiseass.” He cradled the empty glass in his hand. “The truth is…when I lost my partner, I lost everything. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I was useless. I blamed myself for Terry dying…wished I were the one who’d been killed.” He dropped his head. “I should’ve been.”
The next thing he knew, Sean’s hands were on his shoulders. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Life is too precious to wish it away.” His face, fierce and glorious in anger, stunned Tristan, and also turned him on. For only a moment, he allowed himself to accept the beautiful touch of another human being before twisting away. He’d never wanted to kiss another man more, but knew it would end up causing even more problems.
“I’m fine. It just gets to me every once in a while.” Restless and edgy, he pushed away from Sean, whose devastated gaze made him feel even worse because he knew he was the cause of Sean’s distress. “How’s your face? It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would.”
“It’s fine.” Tight-lipped, Sean brushed past him. “Matter of fact, I’m gonna take a shower and go out.”
The bathroom door slammed, and Tristan heard the water start. This was why he kept his mouth shut. He shouldn’t feel so guilty that he’d almost cringed when Sean touched him. He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for a friend, but he had no one to blame but himself for vomiting his guts out and giving Sean the wrong idea.
