“What’d they fight about?”
“Who the hell knows? I didn’t ask. I’m only telling you this, so you’ll know what’ll happen if you aren’t careful.”
He said it like a warning. He’s probably trying to scare me back to New York. It’s clear he doesn’t want me here.
“You have a car?” I ask.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I need a ride to the airport,” I say, heading back to the house.
“Why?” He follows me through the door to the living room.
“I want to go back to New York.”
“You’d seriously choose foster care over this?”
“It’s not what I want, but it’s only for a year. I can handle it for a year.” I head to the front door, then notice he’s no longer behind me. “Trystan? You coming?”
“Can’t,” I hear him say from the other room.
I walk back to the living room and see him sitting on the white couch that faces a long, narrow fireplace set into the wall.
“You just said you could.” I face him, my hands on my hips.
“I said I have a car. I didn’t say I’d take you to the airport.” He puts his feet up on the glass coffee table and rests his hands behind his head.
“I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”
“I don’t give a shit if you stay. This house is so big I won’t even notice you’re here.”
“You noticed me out back just now.”
“I was sitting by the pool. Thought I was alone and then you came walking out.”
“There’s a pool?”
“You didn’t see it?”
“No. Harley said you had one, but I didn’t see it out there.”
“Harley.” He laughs. “That guy’s still alive?”
“He’s notthatold. He was nice. I liked him.”
“He hates us. Brayden and me. Thinks we’re shitheads.”
“Sounds about right.” I half-smile.
He jumps up from the couch and walks off. “You want the tour or what?”
“Um, okay.” I hurry to catch up to him as he goes back out to the patio.
Walking fast, he goes past a sitting area with a fire pit down to a lower level where I see a long, narrow pool surrounded by dark wood lounge chairs with white cushions.
He stops just next to the pool.
“Towels are in the bin.” He points to a dark wood bin that matches the lounge chairs. It’s filled with white towels.
