Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2) (30 page)

Her face crumpled again, and she looked away.
 

She reached across the table, not meeting my eyes as she put her hand over mine.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
What happened to us, it was horrible, and I know I made it worse for you.
 
I wish I could take it back.
 
I’m ashamed at how I treated you.
 
I was shocked by what I saw, and I just reacted.
 
I was so broken, so torn apart by all of the things that happened in that fucking trailer, that I ran and just kept running.
 
That’s my only excuse for the way things went down, but I am sorry for it all.”
 

I was trembling hard, as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and my body had to move in some way just to feel its new freedom.
 

“Thank you,” I whispered.
 
Some things you needed so fundamentally, so desperately, that you couldn’t acknowledge the need until it was met.
 
I acknowledged it now.
 

I needed my sister.
 
And I needed to know that she didn’t hate me.
 

“That man was a monster, and I’m sorry I left you alone to his mercy.
 
Forgive me?”
 

I shook my head, still blinking back tears.
 
“There’s nothing to forgive.
 
I’m so happy you got away.
 
The sooner the better.
 
And I didn’t stay there for much longer after you’d gone.”
 

“Good.
 
I had so many nightmares about that, about leaving you, and you never making it out of there.
 
But even with the nightmares, I was too terrified to go back.
 
This is the first time I’ve been to Vegas since I left.”
 

“The old man is dead.
 
A heart attack.”
 
I thought it important to tell her.
 
The news had brought me so much relief.
 

She took a deep breath, nodding.
 
“That is good.
 
Thank you for telling me.
 
Let’s never talk about him again.”
 

“Whatever you want.
 
Whatever you need.
 
I’m just happy to have found you again.”
 

She smiled at me, but it was sad.
 
“Yes.
 
It’s so good to see your face again.
 
I wish it had happened sooner.
 
What are your plans today?
 
We should go shopping, if you’re free.”
 

I
was
free.
 
I’d made sure I had the afternoon off for just this purpose, hoping things would work out for the best. They had exceeded my expectations though.
 
I had never dreamed of acceptance from her, or forgiveness.
 

We shopped for hours at the Fashion Show Mall.
 
Neither of us bought anything.
 
We mostly window-shopped, and chatted about our lives.
 
It was something we used to do as teenagers.
 
We’d hang around the mall every spare second that we could, just to avoid going home.
 

We talked about our years apart, caught up on as much as we could of what we’d both been doing.
 
I didn’t tell her about my own pregnancy, but I had every intention of telling her soon.

It was nearing dinnertime when I finally had to go.
 
“Tristan should be in town by now.
 
He’s home for the weekend, and he’s supposed to be cooking me dinner at his apartment.”

Her face lit up, and so of course, I invited her to join us.
 

“I have no idea what he’s making, but I can guarantee it will be divine,” I told her as we walked through the parking garage to our cars.
 

“Oh, yes, I know,” she assured me.
 
“I’ve had his cooking before.”
 

That made me feel…disgruntled.
 
What had I been missing lately?
 
How was Tristan cooking for my sister, and I somehow hadn’t known a thing about it?
 

It felt wrong.
 

“How’s that?
 
When have you had Tristan’s cooking?”
 

“I visited the band’s house for dinner one night, and he was cooking.
 
He made lasagna, and it was to die for.”
 

That was better, but only a little.
 
I still couldn’t believe that Tristan had met her and not said a word to me about it.
 
There was no way I wouldn’t be grilling him about it later.
 
Not a chance in hell.
 

I gave her the address in case I lost her, but still had her follow me to the apartment.
 
I sent Tristan one brief text on the way.
 

Danika:
 
We have an extra guest for dinner.
 

I didn’t check for a response, and put my phone away, as I always did, before I started driving.
 

It took us forty-five minutes to get from the strip to Tristan’s Henderson apartment with the traffic, and I was thinking about Dahlia the entire time.
 

Something was going on with her, something troubling, beyond even her accidental pregnancy.
 
Even after hours of opening up to each other, she hadn’t given away even a hint about how it had happened.

Dahlia was right behind me when I parked.
 
She’d trailed me with diligence for the entire drive.
 

She followed me closely up the stairs, and to Tristan’s front door.
 
When I opened it, unexpectedly, she rushed in first.
 

Before I could even close the door behind me, she was in the kitchen, throwing her arms around a surprised Tristan, giving him a huge, exuberant hug.
 

His own arms went slowly and tentatively around her, giving her a ghost of a hug back before he tried to disentangle himself.
 

“Tristan!
 
It’s so wonderful to see you again!” she gushed.
 

I just stared, feeling a little queasy.
 

He set his hands on her shoulders, moving her gently away from him.
 
“Nice to see you, too.
 
Excuse me.”
 

He strode to me, wrapping me in his arms, pulling me very close, and kissing me, long and deep.
 
It was nothing that my kid sister needed to see, but that didn’t stop him from doing it, and it didn’t stop me from reacting.
 
I never had been able to tell the man no.
 

By the time he pulled back, my brain was near to mush, but that still didn’t distract me enough to keep my questions in.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d met my sister?” I asked him, watching his face carefully.
 

His brow furrowed, and he shot Dahlia one unreadable look before he answered.
 
“I barely met her, so it wasn’t such a big deal.
 
Can we talk about it later?”
 

That answer wasn’t what I’d wanted, but I held my tongue, not wanting to have this strange confrontation in front of my sister.
 

Dahlia and I sat on the couch, chatting it up while Tristan cooked dinner.
 

He’d come out of the kitchen every so often, sit down beside me, and kiss my on the forehead, the hand, the cheek.
 
He’d always been like this, but my delicate state had seemed to send his natural inclinations into steroid levels. I
loved
how demonstrative he was, but the fourth time he did it, I noticed the way it made Dahlia look down and, a few times, grimace.
 

Finally, I had to ask.
 
“Are you okay?
 
Is something the matter?”
 

She shook her head, but just kept looking down at her hands.
 
“No, no, I’m just fine.
 
You two are really affectionate, huh?
 
I didn’t realize how serious you were.”
 

“I told you it was serious,” I said carefully.
 
I wondered if I should just tell her how serious, but then I thought of the Jerry connection.
 
I didn’t know how good she was at keeping secrets, and I’d just as soon wait and tell everyone when we were ready to.
 
If Bev didn’t hear it directly from me, she’d be so hurt.
 

“Yeah you did.
 
Did you fall in love with him the second you laid eyes on him?”
 

I pondered that.
 
“Just about.
 
He and I…we always had chemistry.
 
We tried to fight it at first, but here we are.”
 

She nodded.
 
“Yes.
 
Tristan plus any woman would be mad chemistry.”
 

I didn’t appreciate that.
 
And she wasn’t done.
 

“I assumed you’d be head over heels in love with him.
 
Who wouldn’t be?
 
But I didn’t realize that he was mad for you, as well.”
 

“You didn’t?
 
What did you assume?
 
Tell me, what impression has he given you?”
 

“Well, he’s just…I don’t know, out of town so much.
 
He’s as good as living in L.A., away from you.
 
I just thought that if he was serious, he’d try to be
here
more.”
 

“You think either of us have a say in the recording schedule?
 
We don’t, but it’s a temporary problem.
 
I guess he could quit the band, but they should be done in a matter of weeks, I’ve heard.”
   

She shrugged.
 
“If you say so.
 
It just seems to me that you don’t just turn that lifestyle on and off.
 
I don’t know, I guess that when I heard he had a girlfriend, and then saw the kind of life he leads over there, I just assumed it was a casual thing.
 
The things that go on in that house would test any serious relationships.
 
I don’t know how you can
stand
it.”
 

“What kinds of things?
 
Do tell.”
 
I felt my cheeks flushing, my temper rising.
 

She glanced at the kitchen as though she wanted to be sure that Tristan didn’t overhear what she was about to tell me.
 
“Drinking, drugs, constant parties…women,” she said quietly, pointedly.
 

I felt bile rising in my throat, but I held my composure.
 
“Are you telling me that Tristan’s been unfaithful to me?”
 
The drugs concerned me too, and even the drinking, when he took it to extremes, but that last one caught my attention like nothing else could.
 

She shook her head quickly, eyes wide, lips pursed.
 
“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying.
 
He’s not like that.
 
But he’s lonely, I can tell.
 
How long will he be lonely before he caves to temptation over there?
 
Every man has needs.”
 

My jaw clenched.
 
I loved my sister, but I hated that she assumed that she somehow knew Tristan better than I did, that she somehow had an intuition into his needs that I did not.
 

“Thanks for your concern,” I told her, trying hard to keep my tone nice, “but it’s my job to see to Tristan’s
needs
, and if you’ll notice, he’s not complaining.
 
As soon as they get this record done, he’ll be back in town, and everything will be back to normal.
 
We just have a few more weeks left of the long distance relationship.”
 

My mind avoided the fact that we’d been saying this for months now.
   

She didn’t look convinced, and I wondered why she needed to be.
 
How did any of this affect her, and why did she feel the need to make it her business?
 
I was getting more agitated by the second.
 

“And what about when the band goes on tour, to promote the new album?
 
How will things work out then?
 
Would you go with them?”
 

I blinked.
 
I hadn’t heard anything about a tour from Tristan, though I had heard it mentioned.
 
“Go with them?” I repeated blankly.
 
“Well no, I wouldn’t go with them.
 
I have too much going on here.
 
I couldn’t just quit school, quit working, quit everything to go on tour with them.
 
The idea is ludicrous.”
 

“I’d do it,” she said passionately.
 

My hands clenched.
 

She continued, “I’d do whatever it took to keep a guy like Tristan, even if it meant leaving my
whole
life behind.
 
Don’t you think he’s worth it?”
 

It was a much stronger effort this time to keep my tone polite.
 
“I know better than anyone what he’s worth.
 
He means the world to me, but he wouldn’t ask me to do something like that.
 
And besides, he hasn’t said a word to me about the band going on tour.”

She shot a pointed look Tristan’s way.
 
His back was to us as he cooked, oblivious to our conversation, in the kitchen.