Page 28 of The Torment of Two

“What then?”

“I want you to try to identify Golden, your dads, or anyone else close to you. You can even try to identify me. Sound easy enough?”

“When?”

“Friday. I’ll bring coffee again. Want to try something new?”

“Nope. Get me the butterscotch truth serum.”

He cackles with laughter. “I paid extra for a shot of that. Glad to see it worked.”

“For the record,” I grumble, “I don’t like this.”

“No one ever likes working on themselves,” Tate reveals. “It’s hard and uncomfortable. We learn things about ourselves that might be shameful to us or silly. However, when you put the work in, you grow.”

“Is that a nice way of saying, ‘Grow up, Two,’?”

“Again with the dramatics.” He winks at me. “It means, let me help you flourish. You’re closed up tight, wrapped up around yourself. We’re going to peel back your layers so we can see all the intricate and beautiful parts that make you you.”

“You worm your way in with people, don’t you? Is that what happened with your fiancé?”

He nods, eyes twinkling. “And once I’ve chomped my way through, there’s no getting me out.”

His teasing words are comforting. Not many people, besides my dads and Dax, have stuck around for the long haul, continuing to put up with my eccentric shit.

“What if I stopped paying you?” I ask, testing him. “What then?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nice try. I’d help you for free. Now scoot along. I’m about to meet with my bestie at the craft store so we can pick out wedding favors. You’re totally invited to the wedding since we’re friends now.”

We’re friends now.

Just when I thought I could barely handle the only friend I have, I’m pleased at the prospect of having another.

Gemma

He’s been a dick to me both times I’ve spoken to him and then he randomly sends me some stupid personality test to take like we’re besties?

Me: Ummm. I’m not doing this.

Tristan: It’s the least you can do to repay me for my pain and suffering.

Me: Are you always so dramatic?

Tristan: According to this test, yes.

That piques my interest. If the test says he’s dramatic, then maybe I need to see what I am for having to put up with him.

Me: Fine. I’m thinking about going to Hemingford Hall. Did you want to go with me?

Tristan: No. You won’t get in. They allow private tours if you email them, but you won’t get in on such short notice.

I refrain from sending him the eye roll emoji. He thinks he knows everything and it’s super annoying. I’m a Park. Surely they’ll let me have a look. It’ll be nice to get started on the project rather than relying on Two for all my information.

Why does everyone get to call him Two, but I have to refer to him by his real name? God, he’s so freaking weird. Feeling rebellious, I change his name on my contacts just because I can. Asshole.

Before I take a trip to Hemingford Hall, I pop over to check my socials. Rocks of apprehension sit heavily in my stomach as I brace myself for anything weird.

Another message.

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