Page 20 of Busted Dreams

“Yeah,” she drawled slowly. “Protective. I can tell you Thatcher is protective of me, but he’s never cuddled me the way he does Astrid. All of you act like her boyfriends, and honestly, it’s just weird.”

I shrugged. Beck had gone on a date with her, and Rhys wanted to. I bet Thatcher did too. Trinity just didn’t know how right she was.

Trinity’s phone rang, only getting louder as she pulled it out of her back pocket.

“Speak of the devil himself,” she muttered right before she answered.

It was Thatcher. He was yelling so loud, his every word was as clear as if I was the one holding the phone.

“Can you tell me why one of your druggie friends just showed up on the doorstep?”His seething came through so strongly, he must have been clenching his teeth.

Trinity lost several shades of color and swallowed hard before she answered. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just some girl named Danny asking to grab a package from your room. If I hadn’t opened the door to walk out, she would have tried to walk right on in. Now tell me why she has a key to my apartment?”

Trinity’s brows scrunched up as if she were in pain while she visibly searched for something to say. She’d clearly never been asked to explain herself on anything. And that was on having a parent that didn’t care.

“Um…uh. Danny’s a girl from school. What’s the big deal? She’s my best friend.”

“I don’t think so. One, she was surprised you had a brother. Who did you tell her you live with? Two, I went through this so-called package.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she turned away from me. Still I could hear him.

“And guess what was inside? Coke. Wherethe helldid you get coke?”

After the initial shock, something ugly came over Trinity’s expression. “That is none of your business. We already covered this last night. You’re not my dad. And you never will be.”

“Damn right I’m not him. Because he was a worthless waste of space. Be here in ten minutes or you’ll find your clothes on the sidewalk.”

Click.

Trinity gripped the phone so hard, I swore I heard the screen crack. She turned away and screamed under her breath. “She wasn’t supposed to go by this early,” she grumbled.

When she turned back around, she had moderately collected herself, although her cheeks were flaming and her eyes were misty but defiant.

“You should go talk to him.” I used a soothing voice, as if I were trying to calm a wild animal.

“You heard all that, right?” She barked out a bitter laugh. “I think I’d rather call his bluff. You go on over and have fun going to the game with Astrid.”

Without another word, she trotted off like she hadn’t just been busted in a major way. Then again, to her, maybe this really was nothing. I had no idea, because I didn’t know who she was beyond the shallowest part of her.

A ding from my phone alerted me to a text message. I was almost afraid to look, but after my tattoo session, I was mellow in a way I’d been missing for far too long. Opening my door, I slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the car and heat to combat the crisp fall air before I opened it.

Thatcher: I’m going to have to bail on the game. Can you take Astrid?

Could I? I could, but I wasn’t excited to spend two hours with her in a car by myself.

Just the thought of what questions she could pin me with ate away at the edges of my calm. That girl, she saw through me in a way no one else did, and I wasn’t ready to share any more of myself with her—much less anyone—yet.

But I wasn’t a coward.

At least, not much of one.

Me: Yeah. I’ll text Astrid to see where she is. I’m driving now anyway.

Me: Hey, Thatcher can’t make it today. Where are you, and I’ll come get you.

Thatcher must have messaged her at the same time. The text was immediately marked read, and those three little dots started blinking.

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