Page 12 of The Man I Love

Tristan stuffed his phone back into his pocket and forced himself out of the truck. He slammed the door behind him, realizing his emotions were out of control as a sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He braced one forearm against thecab and looked down to the ground, focusing on the cracks of the asphalt as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. After a moment, he reached toward his equipment, grabbed hold of the handle, and hauled it forward. He pulled the large cart from the back of the truck and set it on the ground. He had work to do. Wouldn’t give his father the time of day. Wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of his piqued curiosity.

Another ping interrupted his thoughts. “Damn it!” he yelled, slamming the truck bed closed.

He stared at the middle of the street, resting his mind on nothingness, as his fingers inched toward the holster which housed his cellphone. His mind told him to stop, that whatever his dad wanted didn’t matter. Whatever he said would be meaningless, but it was almost impossible for his mind not to wonder.

Of all the days for his father to reach out, why did it have to be when Tristan was at his lowest—when his business was hanging by a thread and Samantha was halfway across the country?

Tristan tore his clipboard from the cab and carried his equipment to the driveway, but the image of Renee on her wedding day wouldn’t leave his mind.

What kind of idiot missed his own daughter’s wedding? What on earth could have happened that could have been more important?

A thousand scenarios ran through his thoughts, but no reason had ever been good enough. Nothing could excuse the fact that he wasn’t there. That Tristan filled his father’s shoes that day. That Tristan had to be the one to break his sister’s heart by telling her the man she’d looked up to her whole life wasn’t coming to her happiest moment. He remembered holding her as she cried, then watching her head lift with determination. His sister had always been stubborn, and most of the time, headmired her for that. She didn’t give up. She fought to death for things she believed in, but that day broke his heart. That day, she lifted her chin to keep from crying. To say she didn’t care. To say it didn’t matter. But it did.

It fucking mattered to all of them.

He’d never forgive his father.

For the briefest second, he thought about pulling out his phone and asking one question. “Why?”

Why hadn’t he been there?

Why would he do that to Renee?

Why was he such an asshole?

But it didn’t matter. The facts were simple. His father didn’t show up. His father’s mistress had been more important. That’s all Tristan needed to know.

“I can’t leave her,” his father had said on the phone.

“Dad, I’m just asking for a few hours of your time.”

“You don’t understand,” his father yelled.

“Then explain it to me?”

His father was quiet for a long time, so long that Tristan thought he’d finally come to his senses, but then his voice broke through the receiver. “I can’t.”

Tristan had disconnected the call, his heart already breaking with what he knew came next. He would have to tell Renee.

Tristan paused at the entrance of his client’s backyard, his fingers working at the latch on autopilot. Leaves littered the large pool inside, but he barely noticed them.

“I can’t.”

He replayed the last words his father had ever said to him.“I can’t.”

Or he wouldn’t?

Dropping to a squat by the side of the pool, Tristan exhaled and began unloading his equipment. For the last eight weeks, a heaviness unlike anything he’d ever known had fallen on hisshoulders, and he knew he was close to his tipping point. He felt it in the air. The moment he woke up and saw Samantha’s text, everything had felt different.

Eight weeks ago, Douglas had come into his office and said he was leaving Montgomery Pool Service. Twelve hours later, the cancellation notices began pouring in by the dozens. It didn’t take long for Tristan to find the reason.

Douglas had been Tristan’s friend, his protégé, a young kid who was misunderstood by his father and Tristan had wanted to help. He'd taken him under his wing, taught him everything he knew, then Douglas turned it against him. He’d taken Tristan’s contacts, his suppliers, something Tristan used his own sweat and tears to build, then started his own company. He didn’t even blame his clients for making the switch. Douglas had offered impossible rates. A luxury offered because he used his rich parents' money to fund it.

At times, Tristan was glad Samantha wasn’t here to witness this. To see his entire world unravel.

In others, he wished she were close … to help him hold onto the pieces that never seemed to stop spinning.

Eight months.He had eight months to fix things. Eight months until he could either pretend like nothing had happened while she was gone, or reimagine the life he’d always planned for himself …

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