Page 105 of Bad For Me (Rock Canyon, Idaho 5)

“I’ll just be right over there, okay?” He pointed to a cushioned couch under the large window, and she nodded.

“I’ll be fine.” She could feel her smile shake a little, but A for effort, right?

“You will be.”

She continued on, wiping her clammy hands on her sweater and jeans.

“Hi, I’m meeting someone. Tristan Anderson, party of two?”

“Yes, he’s already seated. Let me take you.”

Callie couldn’t seem to slow her rapid breathing as she trailed behind the hostess, her gaze searching for his familiar face. The hostess stopped next to a booth, blocking the occupant.

“Here you go.”

Callie walked around her and got her first look at Tristan since the day he’d been sentenced. His once-thick blond hair had thinned some, and he was stockier, like he’d been hitting the weights at the gym. Or eating too many burgers. But his eyes and his smile were the same—though they didn’t make her weak with happiness or fear anymore.

Those emotions had been replaced by rage and frustration.

“Callie,” he said, starting to stand.

“Don’t.”

Her simple command was quiet but said with an edge of steel that seemed to surprise him. Did he really think that she was going to hug him? Just act like they were old friends, happy to see each other?

Not fucking likely.

The hostess looked between them, clearly uncomfortable, and finally laid her menu down across from Tristan. “Your server will be right with you.”

“Thank you.”

Callie sat across from him, pressing herself back against the seat and keeping her legs away from the middle. She didn’t bother picking up her menu, since her stomach was roiling so much she doubted she could hold anything down.

Tristan was watching her with eagerness as he picked up his own menu. “I’m so glad you made it. I figured the Cheesecake Factory would be easy to find, and it used to be your favorite restaurant—”

“Not anymore.” She said it sharply. She hated the way he was looking at her, like he was just glad she was there, and it didn’t matter what she said. “A lot of things have changed, haven’t they?”

She hated that he looked so healthy and happy. Her mother was rotting in the ground, and he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Yeah, they have.” He paused, searching her face with a doe-eyed gaze. “You’re still beautiful, though.”

A memory flashed through her mind: Tristan standing behind her in the mirror as they got ready for a party. He’d come up behind her and kissed her bare shoulder. “You are so beautiful.”

Callie closed her eyes, choking back on bile at the next image: him leaning over her, his knife dripping red with blood.

Her blood.

“Please don’t say that. Don’t pretend that this is normal, just two old friends meeting for lunch to catch up.”

“I’m sorry. I thought that when you said you wanted to meet, you were ready to forgive me.” His hand started to creep across the table, like he was reaching for her, and she stared at it warily, as if it was a spider ready to strike.

He stopped moving when he caught her look and sighed. “I have been dreaming of little else for seven years. I guess it was just wishful thinking.”

“You’ve been dreaming of my forgiveness?” She actually laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of it. “Do you know what my dreams are made of, Tris?”

His expression turned bleak, and his face paled. Satisfaction rolled through her; she’d finally managed to wipe that stupid expression from his face.

“I’ve dreamed of blood, pain, and tears. I’ve dreamed of begging for my life and the overwhelming fear when my attacker doesn’t listen. There’ve been no puppy dogs and kittens for me.”

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