by Jen Talty
“Because money rubs her the wrong way.”
“It rubs you the wrong way.” His father slapped his back. “Except for that damn car of yours. How’d you explain that one?”
“That I did lie about, saying the bank owned it. But considering where I live, I suppose she believed me.” This conversation wasn’t going quite as Tristan had planned. It shouldn't be this difficult to have a deep conversation with his father. They did it all the time, but not about love and never about strong connections.
“Don’t tell your mother you lied.”
“Not planning on it, but she could get it out of Brooke.”
“That’s true.” His father sipped his beer. “You haven’t known Brooke that long, and no offense, but you have always had shitty taste in women.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve gone out with some really nice women, Brooke being the nicest one of all.”
“I’m not talking about Brooke.” His father set the beer down on the side of the grill, looping his arm over Tristan’s shoulder. “She’s not like any woman you’ve ever dated that we’ve met. The others all needed constant reassurance and attention. Brooke seems confident and smart. A woman who knows what she wants and how to get it.”
“She’s one of a kind.”
“I can tell you really like her.” His father squeezed his shoulder, before stepping away. “Give her a little time to absorb this new information.”
Boy, was his father in for the shock of his life. “You know how mom is always saying I’m some sort of empath or whatever?”
“Her way of saying you’ve got a big heart, always thinking about other people. I remember when you were little and we were skiing. Someone dropped their glove from the chairlift and you had to hike up the hill to give it to them.”
Tristan smiled at the memory. “I’m glad I never went to law school. I love being a Trooper, and helping people is what I’m good at.”
His father nodded, his face turning serous. “What are you getting at, son?”
“Brooke, she’s in my head.”
“What do you mean?” His father reached out, steadying himself against the house, staring at him with wide eyes.
“She’s also in here.” Tristan tapped his chest. “So much so that it feels like that part of me that died with Tamara never really died, just needed to be awakened.”
His father stared at him for a long moment, a single tear rolling down his check. “That’s some heavy shit, son.”
“Dad, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Brooke.”
“Jesus, you’re in love with her.”
***
The last thing Brooke wanted to do was sit on the front porch with Tristan’s mother, but since she chose not to leave when she had the chance, no point in being rude.
“Your grandfather was a class act,” Helen said as she glided across the concrete patio to sit on the love seat.
“He was the best.” Brooke smiled as sweetly as she could.
“Tristan was quite fond of him. He once told us that Rusty wanted to fix him up with his granddaughter.”
Brooke let out a soft chuckle. “I think my grandfather had a man crush on Tristan, more so than he wanted us to meet.”
“But now you’ve met.” Helen turned sideways, tucking one foot under her butt. Her pink toes matched the color on her fingertips. Her short bob perfectly styled. She wore little make-up and her skin appeared to be flawless. It was difficult to guess her age, but Brooke figured it was a few years older than she looked. “I will apologize for being so forward, but what did my son do to upset you so much?”
How the hell did she answer that when being truthful about it would make her look like one big ass bitch.
“It’s nothing, really.”
Helen arched her brow, exactly like Tristan did.
Brooke cracked a smile. “He does that all the time.”
“We all do.” Helen sipped her wine, before setting the glass on the ground. “My son doesn’t often think before he speaks. I’m afraid that’s partially my fault because I was one of those parents who couldn’t control my laughter at some of the more inappropriate things that came out of my children’s mouths.”
“He’s quite funny, in a weird way,” Brooke admitted, wondering why she felt a kindred spirit in Helen. “His blunders make me laugh, though he doesn’t do it as often as he thinks he does.”
Helen arched both brows. “When he was about three, I had him and his twin sister in a grocery cart, trying to get in a little shopping. He saw an overweight woman with an open bag of cookies and she was munching on them. He stood up and said, ‘Mom, that’s why she can’t lose weight’ I damn near died of embarrassment right there.”
“Out of the mouths of babes.”
“His twin did manage to get him to shut his trap most of the time, but anyone who dared to fish for a complement from Tristan, better be prepared for the truth and not what you want to hear.”
That statement hit the nail on the head.
“You’re smiling,” Helen said.
“Does Tristan date a lot of insecure women?”
“I don’t get to meet many of the girls he’s dated, but yes. Drives his father nuts.” Helen leaned in. “Did he tell you about Tamara?” There was an unmistakable tremor to her voice.
“He did. I’m sorry. There are no words.”
Helen closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened them, they were moist. “Those two were inseparable. Neither Albert or I understood their bond. We appreciated it, but twins are unique. They were each other’s world and they did almost everything together. It worried me because I thought it unhealthy for them not to have many friends outside of each other. She never had a best girlfriend, and he didn’t have many guy friends. As they became teenagers, I wonder what would happen if they didn’t go to the same college. When she died, Tristan seemed gone to us too. There was no reaching him. People always say that losing a child is the worst pain in the world, and it is, but losing a twin has to be equally as devastating, and it took Tristan a long time to get to a point where he could live his life without her.”
“I’ve had a lot of loss in my life with my parents and grandparents, but I still can’t imagine how you and Tristan feel.”
Helen placed her soft hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “That’s just it, I think you can. I think you feel it.”
Boy, was his family into this whole sensing thing.
But she couldn’t deny it either. “I can empathize.”
“You care about my son. I can tell.”
Another thing she couldn’t deny. She nodded. “But it’s complicated.”
“It’s only as complicated as you make it.” Helen smiled. “You still haven’t told me what he said or did that had you so angry.”
“I wasn’t that angry.”
Helen arched a brow and Brook laughed.
“I like persistence.” Brooke felt herself melting into this woman’s kind heart. There wasn’t a single thing she didn’t like about her, even though she tried to dislike her outwardly perfection. “He didn’t tell me he was the son of the Albert Reid, Founder and CEO of Highland Pharmaceuticals.” She shook her head. “I did a paper on Highland for one of my master business classes. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together.”
Helen waved her hand in the air. “I tried to teach my children not to flaunt what we had. That’s just rude, but I didn’t want them to be embarrassed by it. Sometimes I think Tristan resents it.”
“I don’t think it’s that at all.” Talk about rude. Brooke had known Tristan for a week and here she was telling his mother about the man’s inner psyche about his childhood. “I believe it's more about blending in and a way to keep himself cut off enough, that he doesn’t have to really let anyone in too deep, even though he says he wants to.”
“Wow,” Helen said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “That’s quite insightful.”
“I don’t know if I’m right, but from what I know ab
out him, I suspect being a twin made him feel special somehow, having her gone, he’s trying to be normal, living without that bond, not forming any new ones.”
“Where have you been all his life?” Helen smiled. “That makes perfect sense. Are you sure you’re not a psychiatrist?”
“I did minor in psychology. It often comes in handy working in sales and management.”
“I bet.” Helen picked up her glass, refilling it and Brooke’s. “But there is one problem with being that knowledgeable about the inner workings of other people.”
“And what’s that?” Brooke asked, knowing the answer. Her mind worked on the rebuttal, because she didn’t want to believe it.
“You don’t truly understand yourself because you’re too busy immersing yourself into other people. For Tristan, it’s taking on the emotional parts of people, especially in a large crowd and he pulls away because it can be overwhelming. I’m much the same way. For you though, it’s different.”
“What do you mean?” Brooke found herself sitting on the edge of her seat, as if she were listening to the most enthralling tale, waiting for the punch line that would either send her off in a fit of laughter, or touch her so deeply she could shed a tear.
“Everyone wants to believe they’re empathic, and most people are. However, not everyone can sense other people’s emotions. I accepted that early on about myself and embraced it. Tristan had his twin, which is an even stronger connection. I suspect you’ve had a deep connection with someone, but you seem to think being able to feel others versus understanding them, as a weakness. You’ve spent a lifetime denying your true self. I suspect that has been catching up to.”
Brooke blinked. She’d spent so much time with Tristan over the last week, that she can’t imagine when he would have had the time to speak with his mother in great detail about her and her situation. Nor did she think he would ever give up that much about her, or anyone. He just wasn’t that kind of man.
Helen took Brooke’s hand between her palms, holding them firmly. “I’m going to way over step my bounds.”
Brooke wanted to tell her she already had, only she enjoyed Helen being in her space. It was like being around her grandmother again.
“I was shocked when Tristan told us, in front of you, that you were mad. Normally, he’d let you leave, shrug his shoulders, and that would be the end of that. But he wanted you to stay, he would have even swallowed his pride and begged.”
Brooke opened her mouth, but Helen shook her head.
“And then there is the fact you stayed. You knew he wasn’t manipulating you because I believe he knows that no matter how much you care for him, you’ll always stand on your own two feet. Independence is intoxicating when you mix it with a desire to share everything with someone.”
“That sounds crazy,” Brooke said softly.
“Love always is, honey.”
Chapter 11
When Tristan returned to the porch to inform his mother and Brooke that dinner was ready, he’d been truly terrified about what might have been said. It wouldn’t be the first time his mother tried to meddle in his life.
Actually, meddle wasn't the right word, because she’d never told him what to do or how to do it, but she did have a way of saying things that were probably better off left unsaid, often making others uncomfortable.
Brook looked anything but uneasy. She looked down right engaged with his mother.
He stood next to Brooke in the kitchen, taking the dishes she’d washed, drying them before putting them away, while his parents enjoyed the sunset on the dock.
“Sorry I put you in a tough spot when my parents showed up. I appreciate you staying.”
She handed him the last dish to be dried. “With everything that has gone on between us, I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me you were loaded. I mean, can you blame me for being upset?”
“It’s not something I go around letting people know the moment I meet them and by the time I deemed it appropriate, you were going to be pissed no matter how you found out.” He dried the dish vigorously, before tossing it haphazardly in the pot drawer. “You can be mad at me all you want, but I don’t like being treated differently because I come from a privileged background and I sure as hell don’t like to toss it around like it puts me above anyone else. My parents are good people and could care less what anyone else has or doesn’t have, so please don’t go judging them until after you get to know them better.” He swallowed. “And if I’d told you my family was rich, you’d judge me to be just like Wendell Ramsworth, and trust me, I’m nothing like that asshole.”
“Want to tell me how you really feel?” She brushed her arm against his, taking his hand.
He laced his fingers through hers, a sense of relief eased off his shoulders. “I’ve wanted to get that off my chest all evening.”
“I do know you’re not like them, but not telling me feels like you’ve kept something from me and makes me wonder about last night and—”
He pressed his finger against her lips. “I’m not keeping anything from you and if you asked me who my father was, I wouldn’t have lied. As far as last night goes? It was by far the most powerful, amazing sexual experience I’ve ever had.”
She laughed. “Mind-blowing worked better.”
He growled. “You make me nuts.”
“Good. Someone has to keep you on your toes.”
He circled his arms around her, feeling her heart pressed against his, beating in unison. “I should tell you that my father was serious about not giving you a recommendation for hire. Being my girlfriend is kind of a strike against you.:
“Who says I’m your girlfriend?”
“I do,” he said. “Anyway, my father never hires anyone as a favor to anyone else. Hell, he even made my brother go through blind interviews. He didn’t get the first three positions he applied for and he’s making less than I am as a Trooper right now.”
“I was a little pissed about that too, but after talking with your dad more, I know I’ll be hired only if I’m a good fit.”
“I haven’t told him that you were fired or the criminal charges.”
“I did.”
He arched a brow and she laughed.
“That must be the Reid go to expression.”
He nodded, annoyed she redirected the conversation. “And?”
“He suggested I wait until the criminal charges have officially been dropped before applying and to make sure I’ve got top notch referrals to make up for not being able to use my past employer. Only thing is, I’m not sure I can wait that long to get a job.”
“You might have to.”
She leaned against him, kissing his cheek. “Would you ever go to work for your father?”
“Hell no. The only thing I would consider other than what I’m doing now would be another form of law enforcement job.”
“I like a man who knows who he is.”
“You more than like me.” He tipped her chin, then leaned closer. “And I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered.
“Turn on the evening news,” his father said as he barreled through the front door, his mother running right behind him.
“What? Why?” Tristan searched for his phone in the kitchen, but then realized he’d left it in the bedroom. Normally, when anything big broke, his phone would blow up before it hit the news.
“You’re on the news,” his mother said.
“No way.” Tristan hated being interviewed for anything and avoided making statements to the press whenever possible. He tugged at Brooke’s hand, pulling her into the family room, and stood behind the sofa where his parents had perched themselves as his father flipped through the channels.
“Do you have that thing where if you hit record, you can go back and watch the entire show?” his father asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Give me that.” Tristan took the controller. “Who told you I was on the news?”
“One of your brothers,” his mother said, biting her fingern
ail.
He hit the record button, then rewound, seeing flashes of his picture from the Academy next to a picture of his father, followed by Brooke’s mug shot and ending with a picture of Wendell giving a press conference last year. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He hit play before tossing the remote across the room.
Brooke squeezed his shoulder, only calming him a little bit. He didn’t care that he’d been outed as one of the heirs to the self-made billionaire, except that it could potentially harm his father and family…because of his association with Brooke.
And that pissed him off even more because in a matter of a month, there’d be no criminal charges and her record would be expunged.
“Local State Trooper, Tristan Reid and the son of Albert Reid, the CEO of Highlands Pharmaceutical,” the newscaster said, “has been named in a law suit filed by Wendell Knoll Ramsworth the III for defamation of character, sources close to the family say. The same sources also indicate that Sergeant Reid has been interfering in an investigation into property allegedly stolen years ago by Brooke Fowler’s late grandmother, Ashley Fowler, while under the employment of the Ramsworth’s. Brooke has a known history of violence, recently being arrested for assault. The Ramsworth’s declined an interview and we have yet to hear from either Sergeant Reid or Brooke Fowler.”
“Mother fucking asshole,” Tristan said, not caring his mother gave him a disapproving glare. “I just got served this evening.”
“You got what?” Brooke yelled, grabbing his arm and squeezing way too hard. Her eyes turned fire red.
“It happened while you were talking to Doug, then my parents showed up. I was going to show you the papers when we went to bed tonight. Will you please let go of my arm?” He didn’t want to shrug it off, but he needed his phone and while he understood she was upset, it wasn’t really because he hadn’t had the chance to tell her yet.
She lifted her hand into the air, then pointed to the television. “You didn’t think something like that would make the local news?”
“Nothing I can do to prevent it.” Tristan stepped around her. “I need to find out if my boss, or internal has tried to contact me. When it comes to accusations against police officers, the higher ups tend to give a statement, even if it’s to say they have no comment.”