“You had her last night,” she protests weakly, pushing herself up and moving to the sink. I can tell the protest is halfhearted and more for form than anything else.
“Go back to bed.” I lean over, pressing my lips against the side of her head. “I’ve got Stella this morning. I told her I’d try to make Olaf pancakes this morning. I’m going to fail epically. It will be great fun.”
“I’m sorry I’m going to miss it.” Tristan squirts toothpaste on her toothbrush, one eye squeezed closed, and her lips pursed while she concentrates on the task. Her shoulders relax once the blue paste ends up on the bristles, and not all over the vanity. I barely choke back another laugh at the look of triumph that filters across her face. Her head lifts, and she glares at me in the mirror. “Shut up.”
My hands raise in surrender. “I’m not laughing, baby.”
“Right.” She lifts the toothbrush just shy of putting it in her mouth. “Bash?” she asks again, worry evident in her tone.
“It’s no big deal, Tristan.”
She nods her head slowly. “Okay. It’s just…Dylan’s not in a good place. Like seriously not in a good place. She’s always quiet about what’s going on in her life, but she’s always had this air of self-assuredness about her, and last night was the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen her.”
Unable to keep my hands off her, I reach over and brush her hair back behind her shoulder. “I’ll talk to him, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”
“Okay.” She pops her toothbrush into her mouth and then pulls it right back out. “You swear you’re good with Stella?”
“I swear. Go back to bed. I’ll wake you up in plenty of time to get ready.”
“Thanks.” She shoves the toothbrush back in her mouth.
I run my hand down her arm one more time before heading out of the bathroom. I grab my jeans off the chair in the corner of the bedroom and slide them back on before heading out of the bedroom. I head straight to Stella’s room. It’s open just a crack so it doesn’t make any noise when I push it the rest of the way open. The little girl is still sound asleep with one foot hanging off the small twin-size bed, and her purple elephant tucked up under her stomach. Huck is tucked right up against her, and lifts his head when I open the door. I give him the hand signal for come, and listen to his loud groan that he has to get up.
He hesitates, and I give the signal again before turning out of the room. I stop at the closed guest room door. It’s quiet on the other side, but no matter how worried Tristan might be about Dylan, and no matter the faith I have in my brother that he wouldn’t take advantage of the blackout-drunk girl, I’m sure as hell not comfortable opening the door to prove the theory.
Huck brushes against my leg on his way by, and I follow along behind him so I can let him out and get some coffee going. We’re supposed to be at the farm by noon at the latest, but last night Mom had strongly hinted that we were free to show up in time for her to watch the parade with us. Or in all reality, for her to watch the parade with Stella, because she could give a fuck if the rest of us show up early or not.
I’m half expecting her to show up in a little while to steal Stella home with her.
It doesn’t take me long to get the coffee going. I listen to the beautiful sound of it dripping into the cup while I flip through the headlines on my phone. I’d spent quite a bit of time last night looking up videos online on how to make the perfect snowman-shaped pancake. I’m not sure how Stella had conned me into making her Olaf pancakes, but she was quickly learning that she could give me that little smile that reminded me of her mother, and I would do just about anything for her.
In the last few days I have been focused on trying to find the balance in our relationship that Tristan needs. The balance that still has us moving forward as a couple, but not moving at “mach five.” I hadn’t thought it would be this difficult to find that balance. All I want to do is move forward, but if Tristan knew that I’m thinking about legally making both her and Stella mine, and maybe giving Stella a little brother or sister to play with, she’d lose her shit. So I bite my tongue and hold back all the things I really want to say. I need her to be ready for what I have to give, and she’s asked me to give her the time to get ready. I know she wants to be ready, and for now that has to be enough.
Four months ago I never would have thought I’d be in this position. Finding the two of them wasn’t part of the plan, but now that I have them, letting them go, even taking these small steps backward, is a hard pill to swallow. Especially since all this bullshit is going on with whoever is after Tristan. There has been no headway made on that front, and each day that passes that we had no new leads, pisses me right the fuck off. The thought that there’s someone out there that’s targeting my girl, and I can’t figure out who it is, is nearly more than I can take. Added to the fact that she won’t let me move in with her, to give her the protection I really want to give her, pisses me right the fuck off too.
I’m all for her proving her independence, but not at the expense of her safety. There has to be another way she can prove herself to herself, because she sure as hell doesn’t have to prove herself to me. She doesn’t give herself nearly enough credit for what she’s already accomplished. The balls it took to pack up a three-year-old you’re raising on your own and move several hundred miles away from everything, and everyone, you know, to start over, isn’t to be overlooked. Never mind the fact that she’s dealt with the loss of Trevor, and finishing nursing school, all while pregnant. I really wish Tristan could see herself through my eyes; then she would know that she is the strongest woman on the planet.
There’s nothing left for her to prove.
I just need her to come to the same conclusion on her own.
“Hi, My Owen.”
I glance over at the sweet little voice, watching Stella shuffle into the room. Her princess pajamas are crooked, her hair a mass of tangles around her sweet, little face, though she did take time to put her tiara on her head, and Phant is tucked under one arm. Her eyes are still soft with sleep, and she yawns as she moves closer, pressing her face against my leg. Warmth spreads through my chest as she tucks herself against me. “Hey, Stella. How’d you sleep?”
“Okay.” She tries to burrow closer so I lean down and pick her up, settling her on my hip where she leans her head into the crook of my shoulders. “Where’s Mama?” Her breath puffs against my skin and that warmth spreads even further.
“She’s still asleep.”
She giggles. “She’s a sleepyhead.”
“She sure is. Are you ready for pancakes?”
“Cancakes!” Her whole little body wiggles against mine. “Olaf cancakes.”
“I’m going to do my best. Let’s get you situated at the table here with a coloring book and some crayons while I make breakfast, okay? Do you want something to drink?”
Stella bobs her head up and down as she settles into her seat at the table. “Milk pwease.”
“Coming right up.” It takes me a few minutes to get her situated at the table with her coloring book and crayons, and her cup with the lid and straw. I learned the hard way last night not to hand her a drink that doesn’t have some sort of lid on it. I wasn’t completely able to get the pink juice stain out of the carpet in the living room, and that wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward to having with Tristan.