“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
“He’d have to go away again, and I like it a lot better when he’s here. When I can see him.”
Oh.
Right.
I’d only known Tristan a short time, so had no experience coping with him being deployed - Kiara and her mother had been the ones managing the care packages and video calls and all that - assuming he’d even been allowed any of those.
They’d definitely had to manage the fear that he might not actually make it back home.
“So you just…take it? Because you’re scared of what might happen if you tell somebody?”
She shrugged. “What else can I really do? They never touch me or anything, and I’ve always been able to get away from them so they can’t follow me all the way home.”
“So you think.”
Her eyes went wide over my correct - but likely terrifying - input. “I didn’t think they were smart enough for something like that.”
“Probably not,” I assured her. “But diligence is important either way. You can’t be too careful. And you should definitely say something to someone. Maybe your mom?”
“You met my mom. She’s more likely to wind up in jail than daddy.”
Yeah, that tracks.
“I get it, Kiara. But… You have to tell someone. In case - God forbid - something happens.”
Her big brown eyes came to me, blinking hard. “I’m telling you.”
I frowned. “No. I’m not… You’re not... I… Your Dad and I aren’t even together,” I blurted. “So... I probably shouldn’t be the person to hold this information for you.”
Kiara raised an eyebrow at me. “Really? I mean I knew he was all sad and stuff, and my mom cussed him out, but I figured everybody would get over it. I thought grown-ups were supposed to be mature?”
“I’m mature!” I argued, hella defensive… with a tween. “It’s just… You’re not old enough to understand.”
“Sure I am, my dad was being a fuckboy and it made you mad.”
“Do your parents know you’re cursing like this?!”
“No,” she giggled. “But my mom was the one who said it - about daddy acting like a fuckboy,” she explained, very comfortable with the term. “At first she was cussing him out for not telling her he was dating somebody, then he started trying to explain, and told her what happened at DistInk’d, which… He should’ve known better. My mom always goes nuts about Nya. She really doesn’t like that lady.”
I bit down on my lip, chewing a little as I tried to contain my curiosity. I really had no business having this conversation - any conversation - with Tristan’s child.
Especially since I’d been ignoring the fuck out of him for over a week now.
But lil sis had all the tea, and I wanted it.
“Does… Your mother always get mad about him having girlfriends?”
Kiara shook her head. “Nope. Just Nya. And she was cool about Nya at first, but… you’ve met Nya, so…”
“Yeah.”
“That’s why she was so mean to you at the store that day,” Kiara explained. “She’s still shellshocked from Nya.”
“How old are you again?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Thirteen,” Kiara giggled. “I read a lot.”
What?
“Anyway, my mom was all, I told you that bitch was nothing but trouble, but you don’t wanna listen. And so on.”
“Uh huh.”
“And then she was like, no woman who values herself worth a damn is gonna be cool with a slut puppy like Nya in your face unchecked, so if you want to be serious, you have to make a decision.”
“Wait, back up,” I said, raising my hands. “Slut puppy?”
Kiara shrugged. “My mom has all kinds of insults for Nya.”
Maybe I do like her, after all.
“Whatever - I hope your daddy - and your mother, and you know, that even if he does decide to drop his little friend… she’s not his biggest problem. He is.” I stopped again, shaking my head. “Why am I talking to a child about this? Actually - did he send you?”
Kiara’s face twisted in confusion. “Huh? You called me in here…”
Oh.
Right.
My point still remained.
Nya was a grown ass woman, in control of her own actions. Tristan wasn’t in charge of her. And really I didn’t even care about them remaining friends after their relationship was over.
My problem was with the way Tristan hadn’t set any real boundaries with her.
He gave her the access and confidence to feel like she could challenge and disrespect me where he was concerned. Could he make her do or not do anything?
Of course not.
But he set the tone, creating an environment where her bullshit was tolerated and accepted instead of treating it like the open hostility it was.
I’d been through too much to finally start living on my own terms to settle for a man who made another woman’s comfort paramount to mine.
His daughter?
Sure, I’d gladly take a backseat.
Even his mother, and the mother of his child within reason.
But Nya?
That shit was a nonstarter.
“I don’t think he knows how to let people go.”
Kiara’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I raised an eyebrow at her, confused.
“Huh?”
“You know he was in the military, right?” She asked, and I nodded my assent. “After last time - the last deployment - he was different when he came back.”
“Different how?”
“Kinda… sad, I guess?” she shrugged. “He doesn’t really talk about it, and he’s a lot better now, but mama told me a lot of his friends died. Like he saw them die. And I think that’s why he’s still friends with Nya. He doesn’t wanna lose anybody. Even when they’re annoying.”
I stood there, open-mouthed from that revelation as Kiara hopped down from the counter and returned her backpack to her shoulders.
“Anyway, thanks for the rescue. Sorry you had to out yourself.”
“Out myself?” I asked, following her to the door.
She looked back at me, wearing a self-satisfied grin.
“Yeah. As an assassin. Why else would you randomly have a blade to like…ninja slice somebody with?”
I laughed. “Well, there are these things called boxes, that sometimes need to be opened, and-”
“My dad told me what tattoo you got covered.”
Those words were like getting doused with a bucket of cold water.
“What did you just say?” I hissed, slipping quickly between her and the door.
She shrank back. “I’m sorry!”
“Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about, little girl.”
“Th-there were these…stories. It was on this site for fiction, but the author implied that it’s based on true stories. They’re all about like... espionage and murder and…sex,” she added, in a very, very quiet tone. “And one of the details is that, all the women have a rose tattoo.”
What the fuck…
“Show it to me,” I demanded, knowing she likely had a cell phone on her.