Broken Pieces

Page 41

“Bastard.” Ben laughed.
“You got that right.” Tristan hung up the phone, knowing he’d been an asshole to who was probably his only real friend. The only person who didn’t want something from him. He knew a lot of people, but he didn’t call any of them friends.
He slammed the car door harder than he needed to before slipping his phone into his suit pocket.
“Mr. Croft.” The doorman nodded as Tristan walked into the building. He returned the nod before taking the elevator to the eleventh floor. Using his key, he unlocked the door before stepping into the immaculately clean apartment. On the far side of the room, in front of the window, he saw her sitting in a chair and staring out.
He bit back the anger that surged to the surface.
“I woke up to go to the restroom and she was just sitting there, staring out the window,” Isabel whispered, stepping up beside him. “I asked her if she needed anything but she only shook her head. That’s the only response I’ve gotten out of her. I’ve offered her food, drink, if she wanted to go back to bed, or if she wanted me to call you. Nothing. She didn’t have the blanket when I woke up, but it’s cold, so I wrapped it around her. Still nothing.”
Tristan bit the inside of his cheek. Shoved his fisted hands into his pockets. “Thank you, Isabel. I’ll take care of it from here.” Without another word, she went to her room and closed the door.
Tristan walked over and stood next to her. “What are you looking at, Mom?”
Silence greeted him. Tristan forced himself to continue talking. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
Nothing.
From standing over her, Tristan could see her eyes wide, lost in he had no idea what. The busy streets of San Francisco were below, but she didn’t seem to be focused on them.
“Isabel called me. She’s worried. She’s great, don’t you think? She takes incredible care of you.”
His mom loved Isabel. She wasn’t the first caregiver he’d hired to live with his mother, but by far the best. When his mom felt well, she always tried to marry them off. Said she loved Isabel like the daughter she never had and knew she could make Tristan happy.
He never told her that no one could do that for him. He accepted that, and was okay with it. He had his career, and she was taken care of. That’s all that mattered to him.
When she didn’t reply about Isabel, worry burned deeper through him. She hadn’t had an episode like this in so long.
“Mom.” He set his hand on her shoulder. “I need you to speak to me. Do you hear me? I need you to pull out of it. Come back.” Lightly, he squeezed her shoulder. The anger fought to take control again. Damn it. God-fucking-damn it. Hadn’t she been through enough?
“Tristan?” She turned and looked at his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”
He allowed himself to breathe again. “I’m here. What were you doing?”
It took her at least a minute to reply. “I’m...I’m not sure. I couldn’t sleep. My mind wouldn’t stop going, so I came out here. I guess I fell asleep or something.”
Or something. He hated it when she got lost in her head like that, felt out of control. Neither of them had much control over their world when he was younger. He damn sure did everything he could to make sure they had it now.
“That’s okay. Are you taking your medication?”
“Yes. You know Isabel gives it to me every day.” She looked up at him with dark eyes like his. Dark brown hair like his.
“Did something happen? Did I do something?” Her voice rose, panic making it shake.
“No.” Tristan shook his head. “You’re fine.”
She grabbed his hand and kissed it. “You’re such a good boy. Isabel...she’s good too. She—”
“Isn’t a man.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “And a relationship is the last thing I want.” Ever.
“Well that’s just silly. Everyone wants to be loved, Tristan, and if it’s a man that will make you happy, then find one. I don’t care who makes you happy, as long as you are.”
Everyone wanted to be loved? Not him. That need in her had caused her nothing but pain.
“I’m happy.”
She smiled. When she did, it was easy to forget she was clinically depressed. That she lost herself sometimes. “And I’m hungry. They have the most incredible berry scones at the Warf. Fisherman’s Roast. Isabel gets them for us often. Do you have time to go for me? We can have a scone and chat.”