She couldn’t help smiling back, a bit of her confidence lifted. Tristan’s father treated her like she was his daughter. He was sometimes rough with his boys, but to her he remained sweet, making her feel special. “Hopefully no one’s.”
“Well, if anyone tries to break yours, I’ll make him regret it.” He patted her cheek fondly, then grabbed a cookie from the plate. “I invited your grandparents to dinner tomorrow. Can you join us?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’m looking for some redemption from our last poker game. I still think he cheats.”
He glanced over at Tristan, and his easy smile disappeared, replaced by a hard expression. “Glad you’re back this weekend. Have a big job coming up, so you need to work tomorrow.”
“I can give you a few hours, but I need to leave by three.”
Christian practically spit with disgust. “Boy, you’ll work till the job’s done. I’m allowing you to run off to your fancy college, but your future is right here. Houses don’t get built by themselves. Have your fun on someone else’s time—not mine.”
Tristan threw his head back in challenge. Rebellion shone from his eyes. “I’m taking seventeen credits this semester, and I work my ass off. I come back each weekend to help out. Why is it never enough for you?”
Dread trickled through her veins. Tristan and his dad were constantly fighting, and it seemed to be getting worse. Diane tried to run interference, but Christian usually ended up yelling at her, too, and then Sydney felt bad for everyone. What was happening to the family she loved?
His father seemed so cold as he stared back. “ ’Cause it’s not good enough. Lately, boy, nothing you do ever is.”
Raw pain flickered in Tristan’s amber eyes. She ached to get up and go to him, but he’d only shake her off. Diane put a hand on her son’s arm. “That’s enough,” she told Christian, her voice edged with warning. “He just got home. His studies come first. If we need to hire someone else, we will.”
The tension between them practically vibrated in the air, nothing resembling the easy camaraderie a husband and wife should exhibit. “If our sons did their jobs properly, we wouldn’t need outsiders. Babying them does no good for any of us.”
“Leave Mom out of this,” Tristan clipped out.
“Fine. I’ll have your brothers take up the slack while you go enjoy yourself. I’m going back to work.”
Christian walked out. Silence fell over the kitchen.
Tristan cursed under his breath. “I’m going up to my room.”
Diane took a step forward. “Honey, wait—”
But he shot off, disappearing up the stairs.
Sydney couldn’t stand it. Seeing him in pain was too much. “I’ll check on him,” she said, sliding off the stool.
But Diane caught her hand, shaking her head. “No. Sit back down, Syd. I want to talk to you about something.”
Heart pounding, she sat. Diane took the stool next to her. She seemed to be mulling over her words carefully. “Am I in trouble?” Sydney asked.
Diane squeezed her hand, smiling. “Of course not. You, my sweet girl, are a light around here. You help balance all this male energy in the house. I think I would’ve gone a bit crazy if I wasn’t able to talk about makeup or clothes or Matthew McConaughey.”
Sydney relaxed, soaking in the warmth that emanated from Diane’s figure. This kitchen was her safe haven. She couldn’t imagine not having the Pierce family in her life forever. “I feel the same way about you. Actually, all of you. I never lacked for siblings because of the boys.”
“Even Tristan?”
Sydney sucked in a breath. Had she betrayed herself? The knowing look on Diane’s face panicked her. “Wh-wh-what do you mean?”
Diane reached out and stroked her curls. The tender gesture allowed Sydney to lean into the embrace. “Oh, honey, I know how you feel about Tristan. I knew it from day one. There was always a connection between you two.”
Her face flamed. As embarrassing as Diane’s words were, a flood of relief poured through her. It had been a secret for so long she craved to talk to someone she trusted. Even if it was Tristan’s mom. “Is it that obvious?” she asked miserably.
“Only to me. No one else suspects.” She gave a long sigh. Her eyes filled with concern and an understanding that made Sydney feel like Diane really got it. “It’s hard right now. The age difference between you makes things difficult. And Tristan is going through a stage right now—figuring out who he is and what he wants in this life.”
“Is that why he’s always with a different girl?”
“Yes. That’s what boys do. They date to figure out who they are and what they’re really looking for.”
“He doesn’t even notice me. He never did.”
Diane nodded. “I know. He’s not ready yet, sweetheart. He needs to grow up a bit, and so do you.”
“I just have all these feelings,” she whispered. “I think about him all the time. And I want him to be happy. I think I’d do anything to make him happy. Is that messed up?”
Diane reached out and hugged her tight. “No, that’s what happens when you love someone. And you have all these hormones pumping through, making you even more confused. Tristan cares about you, sweetheart, more than I think he knows. But you need to be patient. If it’s meant to be, it will happen at the right time. But don’t lose yourself in trying to make him happy. You need to find yourself, too, and that takes time.”
She heard the words, but her heart didn’t care. Sydney only knew if she could get Tristan to be interested, she’d do anything necessary to keep him. Diane pulled away. Sydney spotted a sheen of tears in her eyes, but his mom just laughed and shook her head. “My son is a kindhearted, strong man who I love more than my life. But I also know there’s something within him I can’t reach. I’ve never been able to.” Frustration tinged her voice. “He keeps himself distant. Protected. He feels responsible in ways I can’t explain and is harder on himself than anyone else could be. And one day, he’s going to need to break that barrier open to have a full life. That’s the day I hope you’re right there to help him, my sweet girl.”
Sydney sat with her in the kitchen for a long time. They talked and ate chocolate chip cookies, and she dreamed about the future.
One day, Tristan would fall in love with her.
And then everything would be perfect.
The memory floated away, jarring her back to the present.
She finished her wine and shook her head to clear her thoughts. She’d just have to live with her lingering feelings and bury the attraction. Stick to business. Be polite but distant. Eventually she’d find a nice man to date and fall in love and leave Tristan Pierce and all her memories behind for good.
Because he could never know.
Chapter Four
Sydney looked at the long trail of abandoned houses lining Bakery Street and wondered if she’d been an idiot to take on such a project.
It was bad. Real bad.
“What do you think?”
She practically felt the challenge tingeing his tone, as if he was looking forward to her freak-out. Yes, it was a massive undertaking, but she was of the mantra “Go big or go home.”
She was going big—with or without his support.
“I think we’ll have our difficulties but will deliver. Why? What do you think?”
His gorgeous lip curled up. “I think we’re fucked.”
She shoved down her irritation and spun on her heel, stabbing her pen into the air. “Listen, I don’t need your negative energy on my project. If you don’t think you can get it done, I’ll be happy to grab Dalton or Cal.”
“They can’t handle a flip like this. Dalton will get obsessed with creating the perfect cabinet, and Cal will just want to rebuild everything. You’re stuck with me.”
His smug attitude only pissed her off further. She refused to deal with his snarky comments and his ridiculous polished appearance. She’d donned ripped, old jeans and a purple flannel shirt. At least her sneakers were pink with a small wedge heel for some type of femininity. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He’d shown up sporting a designer suit in crisp navy with a pink tie. What man had the guts to wear pink, especially to a job site? He should look metrosexual. Instead, he looked sexy and a touch bored, as if he’d just grabbed the first thing in his closet and thrown it on without care. She wished briefly for her own power suit and heels for some type of armor. She felt like a sixteen-year-old in her outfit, but she bucked up and refused to back down.