Read Online Promise by Kristie Cook - Free Book Online Page A

to think of him at the moment.
I decided to skip both classes, a first for me. I rolled over on my
side, for some reason wanting to cry.
    Instead, I took a shower. I stood under the
spray of hot water, just letting it flow over me, when the answer
became clear. Mom had mentioned his kin—she must have dated his
father or brother or other relative.
    She had many boyfriends over the years and it
always ended badly. She never explained what happened with most of
them, whom she seemed to love one day and couldn't get away from
fast enough the next. We moved immediately after every break-up. I
could only figure she was unable to love a man and let him love
her, because they were usually good men, according to my sense. Except for Lenny….
    My mind flashed the memory of Mom throwing
Lenny across the room, his body hitting the wall with a thud, blood
smears on the white paint as his limp form slid to the floor. Two
minutes before, he'd tried to kiss me. I was twelve. "Don't worry,
he's not dead," she had said once we were in the car, driving to a
new city. I shuddered at the memory. He was bad and, if they were
related, it would explain her reaction to seeing Tristan. It would
also explain his non-reaction when Mom said I was her daughter.
    But why did they hide this from me? Why all
the secrets?
    ***
    As afternoon started to slip into evening, I
began to grow anxious. I was used to being home alone during the
day and even if Mom came home after dark, I at least knew she would be home. Now I had a long, lonely, scary night to look
forward to. Until the phone rang.
    "You weren't in class today." Tristan's
lovely voice. I couldn't help my smile. Did he miss me?
    "Sophia and I had an argument."
    "Ah. Is it safe now?"
    I didn't know what to say at first and
briefly considered lying, but there was no point in it. After all,
I hid just as much as he did, probably more. Besides, if my theory
was correct, it wasn't fair for us to hold Lenny or anyone else
against him. And whatever Mom was so concerned about, it couldn't
be too bad—she made it clear to him she was leaving me home alone.
"Yeah. Actually, she's gone for the weekend."
    "Would you like to go to the beach with me?
The sun will be setting soon."
    I thought about it—for half a second. "Sure.
That'd be great."
    Not able to sit still, I waited outside,
pacing the driveway. I heard the Harley from more than a block away
and butterflies fluttered in my stomach by the time Tristan
arrived.
    "Ride or walk?" he asked over the rumble
after pulling into the driveway.
    "Let's walk."
    Our cottage was less than two blocks to the
beach, the street covered with the broad canopies of the
many-legged banyan trees that were larger than the Old
Florida-style cottages they guarded. It was a gorgeous evening, the
warmth of the afternoon still hanging in the air. We walked in
silence the entire way. Every once in a while, Tristan would look
down at me and smile and I'd automatically smile back.
    I tried to ignore all the questions soaring
through my mind, because they all had to do with a conversation I
probably wasn't supposed to hear. I wished I had the chutzpah to
just flat out ask him who he was and what happened between him and
my mother. But I didn't. Besides, I'd realized this afternoon,
there were two problems with seeking the answers to my
questions.
    One, it would likely lead to me being on the
other end—the one answering questions instead of asking. If I
wanted to know more about Tristan, then I had to be prepared for
him to know more about me. And I wasn't ready for that yet. At
least, not the deep stuff. He already knew too much—one of my
biggest secrets—Sophia was my mother. Surely he had to have his own
questions about how that could be, which leads to the second
problem. Two, getting into the deeper conversation about all of our
secrets meant giving up any kind of normalcy to our relationship—or
whatever it became. And I wasn't ready for that, either.
    I was probably lying