“I don’t really know you,” I point out.
“Do you want to know why I stuck around all these years, Saoirse?” he asks. “Do you want to know why I allowed myself to be used by your father, even when I knew he was a useless lout who would never be of any use to society?”
The panic turns to fear.
It claws at my throat and swallows up all the courage I thought I possessed.
“Because of you, Saoirse,” he tells me. “Even as a child, I noticed you. You were neglected, oftentimes ignored. But I saw you.”
The words sound beautiful.
So why do they leave me with an imminent feeling of dread?
Why do I feel like his interest, his so-called concern for me is sinister?
“I saw the quiet, thoughtful kid and I knew I had to stick around. To protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” I rasp through dry lips.
“Clearly, you do,” Tristan tuts. “You just said it: you have no one else. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Tristan…”
He stands up and I break off.
He’s still several feet away from me, but I feel claustrophobic already.
“How old are you now?” he asks.
I almost gag on the answer. “Eighteen.”
“Eighteen,” he says with a pleased nod. “You’re finally a woman.”
He takes a step towards me. I freeze.
“Tristan, please,” I beg. “I need to see my father.”
A flash of annoyance passes across his cold grey eyes. “Here I am, pouring my heart out to you, and all you can think of is your father?”
He makes it sound like my preoccupation is rude.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because his excessive calm right now hints at a darker side. A volatile temper that I’m not equipped to deal with right now. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
“I told you I’d take care of him, didn’t I?” Tristan says, taking another step towards me. “And I’ll never break my promises, Saoirse. Not to you.”
My back hits the kitchen wall and I press myself against it.
Please… no. Don’t come any closer.
But I know saying those words out loud will cost me.
Worse still, they might cost my father.
“You trust me, don’t you, Saoirse?” he whispers.
His hand reaches out and pushes back a stray curl of hair. He tucks it back behind my ear slowly. It reminds me of Brody Murtagh.
He touched me with the same sense of ownership that Tristan does.