Fighting Our Way Read online

  “Thank you,” Charlotte replies in an impatient voice as she watches him walk off. When she turns her gaze back to me, I know she means business. “Tristan is spiraling.”

  “I—”

  “You know he’s not himself, hasn’t been for the last six years. I thought I was finally getting through to him for a while, but he’s reverted back to not taking my calls and not bringing my grandbabies over to see me.”

  I sigh, looking out over the city landscape. “He’s not talking to me either. I’ve been trying for weeks and I’m not getting more than single word replies.”

  She takes a sip from her teacup. “And now this.” I’m assuming she means Harmony. “The kids love their art class. Clay is normally so reserved but he was coming out of his shell. He was actually talking at dinners with me before Tristan cut contact again.”

  “I didn’t know they were even taking an art class.” I think about the last time I saw them all. “I turned up at Izzie’s dance recital a while back and started talking about Natalia.” She gives me a pointed look and I roll my eyes. “I know it was stupid but he can’t keep pretending like she never existed. You should’ve seen the way Izzie’s eyes lit up when I mentioned her mom. They need to know about her.”

  “I agree.”

  Wait, what? “You do?”

  “I do. This has gone on for far too long now.” She sips on her tea. “I want my son back, not this angry shell of himself he’s become.”

  The waiter comes back with my coffee and a tray of fruits. I wait until he leaves to talk again.

  “I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried being understanding. I’ve tried to grieve along with him. I’ve tried being funny and inviting him to do things, but he won’t take the bait.”

  Her gaze falls on the city before looking back at me with a sigh. “Harmony was good for him, wasn’t she?”

  My head reels back at her random thought. “I, erm… where is this coming from?”

  She places her hands in her lap. “We were all at the studio last night, he seemed in good spirits at first until he disappeared. When he reappeared, he was flustered and said he had to go, something to do with work. I was skeptical but I made some phone calls last night and it turns out he was actually at work, which also worries me. Someone is trying to push him out of the company.”

  Someone is working against Tris? Fuck! I’m his lawyer, he should’ve called me last night!

  “He left the art studio and suddenly there she was right in front of me, and I knew this needed to happen.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My son has been broken only twice in his life. He has been for the last six years, but the first time was with Harmony. It got me thinking maybe…” She looks up from the table. “Maybe the healing can start with her.”

  I blow out a long breath as I look over the city again, knowing I have to divulge my secret. “I know I should’ve said something before, but I knew she was back.” Her eyes widen in horror when I look back at her. “I know, I know, don’t look at me like that I feel bad enough as it is. But she came to me for legal advice, for what I can’t say anything more on, but I couldn’t betray her trust. It wasn't my place to say.”

  “You could’ve told him she was back and prepared him. Our town isn’t that big of a place.”

  “How was I to know he would take the kids to her art studio?”

  “He wouldn’t have been blindsided last night if you’d have said something. That art class means everything to the kids and now I’m afraid he’s going to take it away from them because of her.”

  I think back to her earlier thoughts as I pick up a grape and pop it into my mouth. “What does this have to do with him healing?”

  “We need to find a way to worm our way back into his life, so to speak.”

  I chuckle. “Worm our way back in?”

  “He needs help. If we can start mending our relationships with him, then maybe he will listen and let the kids go to art class. If he happens to run into a certain art teacher while there and he can heal that broken part of himself again, then maybe he has a chance to start over.”

  I can’t comprehend what she’s saying properly. I toss the idea about in my head but come up blank. “You can’t force them together.”

  “I’m not trying to. All I want is those kids to go to art class and for my son to start learning it’s okay to be upset, but he has people that love him and want to help.”

  I shake my head. “We need to leave Harmony out of this. We can do it on our own, starting tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” She raises a brow at me.

  I nod coming up with a plan. “I’m swamped at work until Wednesday, but I can start getting things ready tomorrow.”

  “Getting things ready for what?”

  I smile wide. “It’s time we bring back family cookouts. Charlotte, I’m done being gentle with him. It’s time for some tough love.”

  She starts to nod slowly. “I’ll take the kids out of school early and call Amelia and Edward to help.” She looks up at me, holding her teacup out. “Wednesday?”

  I lean forward in my chair, clinking my cup against hers. “It’s a plan.”

  I whistle my way through Carter Enterprise’s lobby, nodding at the security guards who know me. I press the button for the elevator and wait, smiling at the three other guys waiting, too.

  The doors open and I wave them ahead of me as we all press the button for our floors. I wait patiently until the doors open again. Catiya—Tris’s personal assistant—flits out from behind her desk.

  “Mr. Cole, I’m sorry but you—”

  “Excuse me, Catiya, I’m going to see my friend,” I say gleefully, ignoring her protests as I push open the door to his office.

  The sound of the door banging off the wall echoes throughout the room and his gaze snaps up from his desk.

  He frowns at me before growling out, “Nate.”

  I don’t care that he doesn’t want me here, this is the first time I’ve seen him in weeks and I’m not leaving unless it’s with him in tow.

  “Tris,” I say, shutting the door behind me and leisurely walking over to the crystal decanter containing the expensive whiskey he offers to clients. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

  “It’s been a couple of weeks,” he grinds out.

  With my back turned away from him so he can’t see my face, I smile; I’m done with his shitty mood swings and I’m about to dish up a serving of tough love.

  After offering him one of the glasses I pour, I sit down in one of the plush leather sofas in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching as indecision and annoyance dances on his face.

  He sighs before pushing his chair back and walking over to me, taking the glass from my hand and placing it on the edge of his desk without taking a sip. He pushes his hands into his pockets and stares out the window, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

  “So, what’s been going on?” I ask casually.

  He tears his gaze away from the windows, tension lining his expression. We stare at each other for another beat before he says, “Pete tried to turn the board against me.”

  Of course I already know this from Charlotte, but I pretend not to.

  “You’re shitting me!” I chuckle and drink the rest of my drink, standing up to pour another. “What happened?”

  He tells me about Pete arranging a secret meeting with the board and mentions the kids’ art show—one I should’ve received an invite to, but didn’t. My jaw ticks. “Would’ve been nice if you had invited me.”

  He blows out a breath. “I didn’t think it necessary after the stunt you pulled at the recital.”

  “I did nothing wrong and you know it, stop being an ass.” I sit down on the sofa again, deciding to steer the subject into neutral territory. I need to keep him talking properly before I lose him. “How’s the kiddiwinkles?”

  He clears his throat but doesn’t turn around as he says, “They’re good.”

  “We
haven’t spent any proper time together in a while, we should do something fun!” His shoulders tense up, but I continue on anyway. “How about a cookout!”

  He turns around, his face a mask of confusion. He seems to think about it but I see the very moment he shuts the idea off in his head before he barks out, “No, I’m busy.”

  He plays with his suit jacket, ignoring me. I’m done being nice. “You know what.” I slam my glass down on the table in front of me and stand up, pointing at him. “You need to get your shit together.”

  “You need—”

  “No, I don’t need to do anything.” I take a few steps toward him. “If you opened your fucking eyes, you’d have an idea of what is going on around you, but you’re too stuck in your own selfish bubble to realize that people need you.”

  “That right?” he asks without emotion in his voice. “Do you have any idea what it’s like going back to that house every day knowing that she’s not there?”

  Of course I do. I’ve had to go to family dinners without them there for the last six years. “Tris—”

  He squares up to me and raises his voice. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear your son screaming for his mom during the night? To be so scared of the dark that he has to sleep with countless nightlights on, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help him?”

  I cringe; I hate hearing how Clay is coping just as badly as Tris is, but I need to steer this back to him. “Tris, I’m not talking about the kids—”

  He takes another step forward so we’re inches apart now as he spits out, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to look into your daughter’s eyes and see your dead wife? Do you? Huh?”

  The tension in the room reaches boiling point and I try to tamp down the anger and the sadness working its way back into my psyche, but I can’t. She was my cousin; my friend. So I get it. The pain I was in after she died was indescribable, but I knew I had to keep those kids afloat still, so I immersed myself in helping out whenever I could and work until slowly the pain dulled a little, becoming manageable.

  “Do you think you’re the only one grieving?” My voice rings out in the large office. “She was my family too, just like those kids are. Yet you won’t even talk about their mom.”

  “Because I fucking can’t!” he screams, his voice catching at the end as he looks away, his eyes shutting. “I can’t talk about her.”

  I squeeze his shoulder gently, showing him I’m here for support. I’ve always been here. “You have to, not for you, but for those two little humans who need to know all about her.” He opens his eyes and looks at me, the tears shining in their depths nearly making me stop my onslaught, but I can’t. I promised Charlotte I’d do this. “Clay may think he remembers her, but he doesn’t. He remembers the idea of her. And Izzie? She never met her and yet you won’t tell them what they need to know.”

  He takes a few steps away from me. “I can’t—”

  “They need to know about her.” I start listing the things they need to know and remember about her. She was an amazing person. But as I’m talking, a vacant expression crosses his face before he closes his eyes and sighs in defeat. I know he knows I’m right, I just need to give him a push in the right direction without him feeling like I’m ganging up on him. It’s time for part two of mine and Charlotte’s plan: actually getting him to leave work.

  I grip his shoulder again in silent support. “Come on. You need an afternoon off, let’s go and have a drink.”

  He opens his eyes again and shakes his head; anger has replaced the vacant look that was just there. “No… I told you, I’m busy.”

  I’m not letting him brush me off this time. “The hell you are. Get your fucking shit and let’s go.” His eyes widen but he doesn’t move as I hold the door open for him. “I’m not asking you to do this for me.” I pause for effect because I know what I’m about to say is screwed up, but he won’t deny the kids anything. “Do it for the kids.”

  We stare at each other and I’m worried he’s going to shut down on me at any second. He’s the first to look away before sighing and grabbing his cell, following me out of the office and telling Catiya to cancel the rest of his meetings for the day before we take the ride in the elevator down to the lobby.

  “We’re going for a drink?” he asks, scrolling through his phone.

  “Yeah, I thought we could go to Gillies.” I needed to make something up so he isn’t suspicious as to why we’re driving toward where he lives.

  I point him toward where I haphazardly parked my car at the curb and we both get in, the silence between us uncomfortable all the way out of the city.

  I steal a few glances at him but he doesn’t acknowledge me, choosing to go between staring out of the passenger seat window and down at his cell. We make it to the part of town where I have to veer off toward Tris’s street and my palms start to sweat, luckily his gaze is pointed at his cell the whole time so he doesn’t bat an eyelid as I pull onto the gravel driveway.

  That is until I park in front of his house and he looks up, his jaw tensing. “What are we doing here?”

  He gets out and slams the door behind him as he looks at his mom’s car beside mine. I push out of my car and match his fast pace toward the doors.

  “Listen, Tris, we thought—”

  “Tristan!” Charlotte walks out of the front doors with Izzie on her heels.

  The confusion and anger radiating off him isn’t a good sign as he looks back at me.

  Shit. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all?

  I stare at Charlotte as she walks through the front door, Clay and Izzie trailing behind her along with Edward.

  When she called to tell me her and Nate’s plan, I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea. The last thing Tristan would want is to be ambushed, but I can see neither her nor Nate know what to do to get him to talk.

  I wince as I think about the run-in I had with Tristan just a few days ago after we went to the gallery night at the kids’ art studio.

  “Harmony?” I ask, pushing up off the counter.

  “Yeah… she’s back. She’s the kids’ art teacher.”

  My eyes widen. “You saw her? Yesterday?”

  “Yeah.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “This is the last thing I need on top of all the shit going on at work.”

  “Tris…” I move forward, placing my hand on his arm.

  “Don’t,” he growls, backing away from me. “I can’t do this, this can’t be happening. Everything was going good—”

  I laugh, so abrupt he halts. “Everything is not going good,” I tell him. “You’re walking around like a zombie. How many hours’ sleep did you get this week? You’re not talking to your mom; you’re not talking to Nate. You’re pretending, Tris. You’re acting like life is perfect when it’s not, and it won’t be until you face everything head-on.”

  “You don’t have the first fucking clue about what’s going on in my life.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sure I don’t, I’m only the one fielding your mother’s calls; I’m the one that has to tell Nate the kids are okay. I’m the one defending you to everyone, telling them to let you work through things.” I pause, raising a brow. “But you’re not, are you? You’re going to do it again: you’re going to pretend.”

  “You’ve been talking to Nate?” he grunts. Out of everything I said, that’s what he wants to focus on?

  “You know what, forget it. Like you said, I’m not needed here today, right?”

  Maybe Charlotte and Nate are right: the only way to get him to face what he’s doing is to shove it down his throat.

  I’m brought out of my own head when Izzie shouts, “We got out of school early!” running toward me and dropping her backpack on the floor.

  “You did!” I give her a warm smile, my nerves on edge for what is about to transpire in this house.

  “Go on up and get changed.” Charlotte claps her hands. “Then we can go and have fun outside!”

  Izzie runs up the sta
irs but Clay stops in front of me, a worried look in his eyes. He’s observant and he knows something is about to happen.

  “Go on,” I encourage.

  He hesitates a beat before he shakes his head and follows after Izzie.

  “Come on then, let’s get everything set up. Nate said they’re on their way.” Charlotte flits past me, her heels clacking on the marble floor.

  Edward gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t think this is going to go down well either, but follows her dutifully, knowing whatever he says won’t be listened to either.

  We make the side dishes and by the time Izzie and Clay come down, we’re outside on the patio setting the table.

  “They’re here!” Charlotte pulls on her necklace nervously, looking like she regrets doing this. A quick shake of her head and the look disappears being replaced by the confident woman she always is.

  Izzie follows after her back through the house as Clay sits next to me, his hands in his lap and his eyes focused on the table.

  “Hey,” I say, placing my hand over his. “What’s up?”

  “Dad’s not going to like this,” he whispers.

  I give his hand a gentle squeeze, silently agreeing with him but not wanting to say it out loud. He can feel the tense atmosphere, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s coming from me. Maybe if I act like this is a good idea then he’ll not be so tense?

  The sounds of footsteps come closer and when I turn my head I see Izzie pulling Tris through the back door. His eyes take everything in: the grill open and the table set for a cookout. His gaze finally lands on me and then Clay, the swirls in his eyes telling me he’s not happy in the slightest.

  Edward shuffles in the seat opposite me as he comes under Tris’s scrutiny.

  “I need to go and get changed,” he tells Izzie, letting go of her hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She nods her head at him before skipping over to me and sitting on the chair to my right.

  He heads inside, no doubt toward Nate and Charlotte. Izzie starts to tell us all about her friend at school and how she has a new pencil case containing hidden compartments. We all seem to be listening to her with one ear while trying to make out the murmurs coming from the kitchen.