Page 90 of Corrupt

I stared at it.

A visitor’s parking permit.

My chest loosened unexpectedly and I exhaled a quiet laugh before I could stop myself, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Cheers.”

I crossed the road, unlocked the Audi, shoved the card against the windscreen and while I did it, I checked the burner. Shouldn’t have. There were messages. But I couldn’t deal with any of them then, so I shoved it in the glove box and when I turned back, Tristan was waiting, head tilted, making space without saying it.

He let me in.

Into his building.

His life.

And into something I didn’t deserve and didn’t want to name.

“Do you want anything?” He shut the door to his flat and gestured towards the sofa. “Drink? Eat?”

“Uh, only if you are.”

“I just ran ten miles. I’m on water for a bit.”

“Cool.” I nodded too fast. “Water’s good.”

Jesus Christ. I sounded fucking pathetic.

He came back with two bottles and handed me one. I didn’t open it. I held it, twisting the plastic, grounding myself in the pressure. But I watched him drink, the line of his throat working, the ease of it. And when he caught me staring, I looked away as if I’d crossed a line.

Then I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head, trying to dislodge the noise in it. “I’m…” Fuck. “I’m sorry.”

He twisted the cap back onto his bottle, still standing, as if he didn’t know where he was allowed to be. “For turning up?”

“No. Well, yeah. That too. But on Sunday. My sister. I didn’t handle that well.”

He bowed his head, gripping the bottle the same way I was gripping mine. As if it were a shield. Then he sighed, scrubbed a hand through his hair, and sat down hard on the coffee table opposite me, sweaty arse imprinting the expensive wood.

“I knew you weren’t out.” He kept his eyes on the label. “So I couldn’t have expected you to have handled it well.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “I ain’t some closet case. I know exactly who and what I am. I ain’t confused or have some internalised phobia shit. It ain’t none of that.”

“I know…”

“It’s survival. I ain’t got the luxury to give anyone anything they can use to water down the man I need to be. That includes my sister.”

“I said, I get it.”

“Do you?”

He cut a glance towards the balcony, as if he needed the air. If he smoked, I’d bet he’d be out there already. I wanted to be. But I needed to be here. In front of Tristan. Making him understand.

He turned back to me. “I appreciate how reactions like that are… instinctual.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

If he were, it meant I meant nothing.

And right then, I wasn’t sure which would tear me up more. That, or the things I’d done all week because Razor had been required and Rich hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the job.

“I get it.” He took another drink, refusing to really look at me. “I’m not naïve. I can be rational about this. I know what this is.”