Tristan: Finding Hope (Nova #3.5) Read Online Free PDF

People tend to get a little scared when you mention drugs, especially things like meth and heroin. I open my mouth, fully intending just to tell her weed, but the truth comes out.
    “I was into heroin and meth pretty hardcore for a while,” I say and I swear to God the bag of meth in my pocket jumps out and says:
And he’s about to do it again.
    I expect her to ask how long I’ve been clean, but she says, “That’s good. That you got cleaned up from that I mean.” She seems really nervous and reaches for a napkin and starts shredding it to pieces. “I’ve heard that stuff can really ruin your life.” The way she says it has me wondering if she’s speaking from experience. Not personally, but maybe someone close to her.
    “That tattoo on your neck.” Before I can stop myself, I graze my finger across it. I quickly pull my hand away, playing it off as cool, when really I want to leave my fingers there, feel the softness of her skin just a little bit longer. “You got that when you got clean?”
    She tries to appear calm, but I detect a hint of a shiver, perhaps from my touch. She peels off another piece of the napkin. “Once I hit the one-year marker.” She traces her finger over the tattoo and this time I notice there’s a scar above it, right across her throat. It’s faint but still there, across her skin. Her finger trembles as she touches the scar, then drops her hand to the countertop. “So what’s it like building a house?”
    It’s clear she wants a subject change so I give it to her. “Honestly?” I ask and she nods. “Hot and boring.”
    She laughs, finally shoving the napkin to the side and looking at me again and not in a way that she has to look at me because we’re sitting here, chatting. She’s looking at me like she wants to look at me, like she’s fully noticing me now, like she’s enjoying sitting here beside me. “So why are you doing it then?”
    I nod toward Nova and Quinton without taking my eyes off her. “Those two are into it and they asked me to come with them.” I pause. “They keep me out of trouble.”
    She nods. “Gotcha. So then they’re kind of like you’re sponsors or something.”
    “Yeah, something like that,” I say, not wanting to get into the details of our complicated triangle.
    She’s about to say something else when suddenly someone says something really loud and her attention snaps to the side of us. I sense her tense up, her hands balling into fists, her jaw setting tight. I turn to find what’s got her so scared and see a guy striding toward us through the crowd with his eyes focused solely on her as he pushes people out of his path. He looks rough around the edges; short hair, goatee, arms covered in tattoos that go up to his shoulders and his neck.
    “Fuck,” she utters under her breath. “I can’t handle this shit tonight.”
    I’m about to ask her what when the guy reaches us. “You didn’t call me back,” he says to Avery.
    “That’s because I had nothing to say.” Avery reaches for her napkin and starts ripping it to pieces.
    He moves around to the back of her and her whole body goes rigid. “We need to fucking talk, Avery. You can’t just keep ignoring me.”
    “Of course I can,” she says, staring ahead instead of at him. “Besides, you’re not even supposed to be talking to me at all. Court’s orders.”
    Shit. This is the last thing I want to get in the middle of. I’m about to get up and walk away, go to the bathroom and do my thing, when the guys says, “Who the fuck is this?”
    I’ve had my ass kicked many times. I’m an ex-junkie who used to deal and steal and mess with the wrong people. In fact, I almost got killed over it once. That alone should have me getting up and leaving, because this guy seems like the kind who would start swinging with no real cause except for he thinks I’m doing something to him. But Avery looks at me with this plea in her eyes that says
Please don’t leave me.
    “He’s just a