Renee fought back a smile. Even when being ridiculous, Dustin somehow managed to be endearing. "That's Tristan. My stepbrother."

Dustin's eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Stepbrother?" He looked between them with the expression of someone who'd just discovered a particularly juicy piece of gossip. "Really? Because when I first saw you two, I was like, 'Damn, that's some serious romantic tension right there.'"

"That's your overactive imagination talking," Renee said dryly.

"Is it though?" Dustin's eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something genuinely warm about his teasing. "I mean, he was about to feed you, you were sitting close enough to share oxygen, and the way you were looking at each other..." He whistled low. "If that's how siblings interact, I need to reevaluate my entire family dynamic."

Renee felt heat creep up his neck. "You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Dustin turned to Tristan with an expression of pure innocence. "Hey, Tristan, right? Quick question—do you normally hand-feed your siblings?"

Tristan had been watching this exchange with growing amusement, and now he stepped forward with that insufferable smirk firmly in place. "Only the ones who forget to eat when they're lost in thought."

"See!" Dustin pointed at them like he'd just solved a murder mystery. "That's not sibling behavior, that's—"

"Dustin," Renee interrupted, his voice carrying a warning that would have made lesser mortals back down.

But Dustin was not a lesser mortal. He was a man on a mission, and that mission was apparently to embarrass his boss into an early grave.

"Oh, come on, don't give me that look. I'm just saying, if you told me he was your boyfriend, I'd be like, 'Yeah, that tracks.'" Dustin's grin was so genuine and good-natured that it took the sting out of his words. "I mean, look at him! He's like, ridiculously attractive. If I swung that way, I'd be all over that."

"Thanks," Tristan said, clearly enjoying himself. "You're not bad yourself."

"Aw, thanks! See, Renee? He gets it. Compliments are free, and they make everyone's day better." Dustin beamed at both of them. "But seriously, you two have this whole... thing going on. It's cute."

Renee's eye twitched. "We don't have a 'thing.'"

"Sure you don't," Dustin agreed with the tone of someone who absolutely did not believe that for a second. "And I'm the Queen of England."

"Your Majesty," Tristan said with a mock bow, and Dustin burst into delighted laughter.

"Oh, I like him!" Dustin declared, pointing at Tristan. "He's funny! Keep this one, boss."

"He's my stepbrother," Renee repeated through gritted teeth.

"Right, right, stepbrother," Dustin nodded sagely. "Wink wink, nudge nudge."

"There is no winking or nudging!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Dustin quoted with theatrical flair.

Tristan was having the time of his life. "I like your friend, baby bug."

"He's not my friend, he's my employee," Renee said coldly.

"Ouch, boss. Right in the feels," Dustin clutched his chest dramatically. "And here I thought we had something special."

"We have a professional relationship."

"Professional relationship my ass," Dustin snorted. "You bought me soup when I was sick, you remembered my birthday, and you gave me a raise just because I mentioned my car was making weird noises. Face it, boss—you care about me."

Renee's glare could have melted steel. "I gave you a raise because you're annoyingly competent at your job."

"Aw, you think I'm competent! That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Dustin's smile was so bright it could have powered a small city. "I'm totally texting the group chat about this."

"Don't you dare."

"Too late, already typing," Dustin said, pulling out his phone with lightning speed. "Hey, do you want me to include a picture? You both look amazing in this lighting."

"Dustin, I swear to God—"

"Kidding, kidding!" Dustin held up his hands in surrender, but he was still grinning. "Relax, boss. Your secret is safe with me. Whatever that secret may be." He winked at Tristan, who was trying not to laugh.

"There is no secret!"

"Of course there isn't," Dustin said in the tone of someone humoring a small child. "Anyway, I should probably get going before you actually murder me. Abuela's making tamales, and if I'm late, she'll murder me, and that would be a much worse death than whatever you're planning."

He started backing toward the fence, still grinning. "It was nice meeting you, Tristan. Take care of our boy here, yeah? He's prickly on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside, like a cactus made of marshmallow."

"I am not soft and gooey!" Renee protested.

"Sure you're not, boss," Dustin laughed, vaulting back over the fence with the same easy grace. "See you Monday! Try not to do anything I wouldn't do!" He paused thoughtfully. "Actually, scratch that—I'd do pretty much anything. Just... be safe, kids!"

And with that, he jogged off, leaving behind the sound of his laughter and the faint scent of his ridiculously expensive cologne.

Tristan was still chuckling as he turned back to Renee, who looked like he was contemplating arson.

"I like him," Tristan announced.

"Of course you do," Renee muttered. "Birds of a feather and all that."

"Are you calling me annoying?"

"If the shoe fits."

Tristan grinned and settled back down beside him, close enough that their thighs touched. "So... soft and gooey on the inside?"

"Shut up."

"Like a marshmallow cactus?"

"I will end you."

"So violent," Tristan tsked, but his eyes were dancing with mirth. "And here I thought you were all sweet on the inside."

Renee turned to glare at him, only to find Tristan's face much closer than expected. Close enough to see the gold flecks in his brown eyes, close enough to catch the scent of his skin.

"I'm not sweet," Renee said, but his voice came out softer than intended.

"No," Tristan agreed quietly, his gaze dropping to Renee's lips for just a moment. "You're something much more interesting than sweet."

The moment stretched between them, charged with possibility, until the sound of the back door opening shattered it like glass.

"Trist, where are you?"

Nicole.

Reality crashed back down like a bucket of ice water.

Tristan's expression shifted, the playful warmth replaced by something more complicated. He stood up, creating distance between them. "Out here, Nicky."

She appeared in the doorway, blonde hair catching the sunlight, wearing one of Tristan's oversized t-shirts that somehow managed to look effortlessly chic on her. When she spotted Tristan, her face lit up with genuine joy.

"There you are," she said, crossing to him and rising on her tiptoes for a kiss. Renee’s stomach twisted as Tristan leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Just as he started to pull away, she held him there, deepening the kiss.

He looked away, focusing intently on his now-cold breakfast. He told himself the twist in his stomach was just hunger. Nothing more.

"Hey, Renee," Nicole said politely, and he could hear the effort it took to keep her voice neutral.

"Nicole," he replied with equal politeness, not looking up from his plate.

The silence stretched awkwardly until Nicole cleared her throat. "I was thinking we could all do something together today? Maybe check out that new art gallery downtown?"

"I'm busy," Renee said immediately.

"Doing what?" Tristan asked, and there was something challenging in his tone.

Renee finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. "Existing. It's a full-time job."

"Come on, baby bug—"

"Don't," Renee cut him off sharply, standing up. "Just... don't."

They froze at the sharp tone but Renee didn't care. Instead, he got up, grabbed his plate, and walked away—away from them.

Tristan and Nicole exchanged confused looks.

Nicole’s glare was sharp. “Did you two fight again?”

“No.” Tristan shook his head.

“Then what was that?”

“I... I don’t know.” His voice dropped into a mumble, mostly to himself. Why had Renee looked at him like that? Like he was… hurt?

Did he do something again?

But he hadn’t. Had he?

“Maybe it’s because I came…” Nicole trailed off, her expression shadowed with guilt.

Tristan’s eyes softened. “Nicky…”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. I’m starving.”

He sighed, defeated. He knew Nicole felt bad, and he wasn’t sure what to say to make it better. It was as if she had already accepted that Renee hated her. And maybe he did—because why else would his mood shift so drastically the second she arrived? Renee’s mood swings were driving him insane.

He needed to talk to him.

“Let’s go.” He led Nicole inside, where his family was already gathered in the dining room.

“Hey, you two, come sit with us,” Gabriel called out, motioning them over. They took their seats, but Tristan’s mind was elsewhere. His eyes scanned the room, searching for one person.

But Renee wasn’t there.

“Where’s Renee?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“I saw him outside earlier,” Naomi said between bites of food. “He told me he was going for a walk.”

“I’ve told you not to talk while eating,” Jesse scolded.

“Sorry,” Naomi muttered before shoveling another bite into her mouth.

Jesse shook her head. “That boy does whatever he wants these days.”

Tristan’s stomach tightened at the words. Renee had gone for a walk.

Did he feel that uncomfortable?

He considered going after him, but something told him Renee needed space. Maybe he just needed time to think. Hopefully, by the time he got back, he’d be calmer—less tense.

But four hours passed, and Renee still hadn’t returned.

Tristan’s worry grew into something suffocating. He knew Renee wouldn’t get lost—this city was his home, the place he’d grown up. He knew every street, every alley, every shortcut.

So where was he?

And why hadn’t he come back yet?

The weather was getting cloudy by the seconds signalling the impending rain. He's always hated the rain.

But he wasn't going to sit there and pretend he wasn’t restless. Maybe if Renee had answered even one of his calls, he wouldn’t be feeling this anxious. But all he had was silence—an eerie, gnawing silence that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

He clenched his jaw, tossing his phone onto the bed before running a hand through his hair. It was drizzling now, the faint patter of raindrops tapping against the windowpane. His fingers twitched with irritation. If Renee was still out there, he’d get caught in the rain. And knowing him, he wouldn’t even care.

With a sharp breath, Tristan got up and marched toward the closet. He needed to do something. Anything. He flung the door open, only to freeze mid-step.

Nicole stood in front of the mirror, her bare back exposed, sliding the straps of a lacy bra over her shoulders.

"Shit—sorry," he muttered, quickly turning his back and covering his eyes with his hand.

Nicole snorted at his reaction. “Oh, please. As if you haven’t seen all this before.”

He felt her move behind him, her presence close enough that he could catch the familiar scent of her vanilla perfume. She grabbed his wrists, gently prying his hands away from his face.

“Trist,” she said softly, her tone teasing yet searching. “Look at me.”

He swallowed hard before finally meeting her gaze. She was beautiful. That much had never changed. His eyes involuntarily roamed down her body, tracing every curve and angle. She was stunning in her lingerie—he knew that. He had always known that.

And yet, something felt... off.

"Do you like this?" she murmured, stepping closer.

Tristan’s throat went dry. His mind screamed at him to respond—to say something, anything. He nodded. "Yeah, you look beautiful."

Nicole’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she tiptoed, brushing her lips against his in a featherlight kiss. He remained still, unresponsive at first. But then she tugged at his hair, deepening the kiss, her fingers threading through the strands.

That was when he kissed her back.

For a brief moment, he let himself get lost in it. His hands instinctively found their way to her waist, pulling her close. He pushed her against the wardrobe, letting his palms wander over her bare skin.

"T-Tristan," she gasped when his fingers skimmed over the lace of her bra, pinching slightly.

Her breathy moan should have spurred him on. It should have made him want more.

But it didn’t.

Instead, a cold realization gripped him.

His eyes snapped open, his hands stilling against her body. His breath hitched, his heart thudding in his chest—not from desire, but from something else entirely.

Because for a split second—just a fraction of a moment—he hadn’t been thinking of Nicole at all.

Fuck.

His stomach twisted with guilt and confusion. What the hell was wrong with him?

Nicole blinked up at him, her lips swollen from the kiss. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Tristan stepped back, running a hand down his face. “I... I can’t do this.”

The words felt foreign even as they left his lips.

Her brows furrowed. "Why?"

He hesitated, scrambling for an answer. "I just think... we should take things slow."

Nicole scoffed, crossing her arms. "Slow? We've been together for three years, Tristan. What is there to take slow?"

She had a point. But he wasn’t thinking straight.

"I just—" He exhaled sharply, placing his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. "I want us to get back on track, you know? Not rush things."

Nicole's expression softened slightly, though frustration still lingered in her eyes.

"And besides," he added, grasping at anything to make sense of his own hesitation, "we’re in my parents’ house. It wouldn’t feel right."

That, at least, seemed to make her pause. She frowned but nodded. "Okay."

"I'm really sorry, Nicky," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

Nicole sighed. "I understand," she said, though he could tell she was disappointed.

He turned away, rummaging through his closet until he found a random shirt and threw it on. As he slipped his shoes on, Nicole watched him, arms still crossed over her chest.

"Are you going somewhere?" she asked.

Tristan hesitated for a split second before forcing a casual nod. "Yeah. Someone from work is in town, and we need to discuss something important."

A lie.

A clean, effortless lie.

Nicole studied him, her gaze sharp and assessing. She was a therapist—reading people was what she did best. And right now, she was looking at him the way she did her patients, as if she could see straight through him.

"It’s going to rain," she pointed out.

"I know," he said quickly. "But the place isn’t far. I’ll be back soon."

A long silence stretched between them before she finally nodded. "Okay."

Relief flooded him.

He walked to the door and reached for the handle when her voice stopped him.

“I love you.”

His stomach clenched. He turned around, forcing a smile. “I love you too.”

Then, without another word, he walked out.

And all he could think about was the person he was about to go find.

The one person who had been consuming his thoughts.

His stepbrother.

Pathetic.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself.