It killed Izzie to see the pain in Tristan’s face.

He had the right to hate her.

Kick her out of his apartment.

Make a scene.

He did nothing of the above.

Instead, he sat on the couch, elbows dug in his powerful thighs, hands dangling between his legs.

His eyes stared into space.

She had stunned him, broken him.

Again.

She needed him whole, but she was breaking him all over again.

It shattered her heart just the same.

She had waited too long to give him the truth.

It brought pain rather than redemption.

What was I thinking?

She could only pray he would understand her reasons.

“Fuck, Izzie. I need time. I need to process this crap. You shouldn’t have dumped this shit on me like that. I mean, I’ve got a son, for fuck’s sake. You never told me I had a son.”

After his long, contemplative silence, Tristan spat out the words like a machine gun on steroids. He barely breathed. A thick, blue-green vein beating on his neck and forehead worried her, but Izzie didn’t have it in her to stop him. He needed to get the anguish out of his system, she had prepared herself for that.

No mental rehearsal had included that level of raw emotions. She did her best to cope with reality.

He raged on. “You, better than anyone, knew how badly I wanted a family. You witnessed my suffering growing up without a dad. Damn it, you would be the one helping me get my act together whenever I flew off the handle.”

“I did that because I felt guilty. You wouldn’t listen to your mom. You kept picking fights at school to protect me, but you never told her that. She thought you were using. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I didn’t tell her about the bullying.”

Tristan shook his head as a faint smile lightened his painful expression. “Those idiots.” His face got clouded again. “That doesn’t matter now. I used your bullying as an excuse to knock people around. I was so mad all the time. I was mad at everyone, but mostly I was mad at myself.”

He paused again, but Izzie knew better than to say anything. Her memories of his rebel days were certainly as vivid as his. She had gained her status of safe haven back then. He would call her that after all those times he cried himself to sleep, face buried in her long hair, or on her lap. They were both kids, so there wasn’t any sexual component in those moments. She would stroke his back, while he wailed and cussed.

His words still echoed in her head. Why, Izzie? Why wasn’t I good enough for dad to stick around?

At twelve, she didn’t know how to fix her best friend’s agony.

At thirty-eight, she felt almost as clueless. Only this time, she had broken his heart.

Tristan added, “You heard me promise, over and over, that I would never put my kid through the same hell I went through. I promised I would never abandon my own. You didn’t give me a say in the matter, though.” His eyes bore into hers and it took her all she had not to flinch. “How do you think I feel learning my son grew up without me?”

She swallowed past the block of regret choking her throat and forced the words out of her mouth. “I cannot undo what I did. I can’t erase the pain I caused. I would if I could. I hope you understand why I did it all, though. I was young and stupid, no quarrel there. But, I did what I thought was right. I was protecting you. Mark’s words weren’t empty threats. He could have pulled that off. He scared the shit out of me. But, I didn’t care what happened to me, as long as you were safe. I couldn’t live, if they killed you. I couldn’t live without my soul.”

He shook his head, his face blank as if he was in a daze. Izzie couldn’t tell if he had heard her or not.

“Does Arthur know about me?”

“Not until recently.”

“What changed?” She could almost hear the gears in his head as he clued in. “Whatever happened to make you change your mind and tell him about me? That’s why you came down here, isn’t it?”

She nodded and waited for him to process the thoughts that were going in circles in his mind. She knew that face, the one Tristan wore when he was in deep concentration.

He rambled, “You married Mark, so his blackmailing worked. You stayed together for what, five years? It’s a long time to stay in a marriage based on lies and blackmail. Then again, you were both into heavy drugs, so I guess it didn’t really matter. Suddenly, you decided to get your act together. You got clean and dumped Mark. You could’ve come clean with me back then. Why didn’t you? Why wait until now?”

“I was a wreck back then. Arthur’s diagnosis was my wake-up call. He needed me sober, so I checked myself into a rehab facility.”

“What diagnosis?”

“He was born with mild kidney dysplasia, which is a genetic or acquired condition. In his case it’s the latter, due to my drug abuse during pregnancy.” She stopped his words with her raised hand. “There’s nothing you can say that would make me feel worse than I already do. I’m to blame for his disease and I’ve lived with that regret for a long time.”

“I wasn’t about to say anything like that. I was going to say my mom has kidney failure.”

“Oh, it’s just that all these years, I’ve been beating myself up because Arthur is paying for my sins. I thought you would blame me.” When Tristan shook his head, she added, “After Arthur was born, in the first years, the doctors monitored his condition, which was fine. But, guilt made me get deeper into drugs. I spiraled out of control, began using heavier stuff. Mark was glad to supply them. I would only let him touch me when I was high. Well, I didn’t allow him to touch me, more like I didn’t fight him because I was too wasted.” She ignored Tristan’s sharp intake of air, afraid she wouldn’t be able to finish telling him it all, if she stopped talking for a moment. “That changed when Arthur’s health worsened. He needed me, like really needed me. My parents were gone, he didn’t have anyone else. I checked myself into rehab and worked hard to vanquish my demons. I had to become the mother Arthur needed. When I got clean, I realized I didn’t need Mark in my life, or anyone else who would bring me down. I kicked him out of the house and filed for divorce. Mark was in too much trouble with the police back then, he signed the divorce papers without a peep.”

“Still, you didn’t come clean with me after you divorced him.”

She fumbled with her hands, but didn’t cast her eyes down. She held his stare, wanting to give him a chance to read her feelings. She hoped he hadn’t lost that uncanny skill of his. He used to read her like a freaking book.

Izzie confessed, “I chose to concentrate on Arthur. When I started going to the NA meetings, my sponsor advised me I needed to strengthen myself before facing you because your reaction had the potential to trigger a serious relapse. In the meantime, Mark’s drug problems got worse and he ran out of money. He went back to blackmailing me, only then he wanted money in exchange for not telling the press about Arthur’s real father. I was focused on my son’s health and on getting myself back on track. I didn’t want to deal with Mark, I suppose. I don’t know. It just seemed easier paying his hush money and getting on with life than having to deal with him.”

Silence filled the space between them as Tristan stared into her eyes as if probing her soul.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before saying, “I could have helped, if you had come to me then. I would have stepped up and gladly taken care of my son.” He paused and sighed. The weight of the world still on his shoulders. It looked so from where Izzie was observing him struggle with his emotions. He shrugged. “I don’t see the point in discussing what I might have done, though. Forget I mentioned it. What did the doctors say about Arthur’s condition back then?”

“His kidneys began to fail, so the doctors put him on dialysis.”

“That’s what happened to my mom. It worked for a while until it didn’t. Now, they say there’s little else they can do for her. Her body is slowly shutting down.”

Izzie squeezed Tristan’s hand. “Arthur’s been on dialysis for about five years, but recently the prognosis got grim. He needs a transplant. The doctors haven’t found a compatible donor due to his rare blood type. The same as yours.”

“He’s type O negative? Oh, God. He can only get blood transfusions from another typo O negative.”

“Same goes for a kidney transplant.”