February 14th
Tristan and Kaylee Andrew's house Late, late night
“Andrew!” She was on her feet as soon as she’d heard the car pull in, meeting them on the porch with bare feet, bundled in a pastel pink robe. Then they got out of the car and some of the worry was replaced by annoyance, but it still came from the same place of concern. She came up short, looking between the two with the words frozen on her lips for a moment.
“You stupid bastard.” It was Andrew she addressed, stepping out to shove him. “Oh my god, you stink like an ashtray. Go take a shower and get your shit together.” She didn’t talk to him that way. She never had. But she was crying now and that made her angry with him. “Don’t you dare apologize. Don’t talk to me while you’re like this.”
She wouldn’t have any of whatever he might have wanted to say. She was already spinning away, and it was Tristan’s turn. “What the hell happened? You said you’d bring him home, not get in a fight.”
Kaylee wiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks, the frustration a growl in her words. It seemed obvious enough when they both came back looking like shit that things had gotten physical between the pair.
He stepped back against the car, breathing in sharply. He didn’t lash out at her though, physically or otherwise.
“I got in a fight. Tristan helped me out.” He threw the explanation in there, but he kept the rest of what he wanted to say to himself. She was right. And he was getting off pretty easy. A shower sounded like a hell of a lot of work, but he made his way into the house to see it done anyway. Then he could collapse into that bed, which thanks to Melisande had one pillow too many, and gave in to the mercy of a dreamless sleep.