Chapter 21

21

TRISTAN

S everal days passed with Tristan and Dianna falling into a comfortable routine. She'd come for the morning therapy, then they'd shift gears for the afternoon tutoring. Following that, they'd eat dinner together and then spend time in the cabin drawing, reading, or watching a movie.

He almost couldn't remember what his life had been like before he'd met her. Happiness was the biggest addition. Mathew seemed calmer and at ease. He was even willing to speak to people he hadn't been willing to before.

It had started with Shane, then one of the girls who worked at the country club. Then it snowballed from there. Tristan couldn't put his finger on it. There was something different about his son.

Mathew was happy.

That's what it was.

His son had found his place surrounded by the horses and the woods. Dianna probably had a lot to do with it too.

Since they planned on staying for the holiday, Tristan had done his Christmas shopping online. Dianna helped him wrap the presents. Everything was coming together for the season and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. He and Mathew had always loved Christmastime and celebrating the birth of Jesus. And this year seemed extra special.

The weekend before Christmas, Mathew convinced them to go to town. Dianna had told him about the Christmas festival they held every year. There was a festival of trees, booths for people to sell last-minute Christmas presents, and the bakery made the best hot chocolate.

But the thing that Mathew wanted to do the most was go ice-skating.

Tristan held Dianna's hand as they wandered between the booths of homemade gifts. Mathew ran ahead to a table that had wooden slingshots, pocketknives, and various camping instruments. He picked up a knife, his eyes growing wide.

Tristan laughed and plucked the knife from his son's hand. "You need to be a little older for that one."

Mathew frowned. "But other kids?—"

"You're not like other kids." He grimaced. That came out wrong. But it was too late. Mathew's features darkened and his cheeks turned red.

"You think I'm dumb."

"I never said that."

"But that's what you thought." Mathew folded his arms, his focus shifting from Tristan to Dianna. "Dianna would let me get one. Wouldn't you?"

She glanced at Tristan. "Actually, I think your father made a good point when he said you need to be a little older."

The shock on Mathew's face was just as volatile as the glower he'd given to his father. "I thought you liked me."

Dianna stiffened, then dropped lower as if making eye contact with him on his level would help. "I do like you. That doesn't have anything to do with your dad's decision. A knife is a weapon. There's a lot of responsibility involved with owning one."

"You think I'm dumb too," he accused. "It's because I'm different. That's not fair. Other kids my age get to have one."

Tristan chuckled, but it was laced with irritation. "I highly doubt that."

"It's true!" Mathew folded his arms, his voice getting louder. "I want a pocketknife."

Dianna released Tristan's hand. "Maybe you should look at the slingshot. That looks like a fun one, and we can practice shooting it out at the club."

"I don't want a slingshot. I want that pocketknife." The tension continued to grow. Now they were getting more than a few concerned stares in their direction.

The back of Tristan's neck flushed with heat and he stepped closer to Mathew, lowering his voice so only his son and maybe Dianna could hear. "You might not like it, but you aren't old enough yet to own a knife. It's not safe for you to have something like that. It's not my job to be your friend. My job is to keep you safe."

"You're only saying no because Miss Dianna said no."

Tristan scoffed. "I said no first. And it doesn't matter what Dianna says. You're my son, and I make the rules."

Mathew knocked a few things off the table and took off running. Tristan stared dumbfounded after his son, then shot a concerned look toward Dianna as she gathered the items that had been dropped to the ground. "I'm going to get him. I'll meet you at the ice-skating rink."

She nodded but didn't say anything. He muttered an apology to the vendor and chased after Mathew, his fury building with each step.

When he caught up, he yanked his son into a sitting position on the curb. "What in heaven's name was that?"

Mathew still scowled at him. "What?"

"We were getting along so well. What happened?"

His son looked away. "I want that pocketknife."

"Yes, I understand that. But that's no excuse for how you behaved. You can't act like that in public."

Mathew let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

"Try again."

He groaned. " What ?"

"An apology would be a good start."

"Why? You didn't say sorry."

Tristan dragged a hand down his face. "What did I do that requires an apology? I didn't make a scene and drop someone's belongings on the ground."

Mathew's eyes darted in his direction, then away. His voice softened. "You hurt my feelings."

Tristan let out a puff of air he'd been holding in his chest. He had a feeling that's what this was about. Carefully, he settled down to sit on the curb beside Mathew. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"I don't believe you."

"I didn't say you had to." He rested his elbows on his knees and peered up at the bright blue sky in order to gather his thoughts. One wrong statement could have his son running off again. "What I meant to say was that we have different rules in our family. If you were capable of showing the maturity required to own that knife, then I would have been happy to get one for you. But there are sometimes when you don't know how to control your emotions. People who get easily angry or upset need to learn how to regulate those emotions before they can own something like a knife."

Mathew didn't say anything. He still stared at the road in front of them, the frown on his face deepening. "That's not fair ."

"I'm sorry, kiddo. Life isn't supposed to be fair." This wasn't the first time he'd said that, and like all the other times, Mathew made a face. "Come on, let's get back to Dianna. I'm sure she's worried about you."

Mathew continued to glare into the pavement.

"Mathew, I said let's go."

"I don't want to."

Tristan let out a sigh. So much for a good thing. It had been ridiculous to even think that things had changed for good. Of course Mathew would have regressions. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be until they were done with the therapy sessions here. He clasped his hands in front of him and peered down the street that had been blocked from traffic for the weekend. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Mathew didn't respond.

"It's about Dianna and me."

This got a small reaction, though his son didn't meet his gaze. He shifted and his features softened a little.

"I love her."

Now, he looked up. "You do?"

"I do. And one day, I'd like to marry her."

Mathew's eyes rounded.

"But I wanted to see what you thought about it first."

He turned his focus back to the road. "Would she be my new mom?"

"Not if you didn't want it. But I'm sure if she said yes to marrying me, she'd like to be." Tristan couldn't get a read on him. In the beginning, Mathew had wanted Dianna to be part of the family. This outburst was the first time he'd shown any adverse reaction to Dianna. That was to be expected at some point. Eventually, the newness would wear off and Mathew would realize that Dianna would still have certain expectations whether or not she was in his life in a motherly capacity. Tristan glanced at Mathew once more. "If I asked her to marry me and she said yes, you're old enough to decide if you'd call her ‘mom.'"

Mathew's brows were drawn together as if this decision would make or break the rest of his life. "I don't know."

"You don't have to know yet. I just wanted to tell you what I was thinking about."

"Okay."

"What do you say? Should we go find Dianna now?"

Mathew nodded. "I still want that knife."

Tristan chuckled. "I know. You'll get one, eventually, when you've been able to show you can handle it."

"That's going to be forever."

He ruffled Mathew's hair. "Sometimes it sure seems that way."