That was true, they hadn’t. And a night at Tristan’s house actually sounded amazing.

“That sounds great,” I agreed quickly.

“You don’t have training or anything?” his voice dropped to a whisper.

Matching his tone I explained, “No, the missions I’ve been going on with Nate and Serena have taken the place of training. And besides, I can always meet up with them after, if they need me.”

Tristan’s jaw tightened and his neck muscles were suddenly bulging, but he nodded. “Well, I’ll let my mom now you’re coming then.”

“K.”

And then we parted ways…. awkwardly. I decided I wanted to talk to him about that tonight. There was a time in my life, not that long ago, where Tristan was my epicenter, where my entire world revolved around him and our relationship.

It just wasn’t like that anymore. And I didn’t know why. Maybe it was as simple as we were growing apart. Maybe it was more complex and I’d somehow jilted him by falling accidentally in love with Seth- the boy I couldn’t have anymore.

Maybe it was all him.

I wasn’t sure, but I needed to find out.

----

“Stella!” Tristan’s mom, Allison, greeted me as soon as I walked in the door. “It has been too long! Where have you been?”

I smiled under her over the top affection and greeted her with a hug. She squeezed me tightly to her and then kept her arm around me as she walked me inside her house.

Tristan’s house was a huge farmhouse that was done completely in comfort and easiness. I loved it over here. It was basically my second home. It always smelled like baking or delicious homemade somethings. It was crazy loud- all the time. And it was consistently messy.

Allison was a stay at home mom. But even with two boys already off to college she had a hard time keeping up with everyone. Tristan was the third child with two older brothers and three siblings younger, two brothers, one sister. And their names all start with a t and an r: Trader, Trenton, Tristan, Trevor, Troy and Truman.

The crazy thing was that Allison kept talking about wanting another baby.

Being an only child, and coming from a culture that rarely had more than one child per family, that was insanity to me. But it somehow worked for the Shields. And even in the chaos of their rowdy household, there was such a feeling of peace and acceptance that it was hard not to fall in love with all of them.

Tristan’s dad stepped out of his office and offered me a huge, welcoming smile. He was exactly what Tristan would look like one day- tall, athletic, dark, almost black hair kept short and manageable, with piercing green eyes that seemed to see deeper than surface level.

Allison didn’t let me get waylaid with his greeting though, she kept pulling me toward the kitchen where she was determined she would teach me how to cook. I promised her there was a defect in my genetic code, but she kept dismissing that as an excuse.

Allison and Brian were high school sweethearts that actually graduated from Mead. They both went off to college at the University of Lincoln, got married right out of college, and then moved back home to farm and raise their family. They were the poster children for small town living and they had quiet expectations that their children would all follow a similar path. They weren’t pushy about it, but anyone who knew the Shields could tell.

Trader and Trent had gone off to UNL on football scholarships without even questioning the family manifesto. But Tristan was having doubts, and I didn’t blame him there. It was easy to blame his parents for putting too much pressure on him to be like them, but as soon as I would walk into their house, I always questioned my disappointment with their confined expectations for their kids. This seemed so perfect to me, living like this, with homemade delicious dinners and all of my children crowding around a happy table. It was so idyllic. I had a hard time taking Tristan’s side when I compared it to my own, very empty future.

Even if Seth and I survived this current predicament, I would most likely live out my days childless. I was the Protector of Earth. Where other Stars could take a sabbatical off the battlefield for a few years to raise a child, I didn’t have that luxury. Serena was filling in now, but when I had all my powers, I was expected to do this job full time.

And there would be no warm house or full table to sit down to. I would be spending the rest of my life in hiding. With or without Seth, it was going to be a lonely life.

I hadn’t really thought how lonely until now.

One day I would have to give up Tristan and his crazy family. One day I’d have to walk away from these beautiful people to keep them safe. And away from Piper. And my parents.

I’d already lost Seth- for now.

But seriously, how much more would I have to give up in order to do my job properly?

And in the end would I feel like I’d lost my soul too?

I shook my head and tuned back into Allison who was asking me to whisk her gravy. She must have had a very long day. While there were things where she demanded my help, her famous gravy was not typically one of them.

But then she disappeared.

I watched her retreating back sprint up the staircase; my mouth dropped open. I looked from the stairs to the gravy, back to the stairs and back to the gravy.

“How did this happen to me?” I demanded to the empty kitchen.

“You have got to learn to put your foot down, Stel,” Tristan chided me from the doorway. He had already showered and changed clothes. “She is going to continue to walk all over you until you stand up for yourself.”

“Easy for you to say; she’s your mom. I can’t stand up to her. I’m not physically capable.” I inhaled his freshly showered smell and tingles erupted in the lower part of my belly.

It was nice of him to invite me over for dinner; but seriously, couldn’t we have suffered through our sweaty practice clothes and dinner together?

Those thoughts fled my mind as soon as I turned around to face him. His jeans were slung low on his waist and his t-shirt seemed just a teensy bit too small, but somehow he still made it work. More than work. Probably it was his flat stomach and unfair six pack. His shortly buzzed hair was still glistening with water remnants and he was barefoot.

All that combined together made the most delicious picture of him I’d ever seen; I was even more confused with what to do.

What was it about boys and being barefoot that got to me?

Possibly, I had a weird foot fetish.

“Need help?” he offered.

“Yep,” I grinned at him. When he walked over to see why, I handed him the metal whisk, slapped him on the back and shot him a wink. “I’m hoping you have better luck than me.”

Then I disappeared back to the long table in the center of the room that somehow fit eight to ten people at it, depending on the night, and which of her children’s friends Allison had invited over to dinner.

I picked a crouton out of the salad bowl and watched Tristan work his gravy magic. Tristan half-turned around to talk to me while he whisked away at the gloppy mess I’d managed to make in under fifteen seconds. But Truman walked through the door before he got a chance to say anything.

I smiled at Tru and waved at her to sit down. She was gorgeous in her ten-year-old glory. Her hair was cut in a short bob that framed her cute face, and her eyes were a bright blue that matched her mom’s shade more than her dad’s. Her nose was also a replica of her mom, which was good for her because a Shields man had a very prominent nose that would have done her delicate face a complete injustice. And she had the prettiest full lips I’d ever seen.

Tristan had the same ones.

“Stella!” She squealed at me.

“Tru!” I squealed back. I stood up and pulled her into a warm hug. Immediately I felt hot all over with affection. I loved this girl. And no matter what weirdness was happening outside my world, I didn’t want to neglect the people I cared about. I pulled her into a chair next to mine and then demanded, “Alright, give me all the gossip. What’s happening in the fourth grade?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “I’d much rather hear about the gossip in the eleventh grade.”

Pretending innocence, I looked shocked and said, “But there isn’t any gossip in the eleventh grade! We’re much too mature for that.”

Tristan snorted and Truman giggled. “That’s not what I heard,” she said with attitude.

“Oh no,” I groaned. “What have you heard?”

Allison walked in at that moment. She’d run a brush through her light brown hair and put on a little makeup. She’d also changed her shirt. She looked like a new woman. I was really impressed.

“Stella, I wanted you to make the gravy!” she whined when she saw her son hard at work and alone over the stove.

“Shh,” I shushed her on a laugh. “Truman’s about to spill all the good gossip.”

“Ooh,” Allison cooed. “I want to hear.” She slid into a chair across the table and propped her

chin in both hands and waited patiently for Truman to begin.

Gossip was definitely the favorite pastime of every single inhabitant of our six-hundred population town. We developed a thirst for it young, and it grew to be almost an obsession by the time you were popping out babies and tending to the house. Truman was on the cusp of middle school, just learning how fun it could be to sit around with your girlfriends and dish details. As long as it wasn’t done maliciously, it was also something her mom fully promoted and grilled her on every night. I couldn’t help but get into the excitement of it over here. My mom wasn’t exactly the gossiping kind, but I’d still picked up the bad habit. Allison and Truman were my fix.

Loving the attention, Truman began, “Well, word is there’s trouble in paradise with Piper

Cassidy and Lincoln Chase.” This was a big piece for Truman; I wondered how she had heard about it before me.

Allison gasped with the perfect amount of outrage, “Why? They’re so cute together.”

“I don’t know,” Tru shrugged. “All I know is that they are not a very happy couple. Or that’s what Becca Henry says anyway.”

Bree’s little sister. I should have known! But why did Bree know more than me?

“It’s probably because she’s such a b-b- bee sting,” Tristan commentated from the stove. His mother shot him a drilling glare before she returned her attention to Truman.

But Tru was looking at Tristan. “Why would you call her a bee sting? I think she’s nice.”

I rolled my eyes at Tristan’s creativity and stuck up for my other best friend, “She is nice. She’s my best friend. My real best friend.” I winked at Tru again and she giggled.

Tristan snorted again.

“Then you tell us what’s happening with Lincoln and her,” Allison pressed. Her eyes lit up with expectation and I felt the sting of disappointment hit my stomach.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” I admitted. “Last I knew they were happy. This is a surprise to me.”

“Well, maybe it’s not true then,” Allison offered sweetly.

“Maybe. Tristan, have you heard anything?”

“Oh yeah,” he groaned. “Lincoln’s calls me every night and talks to me for hours about it.”