Chapter 87 Tristan

• Tristan
• The gravel crunches beneath my car tires as I pull up to the gate of the Fisher’s ranch, my heart pounding with pain and anger. My all-black get-up mirrors how I feel—gloomy and unhappy. The sun isn’t out, and the clouds seem to be holding onto unshed rain.
• The gate buzzes open, and I drive in. I park in front of the main house and sit in the car for a minute. The smell of booze hangs in the car, and a glimpse in the rear mirror reveals two empty whiskey bottles.