40. Tristan Is Gone
CHAPTER 40
TRISTAN IS GONE
Paloma
I wake up with a startle, heart beating fast. Tristan is gone, and I can’t help but feel empty inside. As if last night had only been a dream. But it can’t be. I’m in his bed again. As impossible as it all feels, I’m really here. But something feels off. Why is he gone if he promised to stay with me?
The clock over the mantle says it’s past one in the morning, which means I only slept a couple of hours. I pad to the bathroom to find some clothes. I don a pair of jeans, silky top, and sneakers. I need to find him and make sure that the hole I feel in my chest means nothing. Tristan is alive. He loves me. He wants to be with me always. A smile pulls at my lips as I open the door to the bedroom and head downstairs.
In the living room, I find Gardenia and Jacob arguing. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Well, that answers your question.” Gardenia cocks an eyebrow at Jacob. “She’s coming with us.”
“Fine.” Jacob turns to me. “We…” he hesitates.
“We’re going after Tristan.” Gardenia cuts him off. “He might be in trouble.”
“What? Why? What happened?” I step toward them.
“Not here.” Jacob points toward the door. “We’ll talk in the car.”
My heart drums in my throat as I follow them out the front door and toward the garage. I pause when they both climb inside Tristan’s Sports Audi. That’s the car I drove to the Hamptons all those months ago. In an instant, Tristan’s body lying on the side of the road flashes in my mind. I shake my head to clear it.
“Get in. We don’t have time to just stand around,” Gardenia says before she slams the car door.
I do as she says and hop in the back seat. My stomach feels like I swallowed an anvil. If Tristan is hurt again….
“Where are we going? Where’s Tristan?” I ask them.
“He went to settle the score with the Senator.” Jacob presses the ignition and pulls out of the garage. “He’s at your house.”
“No.” I place a hand over my mouth. “How long ago was that?”
“An hour.” Gardenia shifts her body to look at me. “We all had agreed he would not go after the Senator alone. But he’s so fucking stubborn. I only found out he was gone because Mary Jane came to tell me that Freya went after him.”
“Did you try calling him?” I ask, looking out the window to gauge how close we are to the house.
“I did. But of course, he’s not answering.” Gardenia grabs her phone off the middle console and tries again. “I mean, for all we know he’s not even at the Senator’s mansion. Fuck.”
I hug my stomach doing my best not to panic. Tristan looks like he’s back to normal, but I can’t forget that a few months ago, he was in a coma. According to what he told me, his back was so bruised and swollen, he couldn’t even walk.
He can’t seriously think he can take on all of Dad’s bodyguards. I should’ve known he was planning something. He had a plan when he took me up to his room and had round after round of sex with me. He wanted me tired and sleepy, so I wouldn’t notice him leaving in the middle of the night.
“Where else would the Senator be if he’s not home?” Jacob meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “We need a backup plan in case he’s not there.”
“I don’t know. The Hamptons, maybe?” I try to think where Dad would go if he was looking for me.
In the end, all our doubts are put to rest the minute we turn onto the quarter-of-a-mile driveway that leads to the front of the house. The ambulance lights flash red and blue as we pull up to the front door. Tears stream down my cheeks while I grip the back of the front seat, ready to bolt. As soon as the car comes to a stop, I throw myself out of the car.
I count at least ten people in paramedic uniforms. I scan the many faces, trying to figure out who I can ask what happened. But then, I see a gurney with a black body bag on top rolling out the front door, and I stumble forward. The gravel pricks my hands and knees, but I can’t make myself get up to find out who’s dead.
“Paloma.” Gardenia helps me up to my feet. “It’s not him.”
Tears blur my vision, but somehow, I make my way to the paramedic pulling the gurney. “I live here. What happened?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. But we do have a few people wounded.” The woman answers with eyes full of pity. “Would you be able to identify the body?” she asks.
I nod and brace myself. For a moment, my gaze cuts to the foyer beyond the wooden doors, but all I see is more staff and cops.
The paramedic finally unzips the bag and shows me a face I know well. “Hunter,” I murmur. “He’s gone?”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “What’s his full name?”
“Hunter DuPont,” I say with an empty feeling crushing my chest as I stare at the face of the man I thought I loved for years. He looks like he’s sleeping, all the creases around his eyes and forehead gone. Hunter is gone.
“Okay. The police will be with you shortly to take a statement, okay?” the paramedic says.
I’m about to say yes, when Tristan crosses the threshold holding Freya’s hand while she’s being wheeled out. She’s unconscious, but at least, she’s alive. Fisher is on the other side of the gurney telling Freya everything is going to be fine even though she’s already bled through her clothes and the covers the paramedic is using to put pressure on the wound. Both Tristan and Fisher are also covered in blood. The stench of it assaults my nostrils, and it’s all I can do to keep my dinner down.
“Tristan.” I wrap my arms around his waist.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His tone is angry, but the way he hugs me tight tells me he’s happy to see me.
“I woke up and you were gone. What happened?” I glance up at him as he lets go of Freya’s hand.
“I don’t know. Mom showed up with Hunter. He shot her. That fucking asshole shot her.” His eyes are red from crying.
“Tristan.” I slip my hand through his fingers. “Hunter is dead.”
“Jesus.” He glances over his shoulder. “I can’t think about that right now. We need to get Mom to the hospital.” He releases me, rushes to the back of the ambulance, and climbs in.
The sirens blare, making my ears pop. I stand there and watch the psychedelic colors illuminate the dark driveway until they’re gone. I turn around to find Gardenia in tears clinging to Jacob.
“We have to go,” I tell them.
After a beat, Jacob lets go of Gardenia and ushers her back to the car. I climb in again, hoping against hope that Freya makes it through this. Tristan doesn’t deserve to lose his mom after all he’s been through. And Freya, she has lived in fear for the last twenty years. She can’t die like this, at the hands of a selfish jerk like Hunter. It isn’t fair. Tristan doesn’t deserve this.
By the time we arrive at the hospital, the doctors have already taken Freya away to prep her for surgery. I have no idea how bad her bullet wound is. Judging by all the blood, it has to be bad. But if Tristan survived, maybe she can too.
“Tristan.” I cup his cheek. “How is she?”
“Going into surgery now. They don’t know how long it will be.” He releases a breath.
“Jesus.” Jacob walks in and offers Fisher a coffee. When he turns it down, he gives it to me. “It’s like déjà vu all over again.” He takes a long sip from his paper cup.
“She’ll make it.” Gardenia purses her lips, tears staining her cheeks. “Aunt Freya will pull through. I know it.” She crosses her arms over her chest as her gaze zeroes in on the nurses’ station. After a beat, she makes a bee line for it.
“Gardenia.” Fisher goes after her.
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” I bury my face in Tristan’s chest.
“It’s not your fault.” He holds me to him. “It’s mine.”
“Don’t say that. Hunter lost his mind.” I step back to look at him. “I don’t recognize him anymore.”
“He lost you. Of course he lost his mind.” He brushes the back of his fingers over my cheek. “Paloma.” My name on his lips sends a shock of dread through me. As if he’s about to say something that will destroy me. “I killed your father.”
“What?” I furrow my brows at him. “What are you talking about? Was Dad home just now?”
“I went to see him to end it once and for all. As long as he’s breathing, we won’t have peace.” His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes darken. “I shot him. He was unconscious when the paramedics arrived. I think he was still breathing, but I’m not sure.”
I stare at him, feeling a vast emptiness in my chest. “You killed him?”
“Do you hate me?” He meets my gaze.
“Where is he?” I scan the faces and then it hits me. I left the house and didn’t even bother to ask if Dad was okay. He could be dead right now. “Where is Dad?”
“They don’t know.” Fisher strides toward us, while Gardenia stays back at the nurses’ station arguing with them about something I can’t quite catch. Fisher blows out a breath. “He never made it to this hospital.”
“Is there a private clinic where the paramedics would know to take him?” Tristan asks, pursing his lips.
Is he even sorry he shot Dad? Right now, all he’s worried about is that Dad isn’t here dying like he’s supposed to. I wipe my cheeks. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, if he’s not here, then where the hell did he go?” Gardenia ambles to her dad, seemingly as put out as the rest of the group. “Two ambulances made it back. Hunter and Freya are here. But no senator. What does that mean?”
“Fuck.” Jacob’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “He has a lot of enemies. Maybe he’s here under a different name. I mean, do we care? What are his chances of surviving? How bad was he?”
“I shot him in the throat.” Tristan runs a hand through his hair. “His chances are slim. But not zero.”
“Dad.” I cry into my hand. “I have to find him. He could die.”
“Really?” Gardenia rolls her eyes. “After all he’s done to you, you care about him?”
“He’s my dad. I don’t condone what he’s done. But he’s still my dad.” I say the words and immediately realize, I don’t mean them. I feel like crying, but I’m not sure I’m crying for him. “I don’t know. It seems cruel to just let him disappear.”
“A fake death would surely solve all his problems.” Tristan stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Now that he knows I’m alive, he has to know that his life as he knows it is over. He has nothing left. Once he steps down from his senate seat, he’ll be facing jail time.”
My hands turn cold at the idea of Dad in jail. Dad may not have Tristan’s fortune, but he has powerful friends and influence. I lift my head to look at Tristan. “You’re not going to give up on this until he’s dead or in jail, are you?”
“Are you going to stand there and ask me to forgive him?” Tristan prowls toward me. “My mother has lived in fear of him for the last twenty years. Now she’s in a hospital dying. Your father doesn’t deserve my forgiveness. He doesn’t deserve anything.” The cold in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
A part of me knows he’s right. But I must admit, that a small part of me feels sorry for Dad. Even if Dad has shown me that he doesn’t feel a smidgen of remorse, I can’t help but hope that if he survives this, he might repent someday. I see him for what he is, but I don’t wish him dead.
“I don’t want him to die,” I murmur.
“Your devotion is misplaced,” Tristan says through gritted teeth.
He studies my face for a long minute. And I know that something just broke between us. I don’t see hate in his eyes, but the love he showed me when he barged into my room earlier tonight seems to be shadowed by the dark clouds storming in his eyes.
“Tristan.” I start to say just as the doctor calls his name.
“Mr. Archer,” she says solemnly.
“How is she?” Tristan’s gaze cuts away from me. “Can I see her now?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Archer. We did everything we could.” The doctor looks at him with eyes full of pity. “The bullet didn’t make a clean exit. She lost too much blood; her heart gave out.”
I place a hand over my mouth to stifle my cry. Freya is gone. I turn to Tristan, but he puts up his hands like a shield staring at me with blank eyes as he tries to catch up with what his brain already knows. His mom, the only parent he has left, is dead. And, once again, my father is to blame.
With wet eyes, he places his hands behind his head and hunches over. The scream that escapes Tristan lips is the most painful cry I’ve ever heard. I want to hug him and tell him I love him. But he’s in too much pain.
“Tristan, I’m sorry.” I lift my gaze to meet his. “I’m so sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault, Paloma.” Tears pelt down his cheek. “It’s mine. I did this to her. And you. And everyone in this room.” He stumbles back until he’s leaning on the wall, shoulders slumped. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I did this,” he murmurs.
After a beat, he lifts his head to say to the doctor, “I want to see her.”
“Of course. This way.” She gestures to the left of the long hallway.
He follows her, while the realization that everyone here lost someone important to them washes over me. “I’m so sorry,” I say to the group.
“Go home, Paloma.” Gardenia wipes her cheeks then turns to look at Jacob. He reaches into his jeans pocket and retrieves the Audi key fob. Gardenia takes it and tosses it to me. “Just go home and let us grieve in peace.”
* * *
A week later, I wake up in my room alone, missing Tristan with all my being. I have a phone now, but I decided not to call him. He needs time and space to grieve his mom. When I thought he was dead, I spent three months trying to be human again, but I never quite got there. I don’t how I’m going to go on like this, waiting for him to get over something I know is impossible to overcome.
I have a day off from practice today, so I take my time getting ready before I go downstairs for breakfast. It’s odd to be home without Dad, not knowing where he is or if he’s even alive. I’ve tried reaching out to his friends, but they claim not to know anything about Dad getting shot or being in the hospital. Dad disappeared without a trace.
How does a public figure go missing and no one is raising concerns? I even tried calling the police. They said they would investigate it, but then, when I called again to get the status on the investigation, they acted as if they didn’t know what I was talking about.
I keep telling myself that his disappearance is a good thing. At least now, I’m not his prisoner anymore. And I don’t have to pretend that everything is okay with him and Hunter. I’m finally free of him and his influence. Yeah, it’s going to take some time to get used to being on my own. But I know that whatever comes, I will be able to handle it.
I’m still deep in thought when I notice the shift in the air, the raw energy sizzling around me. The adrenaline rush is so intense, I stop halfway down the stairs to get a hold of myself. And then, I see him. He’s impossibly beautiful. When his intense blue gaze meets mine, all the walls I’ve put up since the last time I saw him come crushing down. I don’t care if he needs more time to grieve. I need him.
“Tristan.” I rush down the stairs, across the foyer, and throw my arms around his neck.
My body molds to his perfectly as he takes me into his embrace. Precious oxygen fills my lungs, and I feel alive again. His heart thumps against my body, making me ache for him, more than I’ve ever had. A sound like a growl escapes his lips. He missed me. I know he did. Our souls are so entwined; it hurts to be apart.
“Paloma.” He pulls away first, frowning at the floor before he lifts his head to look at me. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” I smile at him; my body is still tingling from his body heat and the sensation of being near him. “I missed you.”
“I came to say goodbye,” he blurts out. “My family and I, we’re taking mom’s ashes back to the UK. We leave tonight.”
“Okay.” I make a quick mental note of what I would need to pack to be ready for tonight. “I can be ready. Um, I can call Pierre and tell him I’ll be gone for a week or so.”
“Paloma. No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not coming back.”
“Um, well. I…that’s okay. I don’t care. I don’t have to dance. I’ll tell Pierre that I’m done.” Tears pool in my eyes as I measure the distance between us. I’m losing him.
When he speaks again, he takes another step back. “I thought I could protect you. But I only made things worse.And not just for you, but for my family too.”
His family? Am I not included in that circle? Not too long ago, he said I was part of his family too. His words cut me like a knife. Because even if my brain hasn’t caught on yet, my heart has. He’s leaving me. Worst of all, he’s convinced himself he’s doing it for my own good. How is being apart from him good for me? I need him like I need air.
“Tristan,” I beg. “Don’t do this. I just got you back.”
“I’m not what you need. I warned you. From the very beginning, I warned you to stay away from me. I am exactly the monster you think I am.” He winces as if he’s in terrible pain. “I wanted to give you this in person.” He hands me a manila envelope. “It’s the deed to this house.”
“I don’t want anything from you. Take it back. I don’t want it. I want you. Just you.” I let the tears flow freely. “Tristan, please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I don’t think I can survive your absence again.” I swallow the lump stuck in my throat. “Please. I love you.”
“I don’t deserve your love.” He shakes his head, his eyes red with unshed tears. “It’s better this way. I promise you. In time, you will see I’m right. No one else will die because of me.”
I open my mouth to beg again, but I can’t find the words. He takes a step toward me but then shuffles back. I stand there and watch him walk out of my life for good. I want to chase after him, but my body feels heavy. All the air has left my lungs, and I can’t breathe. My knees hit the floor, and I welcome the pain.
Somewhere, on the other side of the room, my screams echo, and it’s as if my soul has left my body and I’m glaring at myself from above. I look pathetic in my pain. Sobbing, I press my cheek to the cold marble and bring my knees up into my chest. His words play in my head over and over.
I’m not coming back. I’m exactly the monster you think I am. It’s better this way.
And finally, it hits me with all the force of a devastating firestorm. The realization burns through me as every fiber in my body understands the one fact.
Tristan is gone.