Chapter Five
“All right, Nightlight,” Tristan said, stretching his neck. “We need a game before I start counting pine trees for entertainment.”
The van hummed beneath us, the steady thrum of rubber against asphalt acting like a lullaby for the restless. Afternoon light flickered through the windshield in gold-and-green bursts as we wound through the mountain roads, the radio crooning something soft and familiar.
We’d run out of coffee an hour ago and conversation had fizzled into a comfortable silence. Tristan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing my way with a restless energy that usually meant trouble.
“Oh no,” I said, already suspicious. “If this involves singing, I’m vetoing it. My One Week performance was my peak.”
“Not singing. License plate game. But with a twist.”
“Of course.” I leaned back against the seat. “You’ve invented it, haven’t you?”
“Yup. The rules are simple. You take the letters off a plate and turn them into a slogan. Like a life motto. Bonus points if it sounds deep.”
“That’s dangerously close to therapy.”
“Then you’ll be amazing at it.” He shot me the type of grin that had probably gotten him out of countless detentions in high school.
We passed a mud-splattered pickup with a dented plate: NBD 123.
I squinted. “Okay, fine. Not Backing Down.”
“Strong start,” he said. “Very Anna versus the universe.”
“Your turn.”
“RIG 847.” He pretended to ponder deeply. “Real Investigation Guru.” A laugh followed his wild slogan.
“That was the best you could do with that?”
“Okay, smarty pants, what did you come up with?”
The words breezed out without thinking. “Remarkably Intense Guy.”
“Intense, eh?” His eyebrow arched slightly.
I pretended to examine my nails, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck and clawing at the bottoms of my cheeks. “Just reading the signs, Tristan.”
He chuckled; a low, easy sound that filled the van more warmly than the weak heater. Outside, the highway curved, and sunlight spilled across his profile; strong nose, the line of stubble shading his jaw, and the faint smile proclaiming he was enjoying this far too much.
Another car, a shiny blue hybrid with a pristine plate: FTO 066, zoomed by in the fast lane.
“Figuring Things Out,” he said, smug and sure, as if he’d been waiting for those letters to appear. “Applies to me in... well, most things.”
“You? No way.” I shook my head, a small laugh escaping. “You’ve built a business, driven halfway across Canada, and saved a child’s stuffed bear.” I added with a tip of my head in his direction. “You’re clearly thriving.”
He shrugged and kept his eyes fixed on the road. “Still learning, I guess.”
Something in his tone softened, it was less teasing, more truth and it completely caught me off guard. I wanted to say something comforting, something clever, but all that came out was a quiet, “Well, you’re in good company.”
He glanced at me, and this time it wasn’t casual.
His eyebrows drew together slightly, a faint crease at the bridge of his nose, and his stormy blue eyes sharpened as if trying to read the unspoken words I hadn’t meant to reveal.
His lips pressed into a thin line for a heartbeat before curling into the faintest, almost apologetic smile.
I felt it—an unspoken hold on, I’m here—and my pulse picked up.
Breaking the look, I scanned the highway before us, spotting the next plate in our game; a weather-worn station wagon with one taillight held by duct tape: HOP 219. “Hope On Pause.”
His hands tightened slightly on the wheel.
I gave a tiny laugh, more air than sound, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Didn’t mean for that to come out bleak.”
The van’s hum filled the silence, steady and rhythmic. The faint buzz of the rubber changed pitch as the pavement smoothed.
Finally, he said, “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”
My throat tightened as I forced a smile and avoided eye contact. “Okay, philosopher. Let’s lighten this up before we spiral into a self-help podcast. Give me something cheerful.”
His eyes darted ahead. “JFD 744. Just Freakin’ Dance.”
Tipping my head back, a genuine laugh bubbled out. “That’s... surprisingly optimistic.”
“Maybe I’m evolving.”
“Into what, exactly?”
He grinned. “A man who tries not to take everything so seriously.”
A silence stretched again, but it wasn’t awkward this time. It was... warm.
I spotted the next car ahead, an ancient green sedan with a plate barely hanging on by one bolt: TGA 015. It was too easy to slogan that plate.
“Oh look,” I said, pointing. “The Great Adventure. Very on brand.”
He tilted his head toward me, eyes gleaming. “Yeah... that one might actually stick.”
I smiled into the window’s reflection, watching mountains blur by like brushstrokes. “The game?”
He shook his head, slightly. “The adventure.”
And for a heartbeat, the air in the van changed into something electric, and all together too real.
Outside, the road stretched endlessly forward, sunlight splintering through the trees, and for the first time since the trip began, I realized how much I didn’t want the journey to end.
* * *
We pulled into a roadside stop; a humble mix of gas pumps, a few neglected vending machines with names of snacks I didn’t recognize, and according to the sign swinging over the door – the best little bakery around.
The imagined smell of fresh coffee hit me as soon as the van doors opened, mingling with the crisp mountain air.
Tristan killed the engine with a flourish that made it seem like he’d landed a fighter jet instead of a glorified minivan.
“Snack break,” he announced, swinging the door open. “You know, survival of the fittest requires proper provisions.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Survival of the fittest? Or survival of the most hyped-up coffee drinker?”
He paused mid-step before striding ahead of me toward the bakeshop convenience store. “Hey, a caffeinated mind is a sharp mind. You should know; you’re a nurse.”
I snorted. “Sometimes coffee is the difference between someone fainting over your bad jokes and someone actually fainting.”
He tilted his head, watching me from the corner of his eye. “Bad jokes? You mean the ones you laughed at anyway?”
“I didn’t laugh at all,” I deadpanned, though my mouth betrayed me with a twitch.
“For a roadside stop, they have amazing apple turn overs. Still a favourite, right?”
He remembered things no one else bothered to. Which was dangerous, because affection built itself out of small details not grand gestures.
And I’d already survived one love that crumbled. No encore.
Slowly nodding at his incredible memory of my likes, we grabbed a couple of the so-called famous pastries, two beaver tails, and a pair of bottled waters. Tristan added a protein bar and a chocolate square, inspecting both as if they were fine wine.
We stepped outside, the sun slanting down across the mountains, turning the peaks into gold-tipped giants. The cool breeze brushed across my face, and for a second, the silence between us thickened, almost daring one of us to speak first.
I bit into the flaky croissant with a hint of cinnamon and a dabble of baked apples as the warm, buttery layers crumbled in my fingers. They were acceptable – for a roadside store – but my Allie had made these to melt in your mouth. And the flavour was unmatched.
Suddenly I had a craving for her homemade baking and a dull ache formed in my gut thinking about her.
“Mr. Moose.” I grabbed our mascot from the van and propped him on a few staggered rocks, snapping away like I was a prolific photographer. It was so ridiculous, yet important, and I couldn’t help wondering what the kids would think.
A little ding came from my phone. I glanced down. Tina.
My stomach sank.
I answered quickly, turning away from Tristan. “Hey, Tina. Everything okay?”
“Oh, Anna! You’re not going to believe it!
” Her voice practically bounced through the line.
“We’re getting back together! Can you imagine?
After that ridiculous fight, he had a...
a moment of clarity. I know it sounds insane, but he showed up at work with flowers and a speech about how he’d been a fool—so... we’re giving it another go!”
I chewed my lip, distracted. “Wow... that’s... that’s really great, Tina.”
“I just wasn’t ready for it to be truly over, and the fact that he apologised, well, I believe him. I want us to be together. I can’t imagine my life without him.” Her energy was intense, even over the phone.
I exhaled slowly, side eyeing the van as I walked further away. “So what are you doing over the weekend?”
“Actually, he’s just checking us into the Fairmont Waterfront. It was a total surprise. A full weekend of pampering.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.” My spine sagged. As adorable as that was, now what? I was on my way to pleasantly shock her.
“Right? You know how I love surprises.”
“Yes, I do.” And this surprise would’ve been on me. Had the airline strike not happened, I’d be knocking on her vacated door.
“Hey, I gotta go. He’s on his way back, dangling the room key. I’ll call you later.”
“Have all the fun.”
“Thanks, I will. Don’t work too hard.”
“I promise I won’t.”
I hung up, my stomach twisting. I hadn’t planned for this. My carefully laid surprise—holding her, comforting her, finally being there—was now... complicated. Pocketing my phone, I inhaled and ran through possible options.
Tristan leaned against the van, tilting his head. “Everything okay?”
As I walked over, I rolled the left side of my bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s... news. Good news. But it’s... confusing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Confusing?”
I shrugged, feeling exposed. “Tina... she’s getting back together with her husband. Completely caught me off guard.”
He nodded thoughtfully, and bit off a chunk of his protein bar. “So, what’s the dilemma? You keep going to Victoria and risk spoiling the surprise or turn around?”
“Well, she won’t even be there. Surprise,” I said, shrugging.
“They’re having a spa weekend in Vancouver so I’m not sure what to do.
I suppose I could go home, however, that would be unexpected for my kids.
” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I guess you could drop me off at the next major town and I can bus it back.”
“That might take a couple of days.”
“Perfect as then it won’t ruin my kids’ weekend.” A weak smile surfaced. There was no point in having them change their plans. I was gone for the weekend and they had the place to themselves. I couldn’t undo any plans they’d been hoping for.
He leaned a little closer, voice calm. “You know, if you really wanted to, it’d be easier to catch a flight home from Vancouver or Victoria than trying to take the bus back. Less stress, fewer connections. Or ... you still show up for when she’s expected back.”
I chewed on that, absently nibbling a corner of my Nutella-infused beavertail. “Yeah... I guess. But it feels... wrong. Like I’d be arriving to an event that’s already... over.”
Tristan gave a small, reassuring smile and pulled himself off the van. “Anna, surprises are never wasted. Even if it’s different than planned, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
I forced a laugh. “You’re remarkably optimistic for someone who spends his days delivering wine to tiny towns.”
Shrugging, he kicked a pebble. “Or, and I’m just throwing this out there.” He inhaled heavily and stepped closer. “Spend the weekend with me.”
I froze. Forget heart flutters, I needed to see a cardiologist as my heart actually skipped a beat.
“Deliver the wines with me on the way to the island and spend the night at the winery. I have a great guest room, by the way, with the best view of the vineyard.” His words practically tripped over themselves.
“In the morning, I take you to the airport and send you back home after you’ve had a chance to rest.”
I slow blinked, not fully hearing what he was saying.
“What? You’re a full-time mother and nurse, taking time to yourself probably ranks at the bottom of your list, am I right?”
Now I needed to see a neurologist too as my brain suddenly puddled.
“Anyway,” he stepped back half-heartedly and turned to the van. “It was just a thought. But I can drop you off at the airport in Vancouver too.”
Given the new option of spending more time with him, I struggled to process an answer and stared for way too long at his face, circling around his eyes, down his whiskered cheeks before I settled on his lips.
I needed to breathe, to not feel the pressure of such a weighted moment that I wanted to say yes to, even though it was nothing more than two old friends hanging out.
A gust of wind lifted a stray strand of hair across my cheek. He went to reach for it, hand hovering, but jerked it backwards like he’d remembered something. “Spider floating on the breeze,” he said casually, scratching the nape of his neck. “Fell on you in the chem lab once, remember?”
Shaking my head, I blinked away the cobwebs and formed intelligent words once again. “Yeah, I screamed. Loudly. Embarrassingly. You’re using that as a cover?”
That impossible grin that both irritated and unraveled me at the same time surfaced. “Still, I had to save you, didn’t I?”
I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t save me; you threw your shoe at it.” I recalled the memory of a small scream escaping him too. After all, it was a big spider.
“Heroism takes many forms.”
I tried to stay annoyed, but the laughter bubbling up was too genuine to fight. When it faded, what lingered wasn’t silence – it was awareness.
I had to stop. I have two kids waiting. Two lives that depend on me not losing my head over nostalgia and wine.
We wandered to the van, carrying the remainder of our snacks and bottles of water. The silence was lighter now, filled with unspoken admissions and teasing. The mountains stretched out behind us, endless and rugged; a kind of view that made you want to pause life altogether.
Tristan climbed into the driver’s seat, glancing at me. “Ready to see Three Valley Gap? There might be mystery bags involved. And I promise, none of them will bite.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You drive a winery van and you’re talking about mystery bags like it’s an adventure movie. I think I’m hooked.”
“So that’s a yes to making it to my winery?”
It wasn’t a road trip anymore. It was a detour; one I hadn’t allowed myself in years.
He smirked, starting the engine. “Buckle up, because the next stop is guaranteed to be... complicated.”
I swallowed hard, gripping my snack bag like a lifeline, and realized that maybe complicated wasn’t the thing I wanted to avoid after all.