Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
T ristan sat by her side, his presence calming her. “Sophie, sweetheart,” he took her delicate hand in his, “you have gotten so much better. How would you like to get out of the hospital?”
“Really?” Her eyes glimmered with excitement.
“I’ve spoken with Dr. Skylar and your family. We’d like to move you to the Blackwell Institute. They have the best facilities to help you recover fully.”
Sophie looked at him with a hint of apprehension, rocking slightly. “That’s your institute. Will James be there? Will you be there with me?” Her brows furrowed.
He smiled. “Every step of the way,” he promised, squeezing her hand lightly. “You won’t be alone.”
Sophie sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “What will happen there?” Her foot bounced.
Tristan took a deep breath. “We specialize in the kind of recovery you need,” he explained. “We have state-of-the-art equipment, experienced staff, and personalized care plans. We’ll start with a comprehensive assessment to understand exactly what you need.”
She could feel his warmth, his presence a solid comfort. Her thoughts were elsewhere, drifting in and out of the past. She looked at Tristan out of the corner of her eye. His profile, strong and familiar, stirred something deep within her—an emotion that was hard to pin down. Affection, definitely, but also something more complicated. There was a tenderness when she looked at him, a deep appreciation for the way he had been there for her, for the way he cared. But there was also a flicker of fear, a remnant of something she couldn’t quite shake.
Her mind wandered back to the first time she met him, the morning after he saved her from a predator, Damon Whitlock. She shuddered. And his hand was around hers.
She remembered the way Tristan’s smile had been a little shy, the way his eyes studied her as if he were trying to see past the surface. She remembered how he made her laugh, how he listened to her without judgment. Those memories were clear, bright snapshots of a time when things seemed simpler, easier. But as she tried to recall more, her thoughts became murky, like trying to see through a fog. There were gaps, moments that felt just out of reach.
She closed her eyes, and images flashed behind her eyelids. A different kind of warmth, a searing heat, the sound of a siren in the distance, the feeling of panic gripping her chest. Tristan’s voice, calm and steady, cutting through the chaos: “Sophie, stay with me.”
The flashbacks came in waves—unpredictable, disjointed. Sometimes it was the sound of his voice that triggered them; other times, it was the scent of his cologne, or the way he touched her arm. But no matter what brought them on, they always left her feeling off-balance, unsure of what was real and what was just her mind playing tricks on her.
Sophie opened her eyes, taking in a deep breath, trying to ground herself in the present. Tristan was still there, still solid and real. She felt his hand squeeze hers, but it sent a jolt through her. Her heart sped up, a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
Did he know? Could he sense the turmoil inside her? She wanted to reach out, to tell him everything—to confess that she was struggling, that she couldn’t always separate the past from the present. But the words caught in her throat. How could she explain that sometimes she felt like she was drowning in memories, that no matter how hard she tried to stay afloat, the undertow kept dragging her back?
And yet, despite it all, she knew she needed him. Tristan was her lifeline, the one person who could pull her back when the darkness threatened to swallow her whole. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around her, holding her close.
For a moment, everything else faded away—the memories, the flashbacks, the fear. All that mattered was that she was here, with him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Sophie closed her eyes again, this time letting herself relax into the warmth of his embrace, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be enough to keep the darkness at bay.
* * *
The ambulance ride to the Institute was uneventful, with Tristan’s thumb gently tracing soothing circles on her skin. He talked to her softly, distracting her from the anxiety of the journey.
The ambulance hummed steadily as it navigated the city streets. Inside, Sophie lay on the stretcher, her eyes occasionally drifting shut, lulled by the ride, but her rapid heartrate showed her fear.
“Sophie, can you hear me?” Tristan’s voice was a blend of anxiety and tenderness.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she nodded weakly. “Yes, I can hear you.”.
Tristan squeezed her hand gently. “You’re going to be okay.”
Sophie took a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Tristan. What if it’s not enough?”
His expression softened, and he leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers with a depth of concern that made her heart ache. “What if what’s not enough?”
“This,” Sophie whispered, her voice almost breaking. “Us. Everything you’re doing… what if it’s not enough to keep me… to keep me from falling apart?”
His fingers threaded through hers with a comforting squeeze. “Sophie, look at me.” He waited until her eyes met his again. “It will be enough. I promise you that.”
“But how do you know?” Her voice was laced with doubt. “I don’t even know if I’m strong enough for this… for us. What if I’m too broken?”
“You’re not broken.” Tristan’s gaze never wavered. “You’re hurt, yes, but you’re not broken. And you don’t have to be strong all the time. That’s why I’m here. We’re in this together.”
Sophie swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want you to have to carry my fears, along with everything else.”
“You’re not a burden, Sophie,” Tristan replied. “I care about you more than anything else. You don’t have to carry this alone. We’ll figure it out together, day by day. You just have to trust me.”
She hesitated, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was unwavering determination and something else—something deeper, a kind of love she wasn’t sure she deserved but desperately wanted to believe in.
“I’m trying. I really am. But what if… what if the darkness comes back? What if I can’t push it away?”
“Then I’ll be here to push it back with you,” Tristan said without hesitation. “You don’t have to face it alone. We’ll take it one step at a time, together.”
When a tear slipped down her cheek, he reached up to gently wipe it away. “You’re not alone, Sophie. You never have to be alone in this.”
His words were a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing some of the anxiety that was biting at her. She wanted to believe him, to hold on to his promise as if it could keep her safe from the shadows that lurked in her mind.
“Okay,” she whispered, “I’ll try. I’ll try to believe that we can do this… together.”
Tristan smiled, a small but genuine smile that made her heart swell. “That’s all I ask.”
Sophie nodded. “Together,” she echoed, holding on to his hand just a little tighter.
The paramedic looked over, offering a reassuring smile. “We’re almost there, just a few more minutes. Hang in there, Sophie.”
She closed her eyes, trying to draw strength from Tristan’s words. “I just want this to be over.” Opening them again, she swiped at her tears.
They were almost at the Blackwell Institute when Sophie’s gaze shifted to the rear window. Her eyes widened with sudden recognition as they passed a familiar house. “Tristan,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of confusion and yearning. “Isn’t that… isn’t that our home?”
Tristan glanced out the window, where the familiar outline of their house had come into view. “Yes,” he said softly, turning back to her. “That’s our home.”
A spark of clarity lit up Sophie’s eyes. “Can we go there?” Her voice trembled with hope. “I want to go home, Tristan. Please.”
He swallowed hard and rubbed his chest, then squeezed her hand gently. “Sophie, I know you want to go home,” he choked out, “but you can’t right now.”
Her face fell, confusion and hurt clouding her features. “Why not?” Desperation tinged her words. “I don’t understand.”
Tristan took a deep breath, and then another one. “Your brain and body need more time to recover,” he explained gently. “Our home… it doesn’t have what you need right now.”
Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes, and she shook her head. “But it’s our home,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “I just want to be there with you.”
Tristan’s Adam’s apple moved up and down at the sight of her tears. He leaned closer, cupping her face with his free hand. “I know, love,” he said softly. “I will be with you. Our home isn’t our home without you. Right now, the best thing for you is to be at the Institute. They’ll help you heal faster, and then we can go home together.”
Sophie’s shoulders sagged at his words. She looked down, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “It doesn’t feel fair,” she murmured.
* * *
Tristan’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to smile, brushing away her tears. “I know it doesn’t, but I promise you, this is just a temporary step. We’ll be back home before you know it. And until then, I’ll be right by your side.”
Sophie nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around his. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
His heart swelled with love and pride. “Thank you for understanding.” He pressed a kiss to her palm.
* * *
The ambulance hit a small bump, causing Sophie to wince as the restraints tightened around her. Tristan gripped her hand, his eyes filled with concern. “You okay?”
She nodded, though her face was etched with pain. “Just… a little sore.” She wouldn’t admit that she had a fleeting memory of falling down a flight of stairs. She rubbed her chest.
“We’ll be there soon,” the paramedic assured them, his tone professional yet kind. “You’re doing great, Sophie. Just hang on a little longer.” He pressed the monitor to print out some tape. Her heartbeat had grown irregular.
Tristan glanced at the paramedic, then back at Sophie. “You hear that? We’re almost there. Just a little more.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “I’ll try, Tristan. For you.”
“For us,” he corrected gently. “We’re a team, remember?”
She nodded, her grip on his hand tightening. “A team,” she echoed, drawing strength from the bond they shared.
“A few deep breaths,” he coached. He adjusted her nasal oxygen. As the ambulance neared its destination, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you, Sophie. More than anything.”
“I love you too, Tristan,” her voice trembled.
She wasn’t sure what that meant anymore. Once, it was a word filled with promise, a vision of a shared future, of safety. But now, in the shadow of her fears and the relentless flashbacks that haunted her, the meaning felt slippery, uncertain.
She wanted to believe in it, in the strength of their connection, but doubt ate at her. What if love wasn’t enough to keep the darkness at bay? What if she was too damaged to hold up her end of it? The fear of disappointing Tristan, of failing to live up to the trust he placed in her, haunted her. She wondered if she could ever truly feel safe again, if she could find her way back to the confidence she once had in their bond.
“Love” had once meant they could face anything, but now Sophie wasn’t sure if it was something she could still count on.
As the ambulance pulled up to the entrance of the Blackwell Institute, Tristan tightened his grip on Sophie’s hand. His eyes, a mix of worry and hope, never left her face.
“We're here,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be alright. These people are the best.”
Sophie managed a weak smile, but her eyes grew heavy with exhaustion.
The ambulance doors swung open, and a team of medical professionals appeared in front of them. At the front of the group was the only familiar face, Dr. Chris Skylar. The head of psychiatry for the Blackwell Institute wore a warm black sweater and jeans. “It’s cold out here, people. Let’s get Sophie inside.”
“Hi, Sophie, welcome.” The group moved her into the warm building.
Sophie looked around. She’d been inside the Blackwell Institute with Tristan. She asked him about the place he built on the ride. But she had no memory. She sniffed the air. It didn’t smell like a hospital. That somehow was reassuring.
Chris called to her, “Sophie, this is one of the staff psychiatrists, Dr. Ellen Boyle.”
“Welcome, Sophie,” Dr. Boyle said warmly, her eyes kind and reassuring. “We’re going to take great care of you here.”
Another woman came rushing down the corridor. Sophie noticed Tristan tense. His hand holding hers moistened.
The woman looked at Sophie. “I’m Dr. Birdham. You’re in good hands, Sophie. We’ve been preparing for your arrival, and we’re ready to get started on your treatment.”
“Dr. Birdham, let’s not overwhelm Sophie. You have other patients to see,” Chris said.
The woman’s face pinched like a fish.
Sophie pulled on Tristan’s hand. “We’re a team,” she whispered. Whatever was upsetting him passed as he smiled at her.
As the team escorted Sophie to a generic treatment room, she began to tremble. Tristan took a step closer.
“Tristan,” she whispered, “I’m scared.” Inside the room, her heartrate increased even more than in the ambulance.
He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. “I know, but you’re strong, and I’m right here.”
“Sophie, I’m Dr. Sam Harris. I’m like Tristan, one of the doctors who pokes and prods my patients. I promise I won’t do anything without your permission.” He looked at the monitor. “Honey, you’re in sinus tachycardia. Are you feeling any chest pain?”
Sophie shook. “This room, it’s scary.”
Tristan took her face between his palms. “Sweetheart, no one will hurt you in this room. Breathe with me.” He guided her through a set of breaths. Her heartrate only slowed a bit. Not enough to satisfy the two clinicians.
Dr. Boyle placed a gentle hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Tristan, why don’t you sit with Sophie while we run some initial tests? It’ll help her feel more at ease.”
Tristan nodded, grateful for the suggestion. He pulled up a chair beside Sophie’s bed and took her hand once more. “I’m right here,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Sam Harris and the head nurse of the ward where Sophie would be assigned, Matt, and a nursing assistant began their examination, speaking in low, soothing tones as they worked. Sophie winced slightly as they attached various monitors and checked her vitals.
“Just a little longer, Sophie,” Matt assured her. “We’re almost done. Tell me about your family.”
Matt had hit a positive mark. “There are five girls and my mom.”
“Oh wow, six girls. That must be a tough group,” he said.
Sophie smiled brightly. “Nobody messes with an Everhart and gets away with it.” As quickly as the words came out, her face fell.
Tristan squeezed her hand. “Trust me, beautiful.”
Sophie nodded, her grip on Tristan’s hand tightening. “I trust you,” she whispered, her eyes searching his face for reassurance.
Dr. Boyle stepped closer, her voice gentle and calming. “You’re doing great, Sophie. Just keep focusing on Tristan. He’s right here with you.”
Tristan leaned in, his forehead resting against Sophie’s. “You’re so brave. I’m so proud of you.”
Sophie nodded and managed a small smile.
Dr. Harris finished his examination and looked at her with a reassuring grin. “You did great, Sophie. Now, we’re going to get you settled into your room and start planning your treatment.”
Tristan stood up, still holding Sophie’s hand. “Thank you, everyone.”
Dr. Boyle nodded. “We’re here for both of you. Whatever you need, just let us know.”
* * *
As the team wheeled Sophie to her new room, Tristan walked beside her, never letting go of her hand. Once she was settled, he sat down again, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Tristan,” Sophie cocked her head, “I’m so scared. What if… what if it doesn’t work?”
He took a deep breath, his own fears bubbling to the surface. But he pushed them aside, focusing on the woman he loved. “We can’t think like that. We have to believe in this. Believe in the doctors and believe in us. You’re going to get through this.”
Sophie nodded, her eyes closing as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Together,” she whispered, her grip on his hand never wavering.
He kept his promise, staying close as the staff welcomed them and settled Sophie into her new room. They treated Tristan as if he were part of her family, not their boss.
Her new room was serene and conducive to healing. He had taken great care to make the room as comforting as possible. On one wall, a collage of photos adorned the space, snapshots of happier times, all chosen to trigger memories. Her laughter at the beach, her proud smile at her graduation, a few tender moments with Tristan. The wooden frames added a touch of warmth and familiarity to the room.
The bed was neatly made with crisp white linens topped by a cozy plaid comforter in shades of violet, blue and green that would remind Sophie of the ocean. On the bedside table, a vase of fresh flowers—lilies and daisies—added a pop of color and a hint of a spring scent. A small framed picture of Sophie’s family was placed there too, their smiling faces a constant reminder of their love and support waiting for her outside these walls.
As Sophie’s eyes adjusted to the room’s gentleness, she noticed a few more personal touches. Her favorite blanket, a soft, plush throw in a pastel pink, was folded neatly at the foot of the bed. On the dresser, a small collection of her books and a few favorite trinkets—her seashell collection, a small hand-painted figurine of a cat, and a tiny worn-out journal—were arranged with care, as if waiting for her to return to them.
“I thought these little things might make you feel more at home,” Tristan said softly, his voice breaking the silence.
Sophie’s eyes, wide with a blend of confusion and wonder, moved from one familiar object to another. Her lips trembled as she took in the room’s comforting details, the love and thoughtfulness poured into every corner. “It’s... it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.
Tristan, who had been standing by the door, stepped closer, his eyes crinkled. “I wanted you to feel safe here, Sophie. To feel like you’re still surrounded by love, even when I can’t be right here with you.”
Sophie reached out, her fingers brushing over the photograph of her family, her touch lingering on their smiling faces. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible. “This... this means so much.”
* * *
That night, as Sophie drifted off to sleep, Tristan sat by her bedside, watching over her until that moment he told her he’d leave with a promise to return to her side in the morning. With a soft kiss to her cheek, he stood, leaving her under the watchful eyes of his trusted staff. After a facility walkthrough, he would be heading off to their home to sleep for the first time since this nightmare began.