Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Ingrid
Isat shoulder-to-shoulder with Tristian, feeling the tremors radiating from his body as we sat in the hospital waiting room.
He was a cage of nervous energy; his knee bounced against the floor, and his hands, usually so steady when they held a paintbrush or my waist, were shaking.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him truly afraid.
I leaned my head against the rough fabric of his jacket, sliding my hand into his to offer whatever small comfort I could. He let out a sigh, his thumb tracing the back of my hand.
He’d opened up to me about her already—about the accident that left her paralyzed and the brutal matches he fought just to keep her in this room.
He carried the weight of her condition like a punishment, as if he were the one who had failed her.
Knowing how much this cost him, it touched my heart that he was willing to let me into this sacred, painful part of his life.
“… I really hope she’ll like me…” I whispered. The words felt fragile in the quiet room.
He looked down at me, the intensity in his gaze softening. “She’s going to love you, doll…”
I nodded, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing tight. He pulled me closer, anchoring me to him until a nurse named Margaret called us back.
My heart hammered against my ribs as we walked down the sterile hallway. I found myself tugging at the sleeves of the hoodie Tristian had given me, a nervous habit I couldn’t suppress.
We entered a room filled with a rhythmic beep-beep-beep: a heart monitor.
Tristian’s mother lay perfectly still. She wasn’t as frail as I had imagined, but there was a dullness to her skin that spoke of years spent away from the sun. Tristian took the chair beside her bed, his voice dropping to a vulnerable register I’d never heard before.
“Hi, Mom…”
Tears stung my eyes instantly. There was so much raw love and regret packed into those two words. I tried to blink them back, turning my head so he wouldn’t see me crumbling.
“I… I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. It’s been a bit rough these last few weeks.”
My mind flashed to the images of the club, to Darragh’s predatory smile, the way Tristian had run to protect me, and those last haunting words from Darragh: he’d put something to Tristian, something he had to consider under threat of something bad happening—an “offer.”
A thought snapped into place: was it something financial? This room, all this care, couldn’t be cheap. And Tristian fought in boxing matches and won big each time.
Was he funding all this?
But what about his father?
“I brought someone for you to meet.” Tristian reached for my hand. “Remember the girl I told you about? She’s here with me now, and I want to introduce you to her.”
He caught sight of my face then, his brow furrowing as he felt the dampness on my skin. “Doll… why are you crying?”
I shook my head, my throat tight.
A sob threatened to break through, but Tristian just smiled sadly and pulled me onto the chair beside him. He gently brushed the tears away with his thumb, his touch grounding me. I took a deep, shaky breath and looked at the woman who had raised the man I was falling for.
“Hi, Mrs. Locke…” I began. Tristian’s hand gave mine an encouraging squeeze. “I’m Ingrid… I just wanted to say that… your son is one of the best people I’ve met in my life so far…”
I looked at him, seeing the way his eyes searched mine, and I felt a surge of pride for him. “I’m also very happy that you both have each other… I wish I was as close to my mother as he is with you,” I said, a bittersweet smile touching my lips.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Tristian’s grip tightened on me, his knuckles turning white. He wasn’t looking at his mother anymore; he was glaring at the small window in the door.
I followed his gaze and felt my stomach drop. Mr. Noah was standing in the hall, speaking with Margaret.
Tristian lunged to his feet. I instinctively grabbed his jacket, terrified of the rage radiating off him. He didn’t let go of me, though. He kept my hand locked in his as he strode to the door and swung it open.
Noah turned, his face a mask of calm calculation. “Tristian… what a surprise to see you here.”
“The hell are you doing here?” Tristian seethed.
Noah tilted his head, looking entirely too composed. “I can’t visit my wife in the hospital?”
“She stopped being your wife when you fucking decided to forget about her and put everything else before us.”
Noah didn’t flinch. His cold eyes drifted over to me.
“Ingrid… always good to see you. Your father was just on the phone with me, said he wanted to have a conversation with you when you went home. Between you and me, he didn’t sound too happy.
Said you hadn’t been home last night, wondered if I knew anything about it. ”
The blood drained from my face. My heart sank into my shoes. In the haze of being with Tristian, I had forgotten the world outside… forgotten to check my messages, forgotten the rules Papa expected me to follow. On the inside I was panicking and my expression couldn’t hide that.
“I’ve done my best to cool him down,” Noah continued easily.
Tristian growled, “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing; what could I tell him? I don’t know where you’ve been.” Noah straightened his tie. “I just reasoned that perhaps Ingrid had had her work cut out for her yesterday. We all know what a hothead you can be, Tristian.”
“Fuck you,” Tristian spat.
Noah’s mouth curved. “Looks like you still have some work to do with him, Ingrid. But I suppose baby steps are to be expected. Still… I’d hope to see some respect from you sooner rather than later, son. You’ll never be ready to work in the business if you don’t.”
Tristian didn’t give him another second of his time. He hauled me toward the exit, his strides long and furious.
We reached his black Mercedes, and the silence that followed was deafening. He stared out the windshield, the muscles in his jaw working overtime.
“Ingrid…” he began.
I didn’t want him to finish. I didn’t want to talk about his father or mine. I leaned over, resting my head on his shoulder and occupying my hands by playing with his fingers. “I don’t want you to be upset…”
He let out a long, weary sigh and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. I felt safe here, even with the looming danger waiting for me at home. With him, the world felt manageable.
“…Your father is waiting for you at home…”
I bit my lip, the reality of my situation crashing back down. I wasn’t ready to go back to that quiet, controlled house. I wanted to stay in Tristian’s arms, listening to his steady breathing as I fell asleep with his fingers tangling in my hair.
“Right…” I whispered.
He started the engine, the car rumbling to life. “I’ll have to drop you off… but what do you say we get dinner later this week? Just the two of us.”
My head snapped up, my eyes widening. The fear of Papa was momentarily eclipsed by a rush of pure joy. “Y-yes… Yes, please…”
A small, genuine smile finally broke through his anger. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “You have to at least try to hide your excitement, baby…”
I flushed deep red, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek in return, a silent thank-you for giving me something to look forward to amidst the chaos.
Our first official date. I could already feel the butterflies taking flight.