CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
Tania handed me a coffee in a biodegradable cup and smiled like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t talked about me. Looking indifferent, Forrest nodded at me once, then turned to Tristan and said something low. I didn’t catch it, but Tristan’s jaw tightened.
He was pissed off.
They shook hands briefly and then Forrest climbed into his van. Tania waved, and they rolled out, tires crunching over the gravel as they disappeared into the trees.
I wondered how much damage had been done by yesterday’s spat.
I dreaded thinking about it.
Tristan didn’t speak, but he watched me.
I didn’t speak, either.
We packed up in silence. I folded blankets, rinsed dishes, and avoided his eyes. He kept glancing at me like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I didn’t offer any.
I had fallen asleep long before he came to bed, and he was up before I opened my eyes.
There was a strange distance between us. One that hadn’t existed yesterday. I wondered if Forrest’s words had sunk into Tristan. If he was starting to second-guess everything.
The thoughts made my heart race.
We hit the road again, the van humming beneath us like it always did. The trees blurred past. I stared out the window, trying to pretend I wasn’t unraveling.
Thinking.
Figuring out my next move.
The next town came into view.
Here we go again.
“You’re quiet,” Tristan said finally.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He didn’t respond right away. “You’re not.”
I turned toward him. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Something. Anything. You’ve been shutting me out all morning.”
I looked back out the window. “I’m just tired.”
“No,” he said, his voice rising. “Don’t do that. Don’t deflect.”
“I’m just saying I’m tired.”
“No lies. For fuck’s sake, what are we even doing, Daisy? Driving around like this? You won’t talk to me. You won’t let me in. What the hell is this? It’s bothering the shit out of me.”
My chest tightened. “I didn’t realize we had a label.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he snapped. “I thought we were past this. I thought we agreed—we’re running from our pasts together. Not separately. Together.”
I swallowed hard. “Tristan…”
He pulled the van abruptly onto the shoulder. Gravel sprayed, the tires skidded, and we jolted to a stop outside a tire shop. Workers inside the open garage looked our way curiously.
“Talk to me,” he implored, turning to face me. “Right now.”
I stared at the dashboard. “I can’t.”
“You won’t,” he said. “There’s a difference—”
“I heard everything last night.”
The words didn’t bother him like I thought they would. He merely blinked at me, digesting them before he nodded.
“I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”
“I know that.”
“I defended you—us.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did—”
“He wasn’t being awful.”
His eyes darkened. “He was being a dickhead, Daze! Don’t soften what you heard.”
“He was being protective of his friend—”
“I didn’t ask for his fucking advice.”
“I worry I’ve put a wedge between the two of you.”
He leaned toward me, gritting out, “He put the wedge there, Daze. He was out of fucking line.”
“Was he, though?” I threw my hands into the air, feeling undone with frustration. “Their eyes are open. Mine are, too. The only one who refuses to see what’s happening is you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You’re better off on your own!”
His nostrils flared with fury. “I know what’s good for me.”
I opened the door and stepped out. The air was sharp, biting. I walked a few feet away, my arms crossed and heart pounding. His door slammed open, and he came up behind me.
“Nothing he said was wrong,” I said without turning around. “I do have secrets! I can’t open up to you about them. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And it’s not fair to you.”
Tristan’s voice, raw and panicked, cut through the air. “Don’t go down this road, Daze.”
I turned, and he was already there, grabbing my wrist. It wasn’t hard, but it was firm.
He didn’t want me out of reach.
His eyes were wild, desperate.
I looked down at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes now. “Tristan, you’ve jumped into this, and you’re clinging hard.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Are you heartbroken?”
The question caused him to still. “What?”
“Forrest said you’re moving on too soon.”
“Ignore what Forrest said.”
“I can’t!” I looked up at him now, wanting to see the truth in his eyes. “Like him, I want to protect you, too. If you’re heartbroken…that changes things, Tristan. I need to know. Please.”
He shook his head quickly. “I’m not heartbroken, Daze. That relationship died a long time ago, even while I was still with her. We were young, and we wanted different things from life.”
“Like that she didn’t want to go on the road with you?”
“I wasn’t even considering the road when we broke up. She wanted to travel and party and never slow down.”
“That sounds a lot like you, doesn’t it?”
He glowered. “I’m not out here partying, Daze, or flying off to Bali for a good time. I still want things for myself when this is all said and done.”
“Like what?”
“Purpose.”
I blinked, repeating quietly, “Purpose.”
“A reason to live.”
I took a moment, digesting his words. “Forrest said—”
“Forget Forrest. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He just likes to insert himself, all right? He doesn’t respect boundaries.”
“He hated me!”
“He couldn’t understand you, and that’s what he does best. He dissects people. Likes to pull them apart. Find out what their strengths and weaknesses are, and you’re…you’re hard to figure out.”
I tugged on my wrist. “Let me go now, Tristan.”
He did, but it took great effort. His body shook as he released a deep breath.
“I don’t want you to take what he said to heart.
I don’t care about your past. I don’t care what you’ve done or what you’re hiding.
I just want you. I’ll take you any way I can.
Broken, guarded, silent—I don’t care. Just don’t overthink this, Daze. ”
From the corner of my eye, I saw a worker from the garage draw near, looking at me with concern.
“Are you all right, miss?”
I looked away from Tristan and nodded. “I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t.
Far from it.
The fight-or-flight response made my feet tingle.
The man looked at Tristan. “He bothering you?”
“No.”
He waited for me to continue, but I walked past them both, feeling lightheaded.
When I heard Tristan’s footsteps, I called out without stopping. “I just need a minute, all right? A quick walk. I’m not going anywhere, Tristan.”
He stopped, but I could feel his eyes on me. I took deep breaths, shaking the anxiety from my limbs. The morning sun beat down on me as I walked along the road, hearing the van follow behind me.
Feeling Tristan’s eyes on me every step of the way.
At some point, I ducked inside a bookstore where it was cool and dim. I sat in a quiet spot, out of everyone’s view, and continued to breathe. Tristan hadn’t followed me inside, but I knew I would find him out front.
The desperate look in his eyes unnerved me.
Frightened me.
Made me remember how easy it was to fall into someone.
I shakily stood and walked up and down the aisles, my fingers brushing along the spines of used books. Classic books.
I paused in the philosophy section, my blurry vision latching onto familiar names.
Philosophers who awed me.
Who haunted me.
Aristotle.
Plato.
Seneca—
My stomach lurched.
Nononono, don’t go there.
Unable to resist, I pulled a copy of Seneca from the shelf and opened its weathered pages. My body shuddered at the familiar text staring back at me.
Oh, God.
I was back there again.
In a past full of rich colors. The smiles and the happiness and the beauty I destroyed.
Dizzy, I fell to the floor, an agonized sound escaping my mouth as I frantically grabbed at the pages and tore, and tore, and tore.
It felt like a blackout moment.
A blink, and I was sitting among hundreds of torn pages, Seneca’s words cut in half and destroyed by my shaking hands. My ramblings were those of a nonsensical woman with a fractured mind.
Noise came from all around me.
Familiar arms wrapped around me, pulling me upright.
“We gotta go,” Tristan said tightly. “Sweetness, they want you out.”