CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Out of the darkness, Daisy.”
My eyes whipped open.
My mouth felt dry.
My throat…
It was tight. Like someone had wrapped their hands around it and squeezed.
I sat up, pushing away from Tristan’s arm. I moved so suddenly that I almost fell out of bed from panic.
“Daisy?” Tristan’s sleepy voice broke through the early morning air.
I barely heard him, too focused on the blackness of my dream. Of the screams. Of June’s hand reaching out for me in the dark.
I whimpered loudly, the choked cry tight in my lungs. I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted the salt in my mouth.
“Daisy.”
Tristan’s voice was closer. I couldn’t focus on his presence. Not when the dream sat at the edge of my vision. I reached my hand out, trying to grasp it.
Something is wrong. Something bad is going to happen—
Arms wrapped around me, and I jolted. Terror struck. I thrashed for only a moment before his mouth pressed against my ear, his chest tight against my back. “Calm down, baby. It was a nightmare. You’re awake now.”
I pushed away from him, though. My throat was on fire. I rushed to the front seat of the van, tripping over my own feet, and put down the sun visor. I inspected my throat in the mirror, feeling my back tighten at Tristan’s presence behind me.
“Daisy.”
What have you done, Daisy?
The sun lit up my skin, showing me there was nothing on my throat. No marks or redness. Nothing except the scratches I was making as I searched for it.
I expected to feel better.
To know it was just a violent dream.
Instead, my shoulders shook with my sobs. I opened the passenger-side door and nearly fell out, walking barefoot along the dirt ground. I didn’t want to face Tristan. Didn’t want to talk. I just needed to be alone.
I found a fallen tree in the woods. I sat on the moss-covered trunk and buried my face in my hands, breathing through the pain.
My sweet June.
I’m so sorry.
Tristan followed, but he wasn’t so close behind me that I felt his presence. I just knew he was there, watching over me.
Eventually, the heat set in. Even under the cover of trees, I couldn’t escape it. I looked up, listening intently to the sounds around me. The birds chirping. A woodpecker tapping at a tree. The sticks breaking under Tristan’s feet as he settled against a nearby tree to watch me.
“I had a dream,” I said, aware he was listening intently to every word. “It was about my sister. She was calling out for me, and I…I didn’t answer.”
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Her name was June.”
Was.
Is.
Because she was still my sister, even in death.
Tristan inhaled sharply, catching it. I confirmed it, adding, “She wanted to tell me something. She called me two days before she died. I…I never got back to her, and now…sometimes I get these dreams. I know she’s there, but I can’t see her, and she’s calling out for me, and like the phone call, I never answered. I never called her back.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, Daze.”
I was glad he kept his distance.
Because right now I needed it.
I just needed to feel it.
Something bad is going to happen.
The thought kept coming at me, confusing me, terrifying me. I strained, trying to understand it. Was it from the dream? Was she trying to tell me this? Had she been trying to warn me back then about the events that would follow after her death?
How much did she know?
“You’re right,” I whispered, pained. “You can’t outrun the past, Tristan.”
“No, you can’t,” he agreed quietly.
“So, then what are we doing?” I shrugged helplessly. “Are we wasting our time driving into the constant unknown?”
“I think when we’ve had enough, we’ll know that it’s time.”
“Time to what?”
“Time to confront what’s been hurting us.”
I wanted to tell him.
I wanted to let him know about…everything.
I opened my mouth.
To let him know what I’d done.
But I couldn’t.
He was going to leave me anyway.
Everyone—
Everyone I cared about left me in the end.
Tristan didn’t leave me alone for too long. He eventually came over, picked me up off that stump, and carried me back to the van. My arms were wrapped around his waist, my face buried between his neck and shoulder.
“Why are you being so nice?” I asked.
“You’re fucking joking, right?” he swiftly returned, his breathing unstrained even though I felt huge in his arms. But that was the thing with Tristan; he always acted like I was made of glass.
And no, I wasn’t really big in his arms—not bulging arms like his—but I felt like my emotions were most of the weight he was carrying.
“I practically punched you in the face getting up this morning.”
He let out a laugh as he opened the passenger door and delicately put me down on the seat, facing him. He looked down at me, his smile radiant, his eyes kind. “It was definitely not the kind of wake-up I expected.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He shook his head, and now his smile faded as he watched me tenderly. “You don’t have to apologize for waking up scared, Daze. No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”
“No matter what?” I repeated flatly.
He nodded solemnly. “Fucking oath.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but he made me want to believe him.
“I’m going to make us breakfast now and a big pot of coffee. Afterwards, we’re going to find a pool of water and take a skinny dip in the shade.”
I smiled, liking the sound of that. “How can I help?”
“You’re already helping.” He grinned and delivered a chaste kiss to my lips. “You’ve been helping me since the moment I met you.”
“Singing ‘Waves.’”
He nodded. “Singing ‘Waves.’”
“Are your song choices influenced by your current feelings?” I wondered as he opened the van door and got to work behind me.
“Most times.”
“What were you feeling when you sang ‘Waves’ that night?”
The pots and pans went quiet. I could hear him thinking from here.
Just when I thought he might not answer, he said, “That I wanted to go back to when I was a little kid. I wanted my dad to take me for another drive. Another campout with random folk. I wanted to hear him tell me spooky stories around the campfire as I shivered in the giant, warm sweater of his that he put me in. I wish I could have told him I loved him one last time.”
He let out a shaky breath, murmuring, “You’re not the only one who didn’t return a call, Daze.”
My heart jumped.
He understood.
His heartbreak didn’t echo mine, but it met it like two aching chords played together. Different losses carrying the same grief.
I loved the sound we made.
I watched him, dazed, wanting.
I was falling even deeper into him.
I couldn’t stop.
Didn’t want to stop.