Chapter 19
KATIE
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve made it three steps onto the bridge. It sways with every breeze, and with it, my stomach. I inhale through my nose and out through my mouth.
There’s a crunching of leaves below me, and then Tristan’s sun-streaked hair and broad shoulders come into view.
He tips his head up. I can’t make out his expression, but my phone buzzes just seconds later.
“I told you not to come,” I say. My voice wobbles. I hate that it wobbles. I am not a crier—not in front of others, at least.
Pick yourself up and move on should be tattooed on my forehead.
“And yet, here I am.” Tristan’s voice warms something inside me through the phone.
“You’re supposed to be on a date.”
I shouldn’t be doing this. Relying on him.
I wait for him to leave, my heart in my throat. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to do this by myself. I squeeze my eyes shut when the wind buffets the bridge again, and a horrified sound comes from my throat. It might be a whimper.
“How’s the weather up there?” he asks.
I half laugh, half sob into the phone. “I’m so annoyed at you. You came here without a bodyguard.”
“I know,” he says soothingly. “I know you’re annoyed at me. You can be annoyed at me all you want once you’re back on the ground.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
It’s both worse and better that someone is watching me do this. I will myself to take another step, but the next board is narrower than the others. My whole foot won’t even fit, and the thought of any part of me just dangling in the wind—I squeeze my eyes shut again.
“I can hear you panicking.”
“Shut up,” I hiss.
His chuckle is low. “I’m coming up.”
“No, Tristan, don’t—” But the line is dead and he’s already starting at the bottom rung of the ladder that leads up to the far platform. He scales it with admirable ease and salutes me when he lands on the other side of the bridge.
I swallow, expecting a flippant comment about how I’m not that high up, but instead his gaze pins me as he stalks to the platform edge.
“Bailey,” he says with a slow smile. “There you are. Though you’re looking a bit underdressed.” His gaze snags on my left arm, and his eyes seem to glitter. It’s the scattered forest light playing tricks.
“I had to splint my arm with my shirt,” I say weakly. “I may have sprained my wrist.”
“And here I thought you’d started stripping to show how grateful you are to me.”
I laugh, scaring birds into flight above us. My shoulders shake as I tip my head back. Tristan is grinning at me as I finish.
“I don’t need your help.”
He raises both brows. “Sort of seems like you do.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“I hate you,” I shout back.
He’s still grinning, the arrogant ass. “Come hate me over here.”
My breath catches. “Tristan. I can’t.”
“Yes. You can.”
My gaze wavers, wants to drop to the forest floor, so far below me. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to—
“Eyes on me.”
My gaze snaps back to his.
“Eyes on me and breathe, okay?”
I nod.
“What do you want to take one step forward?”
“Weekly massages.” The words pop out and his brows go up.
“I’ll clear my schedule.”
“Oh god.” I laugh helplessly. “Not from you. Gio and his guys get them, and I want them for muscle soreness.”
He nods. I take one shaky step, my hands scraping along the ropes, barely releasing the death grip I have on them. My wrist twinges, and I wince.
“What else? More vacation?”
My foot slides, and I suck in air. My heart is thundering in my ears.
“Bailey,” he croons. “Eyes on me. Don’t forget, or I’ll dock your pay.”
Our gazes clash. He’s right at the edge of the platform, arms crossed but still waiting expectantly for me. He’s not scared.
“You and your games,” I say, but already something eases inside me as I watch him.
“You like my games.”
I do. I like his games and the way he showed up for me today, even if I’d never hope for anyone to be there. My stomach tumbles as I take another shaky step. Then another. “What would I do with more vacation?”
His lips purse. “Honestly, I’m not sure. It’s probably wasted on you.”
Two more steps. Our eyes meet. His are smiling. I take the last step, my legs shaking, and his arms close around me.
“Brave,” he whispers into my hair. “So brave.”
I sag. I can’t help it. “Don’t tell anyone,” I whisper. I wait for a joke or extortion. Instead, his hand tangles in my hair and presses my face into his shoulder.
“Never,” he says huskily. “I’ll never tell.”
I shiver and he clutches me closer.
He smells good. Like evergreens and a hint of sweat. He smells like he didn’t shower after stacking wood, and oh god, my body likes it. I want to press my face into his neck. I want—
No.
“Studies show that you’ll find me more attractive after crossing that bridge.” His voice rumbles under my cheek, and his arrogant words make me laugh weakly. I feel like a wet towel. Tristan’s arms are the only thing holding me up right now. “Is it working?”
“Definitely not.”
He pulls away to stare down at me. “Are you certain?” His gaze is gleaming with humor. “Should we send you back over just to be sure?”
“Hell no.” I shudder and check the wrap on my wrist while he watches me with an unreadable look on his face.
“Why are you so scared of heights?” he asks quietly.
My gaze jerks up to meet his. “A lot of people are scared of heights.”
He makes a sound of agreement, then takes my wrist in his hands. They’re warm, large, and capable, with long fingers and more calluses from his time spent at his distilleries. “But you were petrified.”
I swallow. “I’ve always been scared.”
“Will you be able to make it down the ladder?” He tips his head toward the thirty-foot climb down that waits for us.
I wince but nod. I’m shaky and weak from the adrenaline, but I can do it. I’ve done harder things.
“Stubborn woman.” He cups my jaw briefly, and his teasing words sound like a compliment. “Come on. I’ll go first so I can catch you.”
The first step onto the ladder makes me want to throw up. It’s nailed to the tree, but each rung is narrow and slick from use.
“So when did it start?” Tristan’s voice comes from below me.
“The fear?” I take another step down, following his voice.
My wrist twinges, but I ignore it. “When I was little, I guess. We had a school trip when I was ten. To an obstacle course like this one. It was a mother-daughter thing.” My stomach rolls.
At the memory or the height, I’m not sure.
I focus on Tristan’s steady breaths. I’m going painfully slow.
Is he still there? I twist to look, but my foot slips—
“I’m here,” he says quietly before his hand lands on my thigh, steadying me. “Take it easy. Who went with you?”
“No one. David was busy that day with a job.”
“So you went alone.” Tristan’s voice is flat.
I frown. “That’s not the point. I froze when I got to one of the obstacles. We weren’t that high up, but I was paralyzed. I sat on the platform for hours, until it got dark.”
“And no one came for you?”
The breath catches in my throat. “Eventually, yes. The teachers realized I was there and came back to help me down.”
We’re a mere five steps from the bottom. Tristan’s feet hit the ground with a thump, then his hands come to my waist as I take the remaining steps with shaky legs.
“I can do it on my own,” I tell him, even though it feels good to have the support.
His eyes are blazing when I turn to look at him. “But you shouldn’t have to. Someone should have been there for you back then too.”
The words make a pit yawn inside of me. “That’s nice, Tristan, but it’s not how life works. You have to make your own way, because most of the time, no one is coming.”
I tip up my chin. Tristan wouldn’t understand.
He’s had a lifetime of close family and unwavering support.
He doesn’t realize that counting on someone gets harder and harder each time they fail you, more devastating each time your hopes are dashed.
The harder you cling, the more they pull away and the worse it is when things end.
His jaw clenches. I shiver under his focus.
“You should have called me today. Before you got hurt. I would have come.”
“And interrupt your date?”
“Damn the date,” he says before he takes a step forward. “I will come for you. If you call me, I’ll be there.”
I swallow at the intensity of his gaze. This isn’t the Tristan I know. I’m used to a teasing, charming friend, not this man who is calm, forceful, maybe even a little arrogant. A protector. CEO of Prince Bourbon. Heir to the Prince family fortune. My heart does a little skip in my chest.
I will come for you.
I so badly want to rely on him, but as much as I want to believe it, I know even people with the best intentions will disappoint you.