Chapter 29 Tristan
TRISTAN
Eva wasn’t in the stands during warmups.
I checked my phone the second I got back to the locker room, that familiar knot of worry tightening in my chest.
I sent another text. My fourth of the day. She hadn’t even read them.
Me
Kitten, are you okay?
No response.
When the opposing team’s forward lined up against me, I saw red—I saw Jed Carter.
I slammed into him.
For five seconds on that ice, I wasn’t Tristan Baptiste, nice guy, the angel on everyone’s shoulder. I was violent and bloodthirsty, and fuck me, it felt good.
Coach yelled at me for the retaliatory penalty, and the rest of the game was a blur. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t stop thinking about her, the way she’d said she was fine when I knew she wasn’t.
We won, barely. I changed faster than I ever had, my hands shaking as I tied my shoes.
“Baptiste, you’re on press,” Coach called.
“Not today, Coach,” I said, standing and grabbing my bag.
Coach raised an eyebrow.
“Checking on Eva,” I said, dragging Cole out of the locker room.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re taking your car,” I snapped. “Eva hasn’t responded all day.”
His expression darkened. “Go.”
The drive felt endless. Every red light, every slow car, made me want to crawl out of my skin. Eva might not have forgiven me, but she’d been sending me her meals faithfully for the last few days.
Eva’s dad was in the driveway when we pulled up, clearly heading out to work. He saw us get out, and his jaw set in anger.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“She’s not answering her phone,” I said. “We’re worried.”
“She’s been sick for two days. She couldn’t go to class today.”
“We just want to check on her,” Cole said quietly.
Mr. Jackson studied us, conflicted. “She made it pretty clear she wants nothing to do with you two.”
“I know.” Cole’s voice was rough. “But I can’t— I need to know she’s okay.” He took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Can we start over? My name’s Cole Carter, and I am not my father.”
Mr. Jackson’s expression softened slightly before he accepted Cole’s hand. “She’s so fucking stubborn. I have to leave for my shift, and I don’t want to leave her alone like this.”
“We’ll stay,” I said immediately. “All night, if we have to.”
Conrad looked at us both for a long moment then unlocked the door. “Come inside. I’ll make you coffee.”
His hands shook as he measured the grounds. He caught Cole noticing.
“Three weeks sober,” he offered quietly. “Since just before Eva’s accident. My sponsor says the shakes last a while.”
Cole went very still beside me.
“Eva doesn’t know yet,” Conrad continued. “She’s got enough on her plate.”
Cole nodded, his jaw tight. “Getting sober is hard as hell. You should tell her. She deserves good news too.”
Conrad pressed his lips together, frustration written across his face, then grabbed his jacket. “Spare key’s in the kitchen drawer. She’s going to give you hell for being here.”
“We can take it,” I said. We’d earned worse.
Then, he was gone, and we were alone with the weight of what we were about to do—force our care on a woman who’d made it clear she didn’t want it.
We climbed the stairs. Light showed under Eva’s door, and just knowing she was there, breathing on the other side, loosened something in my chest.
I knocked softly.
“Dad, I’m fine. Go to work.”
“It’s not your dad,” I said. “It’s me. And Cole.”
“Go away.” Her voice was congested and weak, and it made me want to break down the door.
“Not happening, sparrow,” Cole said flatly.
She coughed, and the sound was rough and wet.
It sounded like it hurt. My chest ached listening to it.
This was Eva—strong, fierce Eva, who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders and never asked for help.
And she was in there alone, sick and miserable, because she’d rather suffer than let us near her.
“Are you running a fever?” I asked. “Do you need any medicine? Is your heart okay?”
She didn’t say a word. I settled on the floor outside her door, back against the wall. Cole sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. Her father wouldn’t have left her if she was in danger of dying from heart failure, but that fact was small consolation when my girl was sick.
“We can sit here all night,” I called through the door. “We’ve got nowhere else to be. You’ll get rid of us sooner if you let us check on you.”
The silence pressed down on us, broken only by an occasional sniffle from Eva. Cole shifted restlessly, his hands clenching and unclenching, as if he had to physically stop himself from barging into the room and making her accept his help.
“Remember when you tried to play through being sick last year?” I said to him, my voice loud enough to carry through the door. “Coach had to physically remove you from the ice.”
“I was fine,” Cole muttered, giving me a heavy dose of side-eye.
“You had a 104 fever and were hallucinating. You thought Massi was Coach’s dog.”
I heard a sound from inside the room, not quite a laugh, but close enough that hope flared in my chest.
“Remember when you had the flu sophomore year?” Cole said. “We weren’t out of the dorms yet, and you were the worst fucking patient.” He nudged me with his shoulder, grinning.
“You were a terrible nurse,” I said, nudging him right back.
“You wouldn’t fucking rest.”
“I had shit to do.”
“Yeah, until you passed out during practice,” Cole said, his lips twisting into a smile.
“I didn’t pass out,” I protested. “It was just a dizzy spell.”
“A dizzy spell that had Haruto and Noah carrying you off the ice,” Cole said dryly. “Doesn’t sound like anyone else we know, does it?”
Eva made a soft sound that could have been a giggle, or it could have been her muffling her coughs.
“Like you’re one to talk. I had to teach you how to do your laundry freshman year,” I said. “You turned all your whites pink.”
“Fucking once.”
“It was cute. You’d looked up how to use a washing machine on YouTube.”
Cole glared at me, but his eyes were light with amusement. “You were a better friend than I deserved that year.”
“And ever since,” I teased.
“Yeah,” he admitted, leaning his head on my shoulder.
Despite everything—the fear, the worry, the fact that Eva was suffering on the other side of this door—I smiled.
Silence stretched, and then the lock turned with a soft click.
Eva looked terrible. She was fever-flushed and glassy-eyed, with dark circles carved under her eyes. She wore a thick blanket around her shoulders, and—dammit—her laptop was open on the bed to a spreadsheet that looked like financials.
Still working. Still fighting.
God, I loved her.
The thought hit me like a truck, stealing my breath.
“Jesus, Eva,” Cole muttered, already pulling out his phone. “I’m calling a doctor.”
“No.” Her voice was hoarse but firm.
“Eva—”
“It’s just a cold. I don’t need a doctor.”
“You sound like you’re dying.”
“I’m not letting you throw money at this.” She coughed, wincing. “If I get worse, I’ll go to urgent care.”
Cole’s jaw tightened. I watched him war with himself, wanting to fix this, to use his resources, to control the situation the way he controlled everything. To my surprise, he pocketed his phone.
“Fine,” he bit out. “But if your fever goes higher, I’m dragging you to the ER myself. And I don’t give a shit if you hate me for it.”
I closed her laptop gently and set it aside. “No more work tonight.”
“Have you eaten?” Cole demanded.
She didn’t answer.
“Eva!” Cole was unraveling, the same way he unraveled when I got sick and needed care—whenever he had to face a problem he couldn’t fix with money, like he couldn’t fix our relationship with Eva. His hands curled into fists. “Fuck. Okay. I’ll get food. Medicine. Whatever.”
“Cole—”
“I’m not asking permission,” he said flatly. Then, he was gone, the door to Eva’s room slamming behind him.
I helped Eva sit down on the bed, her skin burning under my hands—fever-hot and clammy at the same time.
“You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” I brushed sweaty hair off her forehead and let my hand linger there for just a second. “Let me take care of you. Please.”
Her eyes filled with tears, exhaustion stripping away all her defenses. “I’m so tired, Tristan.”
“I know, kitten.”
She leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around her carefully, like she might shatter if I held too tight, worried she’d remember she hated me and pull away.
She didn’t pull away, though. She just shook in my arms, crying quietly, and I thought my heart might actually break.
Cole came back twenty minutes later with bags from a pharmacy and a deli.
“I didn’t know what you needed, so I got everything.” He emptied it all on her nightstand. He’d picked up half the cold medicine aisle, three types of soup from the deli, Gatorade in every flavor, and a thermometer still in its package. A bottle rolled off, and I caught it.
“Real smooth, Carter.”
“Fuck off, Baptiste.” There was no heat in his words. He was too busy fighting with the thermometer package, swearing under his breath.
I took it from him, opening it easily.
He glared. “Show-off.”
“You’re welcome.”
Eva giggled, and my heart melted for her.
I sorted through medicine bottles, finding the right ones. Cole got her a glass of water and held it up to her lips so she could take the medicine.
“I can hold my own water,” she said dryly, but something in Cole’s expression halted her complaint. She sipped silently.
He held up a thermometer, and she obediently took her temperature.
“102.3.” His voice was tight. “That’s too high.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s too high, Eva.” His phone was already out again.
“Cole.” I caught his wrist. “Medicine first. If it doesn’t come down in an hour, then we can call a doctor.”
He looked at me, then at Eva, then back at his phone, and finally nodded, stiff and reluctant.
I opened the chicken noodle soup, lifting a spoonful to her lips.
Eva raised an eyebrow. “I can feed myself.”