Chapter Three
The van was not the rugged, mud-splattered pickup I expected. It was sleek, glossy black, with gold rays painted across the side like a rolling advertisement for Tristan Graham, Successful Adult.
“Wow,” I said, circling it. “I thought we’d be road-tripping in a beat-up farm truck. This looks like you kidnapped a tour bus.”
“Sorry it’s not a limo.” His grin was just as cocky as it had been at seventeen.
“Are you kidding? This is perfect. Probably has more legroom than economy seating.”
“And zero chance of a crying toddler behind you kicking the seat for two hours.” He popped open the back doors, slid in the dolly, and reached for my heavy carry-on.
I hesitated for a heartbeat. My ex used to roll his eyes when I struggled with groceries and said I should not expect help. Funny how that one sentence stayed lodged under the ribs for years.
Taking a breath and knowing Tristan wasn’t Gregory, I relaxed the grip on my suitcase. “Thanks. Purse is all I need.”
“Good,” he said, shutting the door with a satisfying thud. “Because once you’re in, there’s no getting out. All aboard.”
I placed one foot on the running board. “Okay, but we need rules.”
His brows shot up. “Rules?”
“Yes. A contract. Verbal, binding, legally enforceable.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “One: no murder. Two: no detours to sketchy motels. Three: you will get me to my best friend in Victoria alive.”
I heard it as soon as I said it—best friend. Not past tense. Not qualified. The wrong word in the wrong spot. My chest tightened, but Tristan only blinked once, like a quick reset before the easy version of him slid back into place.
“My terms,” he said, leaning an elbow on the door, “are no hogging the playlist, no complaining about my driving, and you must laugh at least once at my jokes. Even the bad ones.”
Mocking his feeble demands, I nodded. “Fine,” I said, climbing in. “But you’d better have coffee planned into this itinerary or I’ll declare breach of contract.”
“First stop’s Ridge Heights,” he said, starting the engine. “Best cappuccino west of Red Deer at the Coffee Loft. You’ll survive.”
“Coffee Loft?”
“Only the best coffee shop around. I promise.” A wink I wasn’t sure was necessarily meant for me came my way.
I buckled up, heart pounding with the unfamiliar push of stepping outside my comfort zone. While desperately trying not to look like I was actually excited. Because honestly, when was the last time I did something spur of the moment?
We eased out of the airport loop and onto the highway, the silence stretching long enough for him to toss me a sidelong glance.
“So. Catch me up. What’s your life story?”
“Well, that’s not awkward at all.”
“Hey, I just offered you a cross-province ride. Least you can do is entertain me.”
I scrunched my nose. “Fine. I’ve upgraded to an ER nurse and I live in Athabasca.
I drink way too much coffee, like some days, I swear I can hear colours.
That’s the highlight reel.” Most of the time, the coffee was ice cold, but never an iced coffee, and it went down in gulps between curtains and patients.
He whistled low. “ER nurse, huh? Not surprised. You were always terrifyingly good at science. I figured you’d end up saving lives somehow.”
“Terrifyingly?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You used to correct Mr. Harris in Bio 20. You were the only fifteen-year-old who’d ever made a grown man question mitosis.”
I groaned. “That was one time.”
He grinned. “Still. Called it. I knew it back then.”
I tried to hide my smile by staring out the window. Deep down a tiny, annoying warmth bloomed in my chest.
* * *
The highway stretched ahead, endless prairie giving way to the first hint of foothills. Tristan drove with one hand on the wheel, casual, like the entire trip to Victoria was no bigger deal than popping down to the grocery store. I hated driving on the best of days, and I envied his approach.
“So, ER nurse,” he said, cutting me a sideways glance. “What’s that like? Saving lives, yelling ‘Clear!’ dramatically, flirting with doctors?”
I snorted. The doctors were young, fresh, and willing to start in a small town before moving up the ranks to big leagues.
They weren’t interested in anyone older, and definitely not someone with children old enough they could consider younger siblings.
“It’s ninety percent paperwork, ten percent bodily fluids, and exactly zero flirting with doctors.
Unless sarcasm counts.” I cocked my head.
He chuckled, low and warm. “Still sounds cooler than hauling wine crates up and down the loading docks.”
“Wait. You own a winery, don’t undersell it. That sounds very—” I wiggled my fingers dramatically “—romantic.”
“Romantic?” His mouth curved. “You ever cleaned grape mash out of a clogged pump? Real sexy.”
I giggled and instantly regretted giving him the satisfaction as he used it against me. Good naturedly, of course.
“Ahh, there it is.” He tapped the steering wheel. “First official laugh. Contract fulfilled.”
“Barely.” I folded my arms. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Oh, I’m only getting started.” He dropped one hand casually on the door rest. “So, tell me, how are your kids? Last time I saw you they were just little, so what are they? Teens now?”
I choked back a laugh. “Hardly. My oldest, Josh, is twenty-three, and Ally is almost twenty-one.”
A low whistle filled the cabin space. “Wow, I totally undershot that, didn’t I?”
“It’s all good. It goes by fast. Too fast. One day they’re in diapers, in a time where kisses healed everything, and in a blink, you’re no longer needed and their problems are too big to kiss away.”
“I’m sure that’s not entirely true. They still need you, just in a different way.”
“Yeah, someone to keep the fridge and pantry filled.” I let out a small sigh laced in love, knowing that what he said was true; the need was different. “But seriously, it’s not so bad. They are independent and great humans; I hit the lottery with them.”
A broad smile crossed his face. “That’s great. A proud parent.” He tipped his head to the side. “Do they ever see their father?”
Tossing my gaze to the road, I shook my head gently.
“Um, no. He made it clear years ago that he was out. The whole family thing wasn’t what he signed up for.
” I hung my head, even though I didn’t hold any anger toward the kid’s father.
After all, he did give me two of the greatest gifts ever. “Guess Lizzie never told you that.”
He nodded too quickly, like her name was a door he didn’t dare open. “She shared a lot with me, but when it came to you, she was pretty tight lipped. Almost like she was protecting you.”
“That sounds like her.”
“And the last time you and I saw each other, there wasn’t time for small talk.”
Back then, I couldn’t look at Tristan without bursting into giant, ugly sobs.
Time had softened the deathly hole Lizzie left, but it never really closed.
I kept to myself, and stayed away, even though the plan to visit with him had sounded like the best decision, I couldn’t do it.
In a weird way, he reminded me of what I’d lost. Lizzie had been the best friend a girl could’ve ever had.
When I needed her, and even when I didn’t, she came running.
Now, in her absence, I was trying my best to channel my inner Lizzie by running to Victoria to surprise my broken-hearted friend Tina. It’s what Lizzie would’ve done for me.
The air grew heavy between us, getting thicker with each passing moment.
“I miss her.” The words fell out like a lead weight, yet somehow, I felt lighter. He was someone who understood that pain, that deep loss, although it probably hit much harder for him since she was his sister.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Liz was pretty awesome. She always was the bigger person – the first to apologize, the first to make things right. I always envied that about her.”
In our teens and early twenties, if we ever got into a fight, she was almost guaranteed to be the first to make amends.
I had a nasty stubborn streak and could usually wait it out knowing she’d make the move first, so, in hindsight, I wasn’t as great a friend as she was.
But I had loved her with all my heart, so that had to count for something.
“Anyways,” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, stretching my legs out and crossing my feet at the ankles. “How’s your wife doing? Do you have any kids?”
A solemn look crossed his face for a heartbeat. “We divorced, but thankfully we had no kids so no worries about messing up anyone’s life with that nastiness.”
Like he and Lizzie’s father had when he divorced their mom. It left his mom a broken version of herself until the day she died. In all my memories of Mrs. Graham, I never remember her smiling. Ever.
“Oh, I’m sorry. When did that happen?”
“A week before Lizzie passed away.”
My eyes widened at the weight of dealing with divorce when Lizzie’s death blindsided everyone. “Ouch. That was a rough month for you.”
A teeny smile, but one all the same, tickled the edges of his full lips. “It gets better.”
“Better?”
“In between those two events, I lost my job.”
“Triple whammy. Yikes.” I ran my hands down the length of my dark jeans.
“But two of those three didn’t upset me much.
I found my calling and a new place to set up roots, quite literally.
” He winked. “Second Sun Winery – which is much nicer than the crusty office job I had. Wine, I’m good with.
People? Not so much. Wine makes sense – predictable variables, measurable reactions.
Relationships...” He lifted a shoulder. “Less quantifiable.”
I looked at him carefully, assessing what he wanted to say and what he needed to hold back.
He and Lizzie, being only a year apart in age, were quite close, and I knew from seeing him at her funeral how hard that had been, add on an impending divorce and a job loss.
I shook my head and dove in. “What happened? To cause the separation?”
“She cheated on me.” There was no malice in his voice. “With my buddy. Do you remember Christopher?”