CHAPTER EIGHT
We were sitting at a small outdoor burger joint with bright umbrellas and mile-long menus. I smashed through my food, unable to resist the gnawing hunger that would not abate.
Tristan had unfolded a crinkled map between our trays and was smoothing it out. My eyes lingered on his fingers—long, tanned, a little rough. I remembered the ecstasy they had brought me last night. The perfect pressure he’d used to make me explode.
I swallowed, my face burning as I watched the way his knuckles flexed while he traced ferry routes and trails. Something warm curled low in my belly.
He pointed to a place on the map, but I was busy staring at his mouth. The way his lips moved when he spoke. I thought of last night. The heated murmurs in my ears. The sound of his groans as he lost himself in me.
“This is where I was planning to head,” he said, tapping the map.
Then he said it—
“Ammonite Falls.”
I froze, my heady thoughts dissolving instantly. “Wait. Ammonite Falls?”
He looked up, catching the strain in my voice. “Yeah. You all right?”
Emotion surged through me. “That’s off the mainland.”
“On the island, yeah.”
I shook my head. “I can’t go there. That’s close to where I started. I can’t go back to the island.”
I hadn’t meant to say it like that. But the words spilled out, raw and panicked. My fingers clenched the edges of the table, and I felt the tremor in my chest return.
It was too soon.
I couldn’t go back there.
I had just left.
Flashes hit me.
Not memories exactly, but fragments.
A dark trail.
My feet crunching on gravel.
The sound of a child’s laughter.
Cold air biting my skin.
Pain digging into my ankles.
The smell of damp earth.
The sound of my own breath, ragged and too loud.
The panic.
The isolation.
The way my body had gone rigid, like it was bracing for the end—
I blinked hard, trying to push it away. My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe properly. The sun was too bright. The lines on the map blurred. I felt like I was slipping again, like the ground beneath me was tilting.
Tristan’s expression shifted. He folded the map slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. I finally looked up, forcing a deep breath into my lungs.
“Okay,” he said smoothly, like it was no issue at all. “We’ll take it off the route.”
I studied him closely, aware that he had seen my reaction—was seeing it play out before him now—and yet he didn’t ask a single question.
“You’re changing your route? Just like that?”
He nodded. “Of course. We’re in this together, and I’m not the boss, Daze.”
I didn’t speak for a few moments, gathering my thoughts. I thought of what we had just discussed in the van. Of why he was headed there in the first place.
“But…that’s where you want to scatter your father’s ashes.”
“It can wait.”
“Tristan—”
“I’m not taking you back toward somewhere you just left,” he cut in firmly. “Fuck that. The point is to head into the unknown.”
The way he said it, like it was obvious, made my throat tighten.
I reached out, almost without thinking, and touched his hand. Just lightly. Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin against mine.
In response, he turned his hand over, opening it wide for me to take. Despite his hand being so much larger than mine, they clicked together perfectly.
Another flash hit me.
Blood—so much blood—pooling around me—
What have you done, Daisy?
I squeezed Tristan’s hand and forced it out of my mind.
I sat beside Tristan, feeling nervous as we drove out of the town of Cobbersway. An old MP3 player wired into the van’s speakers blasted a bass-heavy song at high volume. The music relaxed my nerves, but I still chewed my nails anxiously.
British Columbia’s interior was filled with long, winding roads. The bush was dense on either side, and sprawling mountains rose in the distance. It was so picturesque beneath the sun and cloudless blue sky that it reminded me of one of those filtered backdrops you picked in a photography studio.
Despite the views, I couldn’t help looking over at the driver.
My eyes trekked the tanned skin of his arm. Even in a loose shirt, his biceps strained against the sleeves. His light hair was messy and a couple of inches too long. He had a straight nose and a fuller bottom lip.
I’d snacked on that bottom lip all night long.
“Where are we going?” I probably should have asked that already.
It occurred to me that, in that moment, my fate was in this man’s hands. He could take me into the middle of nowhere, and there was nothing I could do about it.
He glanced at me, and he must have read my thoughts because he smirked mischievously. “Don’t trust me?”
“I trust you enough,” I returned, amused, though at the same time I thought: Nothing he could do could be worse than the grief I had endured.
He turned the music down. “We’re going to stop at a campground in a few hours. We’ll cook up some grub and then bum around.”
He bit his bottom lip, his eyes lost in thought now. “It probably doesn’t sound all that appealing, does it?”
“Why not?”
He didn’t look at me. “You seem like the wine-and-dine type of woman.”
My smile weakened as I simply replied, “No, I’m really not.”
At that, he glanced at me, curiosity in his eyes.
I looked away from his probing gaze, determined not to let the past fester in the present.
It didn’t belong here.
Against all odds, this was my time.
My chance to do something grand despite the fracture in my soul.
Grief didn’t belong here.
We pulled into the campground just as the sun began to dip behind the trees. The air was cooler now, tinged with pine and woodsmoke. Our camping spot was away from the other families and RVs, with just enough privacy to make it feel like we were in our own little world.
Tristan hopped out and opened the back of the van, pulling out two folding chairs and a small cooler he had filled with drinks before we left town.
Unsure what to do, I stood awkwardly beside him.
He hauled out a big black bin full of supplies, his biceps straining with the movement. I glanced up at him, my cheeks burning when I found his eyes on mine.
“What do you need help with?” I quickly asked, keeping my gaze averted from his impressive physique.
“Just follow my lead, Daze. You can’t go wrong.”
Inside the box were larger pots, pans, and other cooking supplies. He pulled out a cast-iron pan, and I helped him set up dinner. Music flowed softly from the van’s speakers, easing what remained of my nerves.
He looked like he had done this a hundred times before.
It startled me how at ease I felt with every soft and heated look we exchanged.
Like I wasn’t in his way.
He lit a small portable stove and cooked sausages and eggs, passing me a plate with a crooked smile.
We ate in comfortable silence, though I couldn’t stop sneaking looks his way. I tried to gauge his mood, to read his expressions when they changed even slightly. Then, exhausted, I stared into my plate and didn’t look at him again until I was finished.
After dinner, we settled into the chairs side by side, looking up at the sky. The stars were beginning to show, scattered like sparkles across the velvet void.
“Look at that,” Tristan murmured.
I followed his gaze.
The stars were endless, scattered across distances my mind couldn’t comprehend. Beneath them, I felt small, but not insignificant. Just briefly relieved of the belief that my pain was the whole world.
Up there, it became something the universe could swallow whole.
“I used to think the stars were lonely,” I said quietly, reflecting. “But now I think they’re just waiting to be seen.”
Tristan turned to me, his expression unreadable.
I let out a light laugh. “I’m sorry. I know that sounded sappy as hell. I don’t know what it is about the night sky that makes us all weepy with these kinds of thoughts.”
His smile was weak. “Something in us.”
“It’s easy to feel lonely out here.”
“You’re not lonely tonight.”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “No. I’m not.”
His voice lowered. “You’ve been through something. I can tell.”
I stiffened. “Everyone’s been through something.”
“Yeah, but yours feels…heavy.”
I opened my mouth, searching for a response.
“Grief,” I pushed out weakly.
He nodded slowly. “That doesn’t go away.”
“No,” I whispered. “It doesn’t.”
Tristan leaned forward, poking at the fire with a stick. “Losing my dad gutted me. You’d think I’d manage my day-to-day life without trouble. I’d been on my own for a while, and yet I still don’t know how to be without him.”
I studied him. “You seem so…grounded, though.”
He smiled faintly. “Like you, I just hide it well.”
I hesitated, then said, “I don’t hide it well.”
“You do,” he said gently. “Too well.”
I blinked quickly, the stars blurring above me. “But you can talk about it. I…I think if I talk about it, I’ll fall apart.”
“Then don’t talk, Daze. Just sit with me. The stars want to be seen, isn’t that right?”
We sat there for a long time, the night deepening around us. The fire crackled softly. The air continued to cool.
I felt his hand brush mine, and I didn’t pull away. I let our fingers intertwine.
What was this?
What was I doing?
I took steady breaths, at first trying not to read too much into it, but that was impossible. When this man touched me, even in the most cautious ways, I felt it reach every part of my body.
My skin tingled from his contact. Pined for it when it left.
The fire began to die, but he didn’t feed it anymore.
The mood between us had shifted. I felt his stare deepen. Felt the way he watched me, and it wasn’t just heat I felt, but curiosity.
Eventually, he stood and offered me his hand. “Come on. Let’s get warm.”
I followed him into the van.
Tristan released the catches above us and pushed the camper’s roof up, giving the cramped interior enough height for both of us to stand.
He turned on an interior light and rummaged through his drawer of clothes, pulling out a large shirt and a pair of pants.
“You’ll be swimming in these,” he warned as he handed them to me. “Especially the pants.”
I smiled. “I don’t mind. I’ll change back into my dress in the morning.”