CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tristan was devastating when he sang. He captured an audience wherever he went.
I’d only been on the road with him for a month, and it felt like forever. At the same time, I felt the hours slipping by. A desperate itch settled in my being, a determination to do everything I could with those hours.
I had spent too much of my life wasting time.
Time that was robbed from me.
Time I would never get back.
I owed it to myself to make it up somehow. I knew everything would eventually come crashing down on me. I might as well make the most of it before the inevitable happened.
We had done a lot.
Tristan had taken me to places I never would have gone on my own. Through rain or shine, beneath starry skies or foggy nights, we had spent every night together—sometimes in his camper, sometimes in roadside motels or hotels where we could recharge, clean up, and feel human again.
We hiked trails that left our legs aching and our lungs burning, but the views always made it worth it. We ate crappy food from gas stations and diners but also splurged on restaurant meals when the mood struck.
He taught me how to play a few chords on his guitar, and I tried—God, I tried—but I was terrible. Still, he never laughed. He just smiled and said, “You’re better than you think.”
I wasn’t.
But I liked that he believed it.
We laughed so hard my ribs ached. We argued about petty little things that ended up resolved between the sheets. We kissed until our lips were raw and our breaths became one. We slept tangled together in the back of his van, our limbs intertwined like we were afraid of waking up alone.
And now, here we were.
In another town, smaller than the others but still filled with that beautiful mountain charm I hadn’t grown tired of.
We had been at the pub for some time. We’d eaten a light dinner, and then he found a chair on the patio and sang beneath the summer night sky.
“He’s dreamy, that one,” a server said, stopping beside me. “A catch.”
I smiled faintly at her. “He is.”
She looked at me for a beat. “You both look good together.”
I looked back at her, feeling my cheeks heat. “Thank you.”
It was the first time someone had said that. Had looked at us both and remarked that we looked good together.
Tristan wasn’t extravagant. He didn’t care what he wore, and he didn’t try to be anything. He wasn’t putting on a show and…
I wasn’t either.
Somewhere over the past few weeks, I had stopped caring what people thought.
It didn’t bother me that my hair wasn’t pin-straight or that I didn’t have a shred of makeup on my face.
The sun flushed my cheeks every day, and I didn’t panic about sun damage or not having expensive creams at my bedside to apply every night.
I was just living.
Relaxed and in the moment.
And maybe the server saw the same relaxed demeanor in me that she saw in Tristan.
Maybe we really did flow together.
Look good together—
My heart tightened at the thought. I closed my eyes and breathed.
With only his guitar and powerful voice, he sang “Hear Me Now” by Zeeba. The chorus dreamily drifted toward me, full of light, fading fear, and the desperate need to be heard.
I rocked gently to his voice as I stood near the back, my arms crossed over my chest, soaking up the moment.
Pain lanced through me when I opened my eyes and looked at Tristan.
He was staring back at me, his eyes heavy and full of want.
He always found me in a crowd.
It felt like we were alone in a room together, the way he watched me. I could feel the eyes of others drift our way, and then it was too much.
Too intimate and real.
So damn real.
We were moving too fast, and I didn’t know how to put the brakes on it when my heart was thinking for my head.
Fear and panic slammed into me.
The shocking reality I was now in.
My choices—
I swallowed down a lump and turned away, escaping from his voice and his eyes. I strode through the pub, eager to leave and run, and maybe I should tell Tristan to move along.
I could stay right here in this town. I could find a job and start over, and the past could be just that—the past.
I stood in the parking lot for some time, my back pressed against the camper. I tried to catch my breath, but I wound up staring at the blurring sky and wanting to make sense of everything.
Where did I belong in this beautiful cosmos?
Because I certainly didn’t feel deserving of all this.
Not after—
“Daze.”
I lowered my head at the sound of his voice.
I felt him approach slowly, cautiously, as if he were worried I might run away. He set his guitar on the ground, leaning it against the camper, and then he stood there, a few feet from me, piercing me with his stunning blue eyes.
I couldn’t keep pretending.
My lips trembled. I swallowed and whispered, “I have a boy.”
He didn’t answer.
I wasn’t brave enough to look at him.
A tear fell. “I love him more than life. He is my everything.”
I was panting. Tristan breathed calmly, his body completely still.
“I’m a mother.”
At this, I finally looked up at him.
I couldn’t read his expression. He simply stared at me like he was waiting for me to continue.
“Is he safe?” he asked.
The question struck something deep inside me. My breath caught, and I looked away.
“I can’t talk about that. Please.”
His face tightened, but he nodded slowly.
“I just thought you’d like to know,” I added. “So we don’t…you know, so we don’t pretend this is something more than it really is.”
“What is it really?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I think we’re moving fast. Don’t you?”
He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t think we were moving fast enough.”
I let out a shuddering breath. “You can’t say things like that, Tristan. They’re red flags.”
His brows pinched. “Red flags?”
“We’re moving too fast—”
“So what?”
“You don’t even know me!”
“I’ve been trying my fucking hardest to for the past few weeks.”
I winced. “And you swear so much—”
“So fucking what?”
I shrugged. “I’m just saying, Tristan. You swear so much.”
His gaze darkened. “You’re looking for an excuse to push me away.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.” His jaw tensed, and then he took a step closer. “You fix things by running away from them, and now you’re itching to run from me because you’re fucking scared.”
My lips parted in surprise.
I wanted to argue that it wasn’t true, but I clamped my mouth shut.
A few patrons left the pub, laughing and yammering away. Tristan turned his head to watch them meander down the sidewalk.
Then he looked back at me and glowered.
“It doesn’t bother me that you have a son. It bothers me that it took you this fucking long to tell me about him.”
“We are so different, Tristan—”
“Who fucking cares?”
“I thought we’d have a fling.”
He gritted his teeth. “This isn’t a fucking fling to me. I told you that from the start.”
I didn’t reply.
He watched me, and the irritation in him immediately ebbed away as he asked tightly, “Are you thinking of leaving? Is that why you’re saying all this? You’re planning to go.”
“No—”
“Are you going back to your son—”
“There is no going back!”
My voice was shrill.
High-pitched.
Almost a scream but filled with so much anguish and pain.
Hot tears fell down my face like a tap had burst. I stared at him, wide-eyed, knowing I was coming apart.
Tristan raised both hands slowly, like I might bolt if he moved too fast.
“Daze.”
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
My chest kept jerking around every breath, and my fingers had curled so tightly that my nails bit into my palms.
“We’ll slow it down,” he said carefully. “I’ll give you space. Just…don’t run. Not from me.”
I stared at him like he was the danger and the only safe thing in the room.
My heart couldn’t decide what it wanted first.
Escape or him.
I wanted to scream at him for being so calm. I wanted to grab his shirt and make him stay. I wanted to tell him everything, every ugly piece of it, and then take it all back before he could look at me differently.
But all that came out was a whisper.
“I’m scared.”
Tristan didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, but only a little. “I know.”
“I’m not trying to push you away,” I said. My throat tightened around every word. “I just…I reacted badly. I panicked. I promised I wouldn’t wig out, and here I am, wigging out. Again.”
I swallowed hard.
“I didn’t know how to say…”
“Say what?”
“That I don’t want to slow things down either,” I admitted. “I just don’t know how to do this, Tristan. I’ve never had someone like you. Someone…who makes me feel like I’m not damaged.”
His eyes softened. “You’re not damaged.”
“I feel like I am.”
He took another step, and I didn’t move.
I let him come closer.
“I pushed too hard,” he said. “I won’t drag it out of you, Daze. Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”
I blinked rapidly, the tears falling freely now. “You won’t like me when this is over.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched.
“Be scared, then,” he said. “Take whatever time you need. Just don’t decide for me that I’m better off without you.”
Then he closed the final distance between us.
His arms wrapped around me, firm and protective, and I collapsed into him. My face buried in his chest, his scent surrounding me and his heartbeat steady against my cheek.
“Impossible,” he responded gruffly.
Without any intention of letting me go, he held me tightly, and I let myself be held, wishing the anguish away.
Wanting it cut out of me.
The past continued to press along the borders of my being.
Punishing.
Fighting.
Trying to worm itself into the present.