Chapter Seventeen #2
She rubs off her elbows where rocks stick to them, and I follow her gaze to her knees when she winces. Ellie nudges into her softly, a small whine leaving her. Tris reassures her that everything’s alright, but she only had one hand to stop her fall, and I notice a scrape on her chin.
“Here, let me see.” I reach out to take her face into my hand, but she jerks back.
My hand is still extended toward her face as we stare at each other, locked in, neither of us speaking, as the air between us buzzes with an unspoken mess of emotions.
“You did that on purpose!” Rory’s voice is almost unrecognizable as she glares at the woman sitting at the table behind Tris.
The woman scans Rory up and down like she’s unimpressed.
Lifting her chin, she looks down her nose at her with a smirk.
“Who are you supposed to be? Look at that hair.” She laughs, looking at the man who sits with a grin across from her, then back at Rory.
“You look like you fell into a bin of cotton candy. Seriously, sweetie, don’t you own a mirror? ”
“Ha,” Rory snaps, eyes sharp and glare deadly. “That’s supposed to be funny, right? You think you’re funny?”
The woman’s brow twitches and her smile falters slightly as Rory continues.
“You see, cotton candy is supposed to be sweet.” Rory’s chin dips as she leans in slightly, a slow smile creeping onto her lips. “But I’m not.”
Before anyone can register Rory’s movements, she grabs the iced coffee from the table and dumps it onto the woman’s head.
The woman stands, screaming, and Tris quickly rises to her feet, wincing as each movement hurts, while I fight the urge to reach for her again and give her my support. Ainsley rushes out onto the patio, and Rory reaches for Tris, her demeanor losing its sharpness as she looks her over, too.
“You stupid, pink-haired bitch!”
Tris’s arm shoots out, shifting Rory’s body behind her until she’s squeezed between the two of us.
“That’s enough, Vianna,” Tris warns, and beside her, a low growl rumbles from Ellie.
The man at the table looks at Tris with an air of superiority and scoffs.
I grind my teeth together, doing my best to keep my mouth shut until I understand what’s going on.
She clearly knows both of them, but how is still unclear.
Rory shifts in an attempt to go around Tris, but I place my hand on her shoulder, stopping her, and give a quiet command for Ellie to heel, grateful when she listens.
“Enough?” Vianna laughs, an ugly, shrill sound. “I don’t think so. Are you the manager?” she asks Ainsley.
“Yes?” Ainsley treads lightly, clearly still playing catch-up.
Every nerve inside me is lit up right now, my adrenaline skyrocketing. I want to make sure that Tris is okay. I want to know who the hell these two assholes are and what they think they’re doing.
Vianna wrings her coffee-soaked hair out, causing a smug smile to rest on both mine and Rory’s faces. I’ve got to give it to her. She keeps surprising me and clearly can hold her own.
“I want that one fired.” Vianna points to Rory. “Look what she did to me. My clothes are ruined.”
“Oh, no.” Ainsley’s hand covers her chest, and she looks around at the mess that’s surrounding us.
Food still covers the patio, and anyone looking at Tris can tell that she’s the one who went down.
Her hair is disheveled, her knees both scraped up, there’s some sort of stain on her apron, and I’m still worried about that scratch on her chin, though it’s probably nothing.
Ainsley looks between Rory and Tris, and I swear I see the moment that she puts it together.
Something inside Rory settles, and her shoulders relax under my hand, but my attention is still on Tris, who looks as though any second now she’s going to snap.
“Bless your heart, dear. It looks to me like accidents have been happening all around,” Ainsley says, emphasizing her country drawl further than I’ve ever heard as she smiles at her.
“Accidents?” Vianna gasps. “That was no accident! Do you know who I am?”
“Well, dear, I don’t believe either of us can walk on water, so as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t really matter who you are.”
Vianna scoffs. “I want charges pressed. That was assault.”
Tris opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. I don’t know who this woman is, but I’ve had enough of her bullshit to last a lifetime.
“You’re right,” I say, shocking our little group. “I saw the whole thing, and I agree.”
Tris glares at me from over her shoulder, but doesn’t turn her back on Vianna, who begins to smile.
“Sergeant Hadley,” I continue, raising my brow with a smirk as Tom gets up from our table and joins us. “It was an assault, this woman is correct. I saw her stick her foot out with the intent to harm Miss Thorne here.”
“Is that so, Captain King?” Tom responds, shifting his hands to push his flannel over, displaying his badge on his waist.
Vianna’s face drops in a way I’ve only ever seen in movies. Rory ducks her head into her chest and stifles a laugh.
“Tris,” Tom stands beside her and places his arm over her shoulders, causing her to stiffen slightly. “Would you like to press charges against this woman?”
Tris looks at him with slightly widened eyes that gradually fill with gratitude before she crosses her arms, juts her chin out, and zeroes in on Vianna. “I might have to.”
Vianna sneers.
“You will not do such a thing,” the man says, who, up until now, has been quiet. He says something to Vianna that I can’t understand, but sounds like it might be French, and she laughs and looks at Tris.
Whatever it was, it’s clear by the shade of red crossing Tris’s cheeks that she understood.
“Alright,” I grunt, stepping around and in front of everyone. “It’s time for the two of you to leave.”
The guy looks like he’s about to say something, but before he gets a chance, I glare down at him.
“It wasn’t a request,” I growl out.
They both huff as they gather their things and walk away, getting into an overly priced-looking car, and driving off. No one moves until they’re gone. Everyone erupts all at once. Everyone but me and Tris. Her eyes narrow on mine, and I stare back at her, matching her intensity.
“What in the hell happened out here?” Ainsley asks.
“I made sure that woman knows to never mess with Tris again. That’s what happened,” Rory says. “That was the ex-best friend and boyfriend stealer, right?”
Tris nods her head at her and places a hand on Tom’s arm, thanking him as I process what I just heard.
That was Tris’s ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend?
Those were the types of people she hung out with? They acted like enemies, not people whom she once considered to hold such important titles in her life. No wonder she’s so guarded when it comes to letting people in.
“Don’t mention it.” Tom tilts his head down and turns to Ainsley. “But if there’s any food left in the kitchen, a plate of just about anything would be nice.”
“Ope.” Rory jumps. “We’ll get right on that.”
Rory and Ainsley leave to grab us some food, and Tom sits back at our table, taking Ellie with him, leaving Tris and me alone.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, a sharp ache blooming behind my breastbone.
“Why? Because now you suddenly care?” she retorts, and I hate the way I notice how she purses her lips to hide the tremble underneath.
“Tris... I’m...” I pause for a second too long, searching for the right words to say, but they don’t come.
“I don’t need you to start pretending now,” she emphasizes the last word, her voice laced with hurt and anger.
She turns to walk away, but I catch her wrist and hold on tight, pulling her back.
“You’re one to talk,” I throw back at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, yanking her wrist from my hand.
I squeeze my fists at my sides. This isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go, but here we are once again at each other’s throats.
I clench my jaw and look away. I don’t want to argue with her, but she makes it so easy to.
I want to fix this, but I’m getting further and further from seeing how the hell I’m supposed to do that.
“Don’t shut up now. Say what you need to say. I think I’ve waited long enough to hear it, don’t you? Not that I care what you have to say.” Her shoulders tense, despite her steady tone, and it’s the only tell I have that she’s more affected by this conversation than she’s letting on.
A short mocking laugh escapes me as I shake my head. “That’s right, Tris. You’ve got this whole town believing you’re nothing but thorns when the reality is you’re actively trying to keep everyone away.”
“What the hell do you know?” she snaps. Her eyes narrow on me, but as she stares back into mine, they begin shimmering like glass.
“You’re a rose, beautiful and fragile. Soft in all the right ways and strong enough to stand alone. But knowing that hasn’t helped you. It’s made you forget that you don’t have to.”
Her breath catches, and her watery eyes bounce between mine.
“You’ve let those thorns grow until even you don’t know what’s buried underneath.
And it makes sense. You’ve been surrounded all your life by people who were waiting for you to fail.
” I point to the now-empty table where her “friends” sat.
“Hoping for it by the looks of things. Careful that those thorns don’t keep the people who want to be there for you away. ”
She swallows hard. Her eyes widen, yet her brows remain furrowed. Slowly, her head begins to shake. “Can you blame me? Look what happened when I trusted you.”
Her words are direct and hit their mark. Good. She should be angry with me.
I’m an asshole.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but the words sound empty even to me.
She scoffs. “Whatever.”
“I took everything,” I blurt out before she can walk away.
This stops her.
I take in a deep breath and continue. “Everything I’ve been feeling. Every fucked up emotion, and I took it out on you.” My throat tightens. “I used you. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I wanted that!” she snaps.
I jerk back, frowning. “Why?”
Her face scrunches, and she looks up to the sky before looking back over me. “Somehow, I’m the one who feels dumb that you even have to ask.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
Tris rolls her eyes and leaves me standing here staring after her. Rory wraps her arm around her as she reaches the door, and I drop back into my chair, caught somewhere in a daze.
“That was rough,” Tom mutters after a minute of us sitting together in silence.
I blink a few times at him, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
Tom sighs. “You really are terrible at this.”
“Shut up, Tom. I don’t need this right now.”
“Trust me, you do, because you’re obviously horrible at realizing when a woman has actual feelings for you. Specifically, Tris.”
“Yeah, those feelings are hatred.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t hatred.”
I keep replaying our conversation in my mind like a punishment that I won’t let myself escape.
Every word, the look on her face. It spins in my head, still raw and jagged, and the worst part is.
.. Tom might be right. I’ve spent the last month drowning in guilt, convincing myself I used her, then had the gall to accuse her of being the one to keep people at a distance.
I told myself she didn’t know how to let people in, that she didn’t want to.
But sitting here now, with the echo of her voice lodged in my chest, the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears, I see it.
That’s exactly what she wanted from me.
Not distance. Not just friendship.
She wanted in, and I’ve been too damn scared and buried with my ghosts to give her the one thing she’s wanted all along.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuckkk.” My head drops into my hands.
“There it is,” Tom drawls.
Ainsley carries our food out in a to-go bag with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Tom. It’s nothin’ personal, but it’s already been a long mornin’.” Her eyes slide over me, lingering for half a second before she sighs and looks back at him. “He’s gotta go.”
“I get it, Ainsley.” Tom smiles, and she seems to relax before walking away.
“And this is why we can’t have nice things,” Tom grumbles at me once she’s gone. “Come on, we can eat at your place.”
The rest of this week has only gotten worse.
By the time my next shift comes around, not only am I emotionally wrecked, but my body has decided to turn against me as well.
I had a feeling I might be coming down with something last night, but I thought, there’s no way.
I never get sick. Krystal used to joke around and say I must be superhuman because I never took a day off.
“Go home and get some rest.” The Chief doesn’t even bother asking me if that’s what I want to do.
He can already see I’m barely hanging on by a thread this morning, and working a Friday-to-Sunday shift when I’m not feeling good would be the worst imaginable torture.
Whatever illness I’m coming down with is begging me to close my eyes.
I’ve barely said more than two words today since getting to the firehouse. “I’ll cover for you this weekend.”
I barely manage to pick Ellie back up and make it home, but by some miracle, I do. I kick my shoes off, not caring where they end up, and crash onto the bed. If I’m lucky, I’ll finally get a few hours of much-needed sleep in.