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Then she woke again and he was talking to a woman in a maid’s outfit. She was handing him a paper bag. A phone rang. She started to wade in to sharper consciousness slowly.
She heard him say, “Right, we’ll be there in a few hours.”
“Where?” she asked softly.
He lifted her hair off her face gently.
“Hey, how’re you feeling?” He looked so relieved.
“Hey. Really tired. Thirsty. I have to pee.”
“I’ve packed up. I’m gonna carry you to the car.”
“Why? What’s going on?” she felt so groggy.
“I’ve chartered a plane to get us the rest of the way. It’s risky but this is the best way for us to get to Adrian’s quickly after what’s happened.”
“What’s happened?”
“Fuck, baby…”
“What?” She tried to sit up. She felt so weak. Her head was pounding.
Tristan looked tormented.
“It was an accident. You didn’t eat, didn’t replenish your strength and I fed too much. Your emotions kept urging me to take more and I…” he shook his head, “I had trouble stopping.”
Kyla felt spinny. Tristan passed her a bottle of water.
“Just a few sips. Go slow,” he said, “Take this.” He passed her three different pills with a bottle of Gatorade.
“What are they?”
“B vitamin. Multivitamin. Gravol, to help you keep it down.”
It seemed, after a few sips and a few breaths, that it would stay down so she got up to go to the washroom, feeling really weak.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Yuck. The horror! Her hair was a rat’s nest. Her skin was ghostly white.
“You put clothes on me?” she called out.
“Twice. You’ve been burning up, cold sweats. It was bad. You were out over 24 hours, close to a day and a half.”
She poked her head out from the bathroom and gave him a small smile. He didn’t return it. He looked stressed.
“Can I get a shower before we go? My hair is like a rat’s nest.”
“Yeah, we have a few minutes if you’re quick. I’ll join you. I don’t want you alone in case you faint again.”
The shower was all business. Tristan was attentive, though, washing her back, scrubbing her hair while she leaned, sometimes against him, sometimes against the wall, still feeling weak.
She got out and then he did his own washing while she dried off, sitting on the toilet lid. After she got dressed in black short cargo shorts and a new red tank top with a crocheted light cardigan hoodie, he loaded the rental car with their bags and she told him she was fine to walk, so he held her hand as she followed him to the front desk to check out.
Half an hour later, they were at an airport and then not long after that they were on a small plane with a dozen seats, just the two of them with the pilot and co-pilot.
He was quiet, staring out into the abyss outside the small window, still holding her hand. He hadn’t let go. He hadn’t cracked a smile. He was so tense that she felt herself cowering at the overpowering tension emanating off him.
“Hey?” she asked after a long while.
He looked at her. His face was filled with what looked like pain.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. How you feelin’?” He straightened and his expression relaxed a little.
“Okay. Like I have a hangover a little. But okay.”
He nodded but flexed his jaw a few times.
“What’s happening, anyway?”
He shrugged, “Just wanna get you there and figure out what’s what. I don’t like what happened. I… got carried away. You hardly ate anything that day. You were pissed off at me in the car so you barely ate anything, the way you tend to do when you’re pissed, and even though you skipped dinner I took a big feed and then again in the morning, and …” He shook his head, looked supremely pissed. “Your body wanted it, wanted me to keep going and I listened so I lost control. I can’t let that happen again, no matter what emotions you give off. You need to look after yourself and I need to look after you. I need to check my fuckin’ self.”
He ran his hand through his hair, “I was so fucking scared,” he said in barely a whisper, “This last day has been one of the longest in my life. Called Adrian. He recommended I rush you there. That’s what we’re doing. I don’t like the breadcrumb trail with Liam on the loose and I sure as fuck don’t like Adrian getting any sort of upper hand before I can truly suss things out, but fuck.”
She winced.
“I’m so fucking sorry, princess. So sorry.”
He put his head down in a defeated posture.
She snuggled into him, “I’m okay.”
“Barely.”
She put a hand on his neck and tried to give him a little massage. The tension didn’t leave his body. At all.
