The first step onto the ladder makes me want to throw up. It’s nailed to the tree, but each rung is narrow and slick from use.
“So when did it start?” Tristan’s voice comes from below me.
“The fear?” I take another step down, following his voice. My wrist twinges, but I ignore it. “When I was little, I guess. We had a school trip when I was ten. To an obstacle course like this one. It was a mother-daughter thing.” My stomach rolls. At the memory or the height, I’m not sure. I focus on Tristan’s steady breaths. I’m going painfully slow.Is he still there?I twist to look, but my foot slips—
“I’m here,” he says quietly before his hand lands on my thigh, steadying me. “Take it easy. Who went with you?”
“No one. David was busy that day with a job.”
“So you went alone.” Tristan’s voice is flat.
I frown. “That’s not the point. I froze when I got to one of the obstacles. We weren’t that high up, but I was paralyzed. I sat on the platform for hours, until it got dark.”
“And no one came for you?”
The breath catches in my throat. “Eventually, yes. The teachers realized I was there and came back to help me down.”
We’re a mere five steps from the bottom. Tristan’s feet hit the ground with a thump, then his hands come to my waist as I take the remaining steps with shaky legs.
“I can do it on my own,” I tell him, even though it feels good to have the support.
His eyes are blazing when I turn to look at him. “But you shouldn’t have to. Someone should have been there for you back then too.”
The words make a pit yawn inside of me. “That’s nice, Tristan, but it’s not how life works. You have to make your own way, because most of the time, no one is coming.”
I tip up my chin. Tristan wouldn’t understand. He’s had a lifetime of close family and unwavering support. He doesn’t realize that counting on someone gets harder and harder each time they fail you, more devastating each time your hopes are dashed. The harder you cling, the more they pull away and the worse it is when things end.
His jaw clenches. I shiver under his focus.
“You should have called me today. Before you got hurt. I would have come.”
“And interrupt your date?”
“Damn the date,” he says before he takes a step forward. “I will come for you. If you call me, I’ll be there.”
I swallow at the intensity of his gaze. This isn’t the Tristan I know. I’m used to a teasing, charming friend, not this man who is calm, forceful, maybe even a little arrogant.A protector. CEO of Prince Bourbon. Heir to the Prince family fortune. My heart does a little skip in my chest.
I will come for you.
I so badly want to rely on him, but as much as I want to believe it, I know even people with the best intentions will disappoint you.
20
KATIE
When we get home, we go straight to Tristan’s. He shoves papers under other papers and swipes up scattered pens when we get into his kitchen. I smile to myself at the barely organized chaos. Outside of the areas where he has visitors, his house looks like his brain. A million interests going a million miles an hour. My chest warms with affection for him. He’s curious and passionate and a little bit wild.
I like that I get to be the person who sees behind the scenes.
We wash our hands side by side in his kitchen sink.
“Who wants to go first?” He holds up a roll of gauze and a bottle of whiskey.
I choke a laugh. “Or we could go to the urgent care like normal people.”
His brow wrinkles. “Why would we do that?”
“Far too normal.” The hospital is also the perfect place for paparazzi, which we avoid at all costs.
