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“So he took the plea,” I force out.
She nods and looks away. “Three to six years at SCI Burlington.”
For a crime he didn’t commit. Oh god. I’m going to be sick.
I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to absorb even a piece of this horrifying reality. Each second of our interaction since his return replays in my head. The awful way I treated him, the things I said, the abuse from everyone around him—and the whole time he took it without a word. Took it like he’s been taking it for almost five years, along with heaven knows what else in that horrific place.
And suddenly, it all comes together in a cohesive, sickening story. Kim’s implosion after the arrest. Her subsequent collapses every time she visited him. What was it like to watch someone you love going through hell and knowing it should have been you? To live with the guilt of killing one person physically and another figuratively? Because she was right earlier. Tristan is dead. At least, the cocky party boy who ruled a high school is gone. It only takes one look in his haunted eyes to see he’s been stripped and emptied. He’s just a beautiful, living carcass now.
I have so many other questions, so many emotions and thoughts to sift through, but right now, nothing seems as important as finding him. I have no idea what to do beyond that one task, but the thought of not wrapping my arms around him in the next ten seconds feels intolerable.
“Let’s go,” I say, pushing to my feet.
Kim stares at me with puffy eyes, and I give her a hard look. I can’t begin to sort out my feelings for my best friend. This whole situation is beyond fucked, but that will have to wait. We have an innocent man to find.
We head toward the back exit so we can go in the opposite direction to look for Tristan this time. We’ve just rounded the final curve in the stairwell when Kim gasps.
“Tristan!” she cries, veering to our right.
I turn, and my stomach drops. Tucked in the small space beneath the stairs is a black hoodie and jeans I recognize well. He’s created his own tiny cell to hide in. God, my heart.
Kim rushes to his side, and I swallow an ache in my throat when I see him for the first time in this new reality.
“Tristan!” she says, shaking him. Glassy eyes blink up at her. “I’m calling an ambulance!”
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, yanking his arm away.
“You scared the crap out of us,” she says. “You can’t just disappear like that. Let’s get you upstairs. It’s cold down here.”
He shakes his head and resists another attempt to pull him from his hiding place. “I just want to be alone.”
My eyes burn as I watch the war rage on his face. I can’t imagine what he’s dealing with right now. He looks decimated, slumped on the ground like he never intends to get up again. Kim is still arguing with him, causing him to withdraw further, and I tug her sleeve.
“It’s fine. He’ll be okay. Why don’t you go upstairs and make us some coffee or something.”
She turns a tortured look on me, and ice rushes through me at the layered meaning I understand for the first time.
“This should be me.”
It should. Butshouldmeans jack shit right now.
I nod a quick encouragement and silently beg her to listen. Tristan doesn’t need to be nagged. He… I don’t know what he needs. How the fuck do you fix something like this?
She finally surrenders and tosses his jacket at me as she stalks back to the stairs. We listen to her footsteps for several seconds before I approach him slowly and drop to the floor beside him. He glances over, and I shudder through another rush of pain at the anguish in his eyes. After a brief connection, he faces forward again, staring at the opposite wall.
“Kim told me,” I say quietly.
He closes his eyes, his chest rising with a fractured inhale.
“I’m sure you didn’t want me to know.”
He doesn’t respond, but I see his fingers clench in his sleeve.
“I’m sorry, Tristan. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said to you since you got back. For how I felt about you the entire time you were gone. I’m sorry that I never even questioned the story.”
“No one did,” he whispers. “No one thought for a second it might not have been me.”
God, the pain in his voice. No one. Not one person believed in him enough to fight for him. No wonder he didn’t try to change his story.
