by J Santiago
Tristan shook his head but knew he’d bang on Caleb’s door thirty minutes before departure to make sure he was up and moving. “But pack tonight,” Tristan reminded. Loudly.
“Yeah, yeah,” he heard Caleb’s response, muffled by the walls and door.
Smiling, he opened the door to his room. He kicked off his shoes when he entered and then started the arduous task of packing. He pulled out his suitcase when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come on, C. I told you I’d—” He opened it to find Robert standing there.
“Cinderella’s chariot hasn’t turned into a pumpkin yet,” Robert said.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed, and he looked down the hall, first in one direction and then the other. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
Ever stoic, Robert said, “Fancy a walk on the beach?”
He leaned against the jamb and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked Robert up and down. “You’re not really my type.”
“I know three hundred fifty-seven different ways to kill a man,” Robert returned, deadpan.
“I’ll just get my shoes.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
Tristan grabbed his trainers and slipped them on, even as Robert started walking down the hall without him. He hurried to catch up and followed him down the stairwell. They didn’t talk down the five flights of stairs, through the lobby, or out onto the boardwalk. When they reached the beach, Robert stopped and waved his hand, indicating the way he should go.
Tristan stepped into the sand but turned to Robert. “I was just kidding, you know.”
“I wasn’t.”
Tristan laughed. “Of course you weren’t.”
Then, he left Robert and his dry humor behind to go find Ele.
There were two people sitting at the now-abandoned firepit. Ele and her second bodyguard, who Tristan hardly interacted with.
“Hey,” he said into the night, trying to catch her attention.
She turned right away and then spoke softly to her companion. He nodded and walked to Tristan. Stepping aside, they passed each other, and Tristan strode on, the disappointment from earlier trampled by excitement.
He didn’t even speak, just pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He held on to her, loving the feel of her in his embrace. Her hat was gone, and her hair hung loose down her back. She ducked her head, so it rested on his chest.
“Cinderella, huh?” he teased.
“What?” Confused, she leaned back, so she could see him. But then it must have registered because she smiled. “Is that how Robert got you down here?”
“He made some mention of it. Right before he told me how many ways he knew to kill a man.”
She laughed. “What did you say for him to feel he had to enumerate for you?”
“I might have told him he wasn’t my type.”
“You’re playing with fire, Davenport.”
“I got that.”
“Do you feel like walking? I know you’re probably tired, but I’m strangely not.”
He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, interlocking their fingers. She turned, and they meandered down toward the water. They walked aimlessly along the shoreline, content with the quiet company.
“You surprised me tonight,” he finally said.
“Good surprise?”
“Of course. It would have been better if I could have acknowledged you or spent any time with you or … I don’t know … touched you.”
“I wanted all of those things.”
“No panic attacks?”
He hadn’t asked her about them. Because every moment he’d been with her recently, he’d been more interested in getting inside of her. Bringing up the painful things she carried was like asking to help with the burden, and he wasn’t sure they were there. The dossier Robert had given him lay unopened, stuffed away in the tiny safe in his room.
Ele missed a step in her walking, the easy pace momentarily interrupted.
When she didn’t answer, Tristan said, “Should I have not asked?”
She stopped, and when he pulled up, she turned to face him. “I haven’t had one since the changing room at St. Peter’s.”
“Really? What’s normal for you?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, biding time. “I don’t know if there is a normal.”
“Does it happen often?”
“Enough that it feels like it. I used to count the days in between. Every day without one seemed like a victory. It was like a mind game. At the end of the day, when I didn’t have one, I would have a one-person party or, if Jamie was around, a two-person party.”
He thought telling her about the file, seeing if it would get her to talk to him. But he stopped himself. This thing between them had an expiration date. They started walking again, by some silent, mutual agreement.
“We leave for Colorado Springs in the morning.”
“Oh? That’s a change in the plan, right?”
“It is. Even though this is our home base for the duration of the tournament, Nico wants to train at altitude since our next game is in Denver.”
“So, I won’t see you.”
“No.”
She stopped again. “Were you going to tell me?”
“I was going to tell Robert.”
“I thought the sex part would be hard for me. I didn’t realize the intimacy would be so difficult.”
Tristan laughed. Then, when he saw the flash of hurt on her face, he worked hard to contain it. He understood what she was trying to say. They seemed to do things backward and upside down. He’d been briefed by the people who cared most about her, but he still didn’t know what had caused her to be the way she was. He had the means to find out, but he preferred for her to tell him. But he also realized he was afraid to know. He didn’t want to feel any more connected to her than he already did. It was way too much to think about for a protracted shag.
Instead, he sidled closer to her and slid his hands around her waist. He let the space remain between them, giving her the choice of closing the distance or adding more. She peered up at him, indecisive. And he got it. There were words left between them, words neither were ready to commit to. But kissing, the physical intimacies—those they’d mastered.
She stepped to him and relief swamped him. Anticipation built in his stomach as her hands slid up his chest to wrap around his neck. But when she lifted her chin and placed her lips against his, the onslaught of her heated kiss took over. He pulled her closer to him, fitting her body against his in the way it seemed to be made for. His tongue demanded entry, and when he sank into her mouth, it didn’t matter that this was temporary or that she didn’t want to share or that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He absolutely wanted this, her. This he could focus on, so he didn’t have to contemplate how much he enjoyed her wit, how he loved the way she’d interacted with Annalise, how much he hated the thought of her being afraid of anything. When he touched her, it only had to be about this attraction and the way he felt when he was inside her.
He didn’t know how long they’d been kissing with the water lapping behind them. But when they came up for air, her lips were swollen and damp, and he wanted to dive right back in. Except there was curfew and a flight tomorrow and his responsibility to his teammates.
“I have to get back,” he said, regret heavy in his voice.
“Me too.” She smiled.
They turned around, lacing their fingers together again.
“Is Robert meeting you at the boardwalk?”
“Yes. And I have a phone now,” she said.
He looked over at her. “A phone with a number you know?”
A sheepish smile. “Yes.”
This time, Tristan stopped abruptly. He pulled out his phone and said, “What is it?”
She rattled off the number, and he added it.
“Don’t put my name,” she reminded.
He held out the contact information, so she could see it.
She laughed wh
en she saw what he typed.
“Come on.”
“Can I see the picture of Annalise and me from earlier?”
He quickly scrolled through and held the phone up for her. Then, he swung around behind her, so he could see it too. It was kind of perfect really. With their unplanned matching yellow dresses and their warmhearted smiles.
“Is it okay if I have a picture of you on my phone? You seem a bit …” He paused. “Is paranoid too strong a word?”
“No, it’s not too strong; it’s pretty accurate. And, yeah, I think this picture is fine.”
“What about one of us? Right now? Something to get me through until you get to Colorado. Wait, are you coming to Colorado?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes, we are coming to Colorado. We have a couple of different plans, so I don’t know the details yet. And I’m not sure about the picture.”
Ele looked out at the water, having some internal debate. Then, she nodded but like it was to herself.
“One picture,” she said.
Tristan wrapped his arms around her waist and held the phone up above them. “Ready?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
Click.
15
3 July
Denver, Colorado
“Would you be terribly disappointed if I went to the game?” Jamie asked via FaceTime.
“Yes.” No! It was a complete relief.
She wasn’t as comfortable here, not quite settled in, and it made her jittery. Facing a new stadium, a different protocol was too much. But she didn’t want to worry Jamie.
“Sorry, love, but I don’t think I will be able to make another until the finals. I need to make an appearance. And frankly, I don’t think this will be the last game.”
“I know. Go. Have fun. Make notes for Robert.” As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back.
“Make notes for Robert,” he repeated, his voice trailing off. Jamie knew her too well.
And when his eyes narrowed in accusation and the expression on his face registered his hurt, she couldn’t help but be sorry. He tugged on his right ear—his frustrated tell. The public probably didn’t know it because his face gave nothing away, but she knew.
“Ele.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. She knew.
“Honestly, I’ve been good. I haven’t had any episodes. I even went solo to a party last week.”
“I heard, and I was so proud. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but I wished I could have been there for your celebration.”
Ele smiled fondly, remembering their victory parties. The favors ranged from cupcakes to cava and anything in between. Mostly, it depended on what was handy. Although they’d been toasting her normalcy, it was a bit much to go too far out of the way. Applauding mediocrity was strange enough. Then, her mind jumped to the kisses she’d shared with Tristan on the beach. She liked Tristan’s version a tad bit better.
“I don’t think you would have wanted to be there for it this last time.”
Jamie flushed pink before covering his eyes. “Please, love, no visuals.”
Ele cackled wickedly. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.” Jamie grew quiet. “He makes you happy.” It was a statement, a declaration. Not a question.
Even through the flat of a screen, Jamie saw it. And Ele enjoyed it. She liked being the happy one, the one who walked into a room with a secret smile and an aura of joy.
There were smatterings of worry for her though. Her independent sensibilities railed against the startling fact that the introduction of one person into her sphere could completely settle her in a way she hadn’t experienced in such a long time. Because what would happen when said person disappeared? Or worse, what if something happened to him? She knew she had to find a way to achieve calm on her own. But she had struggled to do just that over the last decade but to no avail. She’d had moments since St. Peter’s when all the warning signs converged to form the perfect storm of panic, but she’d remember the feel of Tristan’s hands on her face and the instant when his warmth and strength had seeped into her. It was all it took to center her, to restore her equilibrium.
“Yes,” she finally said.
Jamie smiled. But it was public Jamie. So, Ele took the time to really look at her brother.
She’d been so involved in her dramas that she hadn’t taken note of his flat, dull eyes. But she recognized the look. Jamie was the crown prince. He was wealthy, handsome, charming. But more than that, he was the heart of their family and nation. He possessed that quality that was so difficult to articulate, but you knew it when you were near it. Some X factor that made great men extraordinary. And yet, he wasn’t lit up from within.
She couldn’t predict the future—unfortunately—so she had no idea what would happen with Tristan, but she would forever be grateful to him for showing her what she could feel by opening the door just a little bit. She didn’t know what kind of person could love a man, knowing they would always come second to his greatest love—his country. But she hoped, for her brother, for her nation, there was someone who could unlock Jamie’s heart.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“When am I not?” came his pithy reply. “Will Jules come watch the game with you?”
“I suppose.”
Ele tried to give Jules the same consideration as she gave Jamie, but her sister was a mystery to her. It wasn’t fair, but Jules had been caught in the vortex of Ele’s personal tragedy. Ele loved baby Juliana with everything she had. Then, their parents had died, and Ele had shut off that part of her heart, always keeping Juliana at a safe distance.
Like a switch being flicked, a thought occurred to her. “Is it my fault?” she asked quite suddenly.
“What’s that?”
“All the crazy schemes and … Jules’s stuff?”
Jamie glanced away. “It’s no one’s fault but Jules’s. But I do think many of her stunts are her way of trying to get your … no, not just you. Me too. Trying to get our attention. It has to be difficult for her too, you know?” He met Ele’s concerned gaze. “You and I have always had each other.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Yes, that.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Haven’t you learned by now, Ele? We all have to reach our own conclusions.”
“This phone call has been depressing as hell, Jamie.”
Jamie laughed, a real one, and Ele was better.
But the conversation stuck with her. Ele was so used to being the one everyone focused on with their worry and their machinations. She’d been self-absorbed for the better part of her adult life. Like a lens cap had been removed, when Ele looked through the viewfinder, instead of a dark spot, she saw her brother’s loneliness and her sister’s desperation.
“Millie, can you get with Noah and find out what Juliana likes?”
Millie’s questioning look shouldn’t have bothered Ele. It was an odd request. She’d never tried to please Juliana before.
“Um, can you be more specific?”
“For the match, I thought we’d get snacks and drinks.” She smoothed her hands down her slacks. “But I honestly have no idea what Juliana likes. I don’t know much about her,” she admitted.
This time, Millie hid her surprise better. In fact, if Ele hadn’t known her, she would have appeared completely unfazed.
But with Millie’s ever-efficient ways, by the time Juliana and Ele sat with Harry, Noah, Robert, Millie, and Matthew, the place was stocked with what Ele found out were her sister’s favorites: wings—who knew?—some dips, and beer. Juliana didn’t look at her funny or question the change in the dynamic. Rather, she lapped up the attention and spoiling, feasting on the scraps of Ele’s interest.
“You’ve been Americanized,” Ele teased her.
“I have,” Juliana admitted. “If we make it to round eight though, I think we need to go traditional.”
“Can’t mess with the precedent,” Harry, J
uliana’s assistant, interjected. “If we win today, eating wings, you’ll have to eat them all the way through.”
Ele’s nose wrinkled inadvertently.
Robert must have seen her face because he bit off a smile.
“We’ll be at the match, so we won’t have a choice,” Ele reminded the assembled.
“Here they come,” Juliana said.
Everyone in the room turned to the television to watch the players take the field. The camera panned up, like someone was on their knees with it, over the faces of the team. Ele waited for the shot of Tristan. When he flashed across the screen, she grinned.
She hadn’t seen him since they left each other on the beach. But with her new phone, she’d been able to talk to him almost every night. It was reverse dating. The phone conversations helped with the intimacy. She could say things to him and ask him questions they hadn’t actually had time for yet. The basics really. Questions about his family, his friends. He’d told her about the day he signed with Hartesfield United, and even though she hadn’t been with him, she’d enjoyed every emotion he expressed. His surprise, his complete joy, the realization of his dream.
She knew him better today than she had last week. Not just because of the conversations either. As much as it bothered her, she’d gathered little pieces of him from his social media posts too. And while she could appreciate the knowledge she’d gained, she hated that he’d shared it with the entire world. When over one hundred thousand people knew something about you, it was no longer special. For Ele, with fortified walls and security locks around her heart, the desire to put it all out there bewildered her.
They all stood when the national anthem played, and then the team took to the pitch. Ele, the least knowledgeable in the room, wanted to ask questions, but she didn’t want to interrupt anyone. So, she sat in silence, eyes glued to Tristan.
It was the forty-third minute when it happened. A loud bang sounded discordantly on the TV, reminiscent of a cannon’s boom. Ele jumped, as if a skeleton had popped out at her in a haunted house, with surprise more than fear. As she continued to watch, some people ran onto the pitch. But not familiar enough with the workings of the match, it took her longer than the rest of the spectators in the room to understand that something wasn’t right.
