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Calista walked in and quickly shut the door and leaned against it like she was hiding from someone. When she faced him, an uneasy sigh escaped her kissable lips. That was until her eyes landed on his bare chest. For a split second, her lips twitched before they curled up into a sneer. “Why aren’t you wearing a gown, and what are you even doing here?” Her tone bordered on exasperation and worry.
“Are you okay? Did something happen this morning?”
She shut her eyes and composed herself. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Calista,” he said, tenderly. “You can talk to me.”
“That’s not a good idea.” She walked to the sink and washed her hands with a vengeance.
Her change in demeanor between last night and this morning confused him. He thought for sure he’d made a dent in her resolve to hate him. But this morning, it appeared to be back in full force.
She turned around and trudged toward him, avoiding any opportunity of eye contact.
Forgetting propriety, he reached out and took her hand. It fit perfectly in his own. A surge of warmth went through him that spoke of him coming home. He curled his fingers around hers, silently begging her not to let go, and to remember how good they were together. More so that he was good. That he wasn’t his brother or even the coward who left her.
For a moment, her hand gripped his. She raised her head and peered into his eyes.
He saw not only the conflict raging in her gorgeous eyes but the longing that he felt in his own soul. Instinctively, he drew her closer, wanting to erase any doubts she had about him. But as soon as he did so, she pulled away and shook her hand as if trying to get rid of the feel of his touch.
“We can’t do this. You can’t come here anymore.”
He cocked his head, studying her. He knew she felt the same pull he did. “You don’t have to fear me,” he pleaded with her to hear the truthfulness in his voice.
“I do, actually.” She stepped back. “Please, if you ever cared about me, don’t come back in here when I’m working.”
“Calista,” he stammered. “What’s happened?”
She ignored him and peeked at his back. “Your cut doesn’t look infected. Just keep it dry and let it breathe as much as possible. See your regular physician next week to have the stitches removed,” she hurried to say before running out the door and slamming it behind her.
Tristan sat there dumbfounded and feeling like someone had sucked all the air out of the room. All his dreams for a merry Christmas and a happy New Year just went up in flames.
He balled up his shirt and threw it across the room. “Damn it.”
It killed that she feared him. He wished he could do something to change that. But he would do as Calista asked because he cared for her more than anyone. If that meant walking away from her, it was the least he could do, even if it was the last thing he ever wanted.
CALISTA
“THANKS AGAIN FOR COMING WITH me tonight.” I smiled over at Jules in the passenger seat of my car as we drove to the Christmas parade downtown, Friday night. I desperately needed a buffer. It was the first time I would see Tristan since the emergency room incident on Monday. Working the night shift twice this week had played in my favor, as exhausting as it was. This way, I didn’t need to upset Quinn by acting coolly toward Tristan in her presence. I had no choice but to do so. Deidra’s and my jobs were on the line. And as much as I didn’t love Aspen Lake anymore, I needed to be here for Quinn. Especially since Stella was finding any time she could to sneak off to be with Skippy, as I’d started referring to him. I thought after our little talk she would have been more present, but that was wishful thinking.
It didn’t matter that when Tristan took my hand on Monday and drew me closer to him, I ached to fall into his arms and let his lips ravish mine. Or that I had even found myself missing him this week, as ridiculous as that was. I couldn’t break my vow. Not this time. But, if he was any kind of a gentleman, he could have at least sent me a picture of my kitten on his chest. I missed Poppy. And, okay, his chiseled chest too. Seriously, I had problems. Which is why, for my sake, I finally threw my skis in the trash. I admit to shedding a tear or two as I stood there, taking them in and out of the bin a dozen times. Reason finally won out, and I said my goodbyes and let go of any crazy notions of us getting back together.
“Thanks for asking. The hospital is getting stifling,” Jules responded.
Jules’s mom had opted to go with the surgery to remove a piece of her husband’s skull. He’d survived the procedure and the swelling in his brain was going down. But he was still in and out of consciousness. He was nowhere near out of the woods.
I grinned over at her. “Well, tonight we are going to party. And by party, I mean freeze our booties off watching floats and listening to the high school marching band.”
Jules giggled. “Sounds perfect. By the way, I think I found out who Skip is.”
I knew my CIA operative could do it. Even though she was still denying she worked for the government.
“Ooh. Should I brace myself?” The entire situation gave me a bad vibe.
“Well, it all depends.”
“On what?”
She held up her phone. “Let me show you something.”
