The Reckoning Page 18

  “Don’t be.”

  They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, and Beckett was finally the one to look away. He ran a hand over his hair, and, when he looked at her again, there was regret written all over his face.

  “You should probably go. It’s not really safe for you to be here.”

  Tristan looked at him with alarm.

  “Not safe? Are you in some kind of danger, Beckett?”

  Beckett chuckled to himself.

  “No. I mean it’s not safe for you and I to be here, alone together.”

  “Oh.” Tristan’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  Beckett looked at her affectionately, and Tristan tried to pretend she wasn’t completely out of sorts. She went to move past him, but he moved the same way, and then it happened again when she tried to redirect. Beckett laughed as Tristan squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, and he stepped aside, out of her way.

  “I’ll see you Monday.”

  “See you Monday.”

  Tristan practically ran out of his house, and Beckett watched her, wishing he’d done things differently. Wishing he hadn’t let her go, or had gone after her, or had done a million things other than telling her she should leave. She'd felt right at home in his arms, and now that she was gone, his body was demanding to know why. Beckett knew that suggesting she go was the right thing to do, but that didn't assuage his regret -- this afternoon had been the first time they’d ever been truly alone together, and he knew that if it had been any of his friends in his position, they would have taken full advantage and dealt with the consequences later. He just couldn’t do that to Tristan; he couldn’t have her be something he took advantage of and then maybe discarded because he felt guilty about Eva. He also couldn’t do that to Eva, who was innocent in whatever storm was brewing between him and Tristan. What Beckett knew he had to do, however, was sort out his head and his heart, and decide between Eva, with whom things were straightforward and uncomplicated, or Tristan, who he felt he was chasing through a maze that had no guaranteed end.

  ***

  Tristan drove home, replaying the scene in Beckett’s kitchen. She couldn’t believe she had hugged him, had pulled the pin and thrown the grenade right into the middle of every rule she had for herself when it came to socializing with her peers. Worse still, she had liked it. She had more than liked it. She had touched Beckett and it’d felt like she’d come home from a long journey, his arms so familiar that it scared her. Why had he felt so familiar? Tristan was so freaked out that she nearly missed her driveway, jerking the wheel at the last minute. The car bumped over the curb and up the dirt drive, narrowly avoiding one half of the open gates, and she parked beside the house, sitting behind the wheel for a minute to try and get her wits about her.

  Apparently she sat there for more than a minute, because there was a tap on her window, and Tristan looked up to find both Olivia and Evander standing silently beside her car like the twins from The Shining.

  “We took bets on whether or not you made out with Beckett,” Evander called to her through the glass. “What’s the verdict?”

  “You two are so annoying!” Tristan snapped, pushing open the door and them out of her way.

  “I’m going with no,” Evander said to Olivia, who nodded in agreement.

  “Too bad.”

  “It looks like she agrees.”

  Tristan let out a growl of frustration and stomped into the house, right up the stairs to her bedroom. Sometimes being given siblings was the worst gift she'd ever received.

  Chapter 15

  Evander dropped Tristan off at Rise and Grind the next morning. He’d decided within the last couple of weeks that he could work around his grounding by dropping Tristan off and picking her up, and Sol and Umbris didn’t fight him on it. Tristan didn’t mind, either, enjoying the break, though drives to her early shift were not always relaxing, because Evander usually complained about being tired the whole time. Saturday was one of those mornings.

  “No one made you drive me,” Tristan finally snipped, when Evander had yawned loudly for the third time over the eight minute drive.

  “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Evander asked, by way of response, and Tristan ignored him.

  “I’m done at one-thirty,” Tristan told Evander, when he’d pulled up out front. “Don’t be late.”

  Evander made a face at her, and Tristan got out of the car, entering the shop to find Amos firing up the grill.

  “Morning Amos,” Tristan called, and Amos greeted her loudly in return. He was deaf in one ear.

  Tristan opened up the shop’s shutters, propped open the shop door, then turned on machines and restocked supplies before Ellie arrived. Their usual Saturday morning customers trickled in, and Tristan welcomed them, engaging in the small talk that was her least favorite job function. Time flew once Ellie got there, though, the duo falling into the routine that was as smooth as peanut butter for them now, and Tristan was genuinely surprised when it was time for her to go home.

  “That shift flew,” Tristan said to Ellie, removing her apron, and Ellie nodded.

  “Some days do, if we’re lucky. Forty-five more minutes for me.”

  “Good luck. I hope it goes just as quickly.”

  “Oh, Joe wanted me to ask you if you can pick up some extra shifts these next couple of weeks? Mainly nights and super early mornings. I guess he thinks it's going to get busy because of the holidays. He said to come in if you can and he'll just check your timesheet, you don't need to give him a schedule.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Tristan waved to Ellie and exited the shop, getting into the car with Evander.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey. How’d it go?”

  “Fine. How’s everything at home?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good talk.”

  Tristan and Evander exchanged a grin and rode home in silence, Evander understanding that Tristan needed to decompress for a little bit after work. When they arrived, Tristan jumped out of the car, hurrying into the house to shower and get ready for the Solstice Celebration that evening. The Celebration was different from the gathering in that it began shortly after sundown and ended shortly after midnight; Tristan was thankful for this, but it also gave her less time to get ready, seeing as how they had to drive an hour just to get there. To her family’s relief, the event was being held at the community’s old bayou near New Orleans -- apparently Orion was not up for a party just yet.

  When she’d finished in the shower, Tristan went into her room to find a black dress lying flat on her bed. It was short and sleeveless, with a full, lacy skirt, deep v-neck, and, from the waist all the way up the bodice and over the shoulders, it was covered in an intricate fabric feather detailing. The dress was gorgeous, and had to have come from Olivia -- Tristan had laid out a plain black skater dress with three-quarter sleeves and an off-the-shoulder neckline before she’d gotten in the shower.

  “I couldn’t resist,” Olivia said from behind her, and Tristan turned to see Olivia looking like a movie star. She was dressed in a long-sleeved black lace and illusion netted crop top, paired with a high-waisted, floor-length black satin skirt. Her hair was parted on the side and barrel curled, and, as usual, she was rocking a perfectly smoked eye.

  “You look amazing. I am going to look ridiculous in this,” Tristan said, looking dubiously at the dress. “What’s wrong with the dress I had picked out?”

  “It was boring. So boring it put me to sleep when I looked at it. I promise you’re going to look amazing too. Try it on; if I’m wrong, I’ll give you your boring dress back.”

  Tristan nodded reluctantly.

  “I have to blow dry my hair first. I’ll let you know when I’m dressed.”

  Olivia nodded and disappeared, and Tristan closed her bedroom door. She dried her hair and then, deciding it looked blah, swept it over one shoulder and into a loose braid. She applied mascara and her usual lip balm, hooked a pair of black beaded
chandelier earrings into her ears, and once again eyed the black dress with apprehension.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  Tristan shimmied into the dress, the bodice just a tiny bit tighter than she would have preferred. With some effort, she got it zipped, and she stood staring at herself in the mirror before calling in Olivia, who had not been wrong.

  “See?” Olivia said, reappearing in Tristan’s doorway. “Amazing.”

  “Where did you even get this?” Tristan asked.

  “Some brand sent it to me.” Olivia waved her hand. “You know I do those online makeup tutorials? They offered to send me that dress if I’d wear it in one of them. I did, but it’s just a little too big on me, so now it’s yours.”

  “It’s gorgeous.” Tristan could not stop staring at the fabric feathers, and she saw Olivia nod in the mirror. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Your shoes.” Olivia held out a pair of black leather booties with a spiked heel, which Tristan took gratefully.

  Evander appeared beside Olivia in a black suit with a black shirt and tie, and the girls complimented him on how dapper he looked. They all went to meet up with their parents downstairs -- Umbris in a tuxedo, Sol in a floor-length, glittering black sheath -- and the five of them got into the car to head to the Celebration.

  “Wait!” Olivia cried, as they drove through downtown Lavelle.

  “What’s the matter?” Umbris asked, hitting the brakes.

  “I forgot my lipstick!”

  “Seriously?” Evander asked.

  “Oh my gods, Oceana.” Tristan rolled her eyes.

  “Oceana!” Sol scolded.

  “I cannot go to this thing without lipstick. Dad. Please can we stop at the pharmacy real quick? I will be two minutes, tops. I promise.”

  “Oceana--”

  “Dad, please!” Olivia begged, her voice rising.

  On a sigh, Umbris steered into the pharmacy parking lot. Makeup was life to Olivia; there was no way out of this one.

  “Come on,” Olivia said, nudging Tristan’s arm, and Tristan made a face at her.

  “No thanks.”

  “Ugh, Trinity, just come with me. I need your opinion! And I gave you that dress, so you owe me!”

  Tristan shook her head, blowing out a breath, and got out of the car, Olivia following her. They entered the small pharmacy, sticking out like two black thumbs in their formal wear.

  “OK, so this is going to be hard. The selection sucks. Ugh, how could I have forgotten?” Olivia wailed, scanning the racks of makeup, and Tristan shook her head. She couldn’t imagine having this kind of meltdown over makeup.

  “Oh shut up,” Olivia muttered at her, and Tristan smirked.

  The bells on the pharmacy door jingled, signaling someone else’s arrival, but the girls ignored it. Olivia was in full-on crisis mode, and her stressing was stressing out Tristan.

  Beckett headed towards the back of the pharmacy, to where they kept the condoms, when he heard a familiar voice.

  “Can’t you just pick one? All four of those reds look exactly the same. No, wait, all of these reds look exactly the same.”

  “Oh my gods, Trinity. You’re blonde, which means you can wear any red. I am a redhead, so I can’t just pick one!” Beckett heard Olivia snap impatiently, and he smiled to himself.

  Mission forgotten, Beckett crept along the back wall, approaching the makeup aisle.

  “OK, I think this is the one. Yes. Now give me your face,” Olivia said, grabbing at Tristan’s face, after she’d put lipstick on herself right there in the store, and Tristan slapped her hands away.

  “No!”

  “You are really the worst sister. Give me your face!” Olivia grasped Tristan’s chin in a grip way too strong for what a petite person she was, and Tristan gave up. “Thank you. You can thank me later.”

  Olivia was applying the red lipstick to Tristan’s top lip when Tristan saw Beckett come around the corner into the aisle. She froze, her eyes on him, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Olivia turned, a smile on her face.

  “Hi Beckett.”

  “Hi.” Beckett blinked a few times, completely thrown for a loop. “I thought you weren’t going to the dance.”

  “We’re not,” Olivia replied, though he hadn't been talking to her. “We’re going to a family party.”

  Tristan cleared her throat, making eyes at Olivia, who finished with the lipstick and let go of Tristan’s face.

  “I’m going to go check out,” Olivia chirped, giving Beckett a knowing look as she passed by.

  “Hi,” Beckett said again, as he approached Tristan, who was rubbing her chin. He couldn’t think of anything else to say -- his brain seemed to have frozen over when he saw Tristan in a little black dress that looked like it had been made for her, her legs about twelve miles long in the heels she wore, and he couldn’t seem to unfreeze it.

  “Hi,” Tristan replied, sounding just a little breathless. Her eyes traveled over him, dressed in a navy blue suit with a white shirt and cobalt blue tie. His hair was swept handsomely away from his face and behind his ears, and Tristan wondered if his eyes were more blue than they'd been yesterday.

  “You look… wow.” Beckett surveyed Tristan from head to toe. “Amazing.”

  “Thanks,” Tristan said, blushing deeply. “So do you.”

  “I don’t.” Beckett shook his head, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You do.”

  Though it could not have been more out of character for her, and would certainly end in misery if she did, Tristan found herself desperately wishing she was going to the Jamestown Winter Dance; she understood now how Olivia felt, having to go to the Solstice Celebration instead.

  “Done. Ready?” Olivia came back, breaking the spell between Tristan and Beckett.

  “Did you get what you needed, Beckett? We can walk up front with you.” Olivia asked, and Beckett was sure he saw a mischievous gleam in her eye.

  “No, not yet.” Beckett gestured vaguely behind him. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

  “If you’re sure,” Olivia said, grinning. She bumped Tristan with her hip. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” Tristan replied. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Beckett to that point, but glanced over at Olivia and nodded.

  “Have fun at the dance, Beckett. Tell Tyler I said hi.”

  “I will. He’ll be sorry he missed you. Have fun at your party.” Beckett inclined his head at both of them.

  “Oh, that reminds me, can you take our picture?” Olivia asked.

  “O--” Tristan started, but Olivia was already watching as Beckett held out his hand for her phone.

  “Ah shoot, I left my phone in the car,” Olivia told Beckett, hitting her forehead lightly with the heel of her hand. “Can you use yours and send it to me or us?”

  “Of course. Say cheese,” Beckett instructed, lifting his phone and smiling, and Olivia and Tristan put their arms around each others waists.

  “Done.” Beckett took Olivia's number and texted her the photo, lifting his eyes to Tristan when he'd finished.

  “You're the best. See you later, Beckett.” Olivia smiled at him again, tugging on Tristan's arm.

  “See you Monday,” Tristan told him, finally finding her voice, and Beckett waved as they left, watching them walk away.

  Tristan turned hesitantly at the end of the aisle, looking back at him, and on her face Beckett saw all he needed to see in order to make his decision. He would take Eva to the dance tonight, but he would take her right home afterwards.

  ***

  “Winter is heating up in Lavelle, huh?” Olivia asked, once they were outside, and Tristan glared at her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t. You and Beckett were in there smoldering so hard at each other that I’m surprised the whole pharmacy didn’t combust.”

  Tristan groaned.

  “You need to let this go.”

  “You need to stop pretending I don’t know, actua
lly literally know, that every time you deny, you lie.”

  Tristan didn’t deign to respond, getting back in the car and turning her head as Umbris pulled out of the parking lot. She wanted to check and see if Beckett had emerged from the pharmacy, but she refused. Olivia was still smirking so much that Tristan was surprised her face didn’t get stuck that way, and she would not give her the satisfaction of looking across to her window. Instead, Tristan enjoyed the ride up to their nondescript meeting place near New Orleans, the familiarity a comfort after the tumultuousness of the last few months. The December evening was not nearly as stifling as it usually was, and Tristan unrolled her window, breathing in the sweet, briny air.

  The drive went fast, and, as usual, Tristan’s nerves sailed into her stomach once they’d arrived at their usual parking spot, which was an extremely narrow dirt road, well off the beaten path, that dead-ended at the water not one hundred yards ahead. The nice thing about this spot was that they were able to walk to the clearing -- once they hit the water, there was a unique, winding wooden bridge they’d follow across the river to the other side of the bayou. Someone had put it there, so someone obviously knew about this isolated spot, but the Elders whose job it was to scope out locations had monitored the site for years on end before giving the green light for everyone to gather in the clearing just a short walk from the bridge’s end, and they continued to monitor it to this day.

  Tristan could hear music as they approached, and, as they came through the last thicket of trees, Olivia gasped in wonder. The clearing ahead of them had been decorated to the nines -- everything was frosty silver, earthy green, holly berry red, and there was a long train of tables loaded with food. The clearing, of course, had been protected from bugs, wanderers, and the weather alike, and Tristan delighted in the very comfortable temperature they’d chosen.

  “Stop.”

  The family was halted by a photographer dressed in a black turtleneck and black pants, a giant camera hanging around his neck.

  “Smile.”

  They did as told, and the camera flashed blindingly in front of them.

  “You can pick up the photo on your way out.” The photographer moved out of their way.