The Reckoning Read online

  “Tristan? What are you doing here?”

  Tristan crawled into his bed, sniffling, and settled in beside him, beneath his comforter. Beckett immediately pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.

  “I just need you to hold me,” Tristan whispered.

  And so he did.

  ***

  Tristan was on a boat. It was large and white, and the deck under her back was made of thick glass, offering her an unobstructed view of the sea. The water was a blue she'd never seen anywhere but Beckett's eyes, impossibly calm, and, though the ocean’s bottom was over fifty feet below, she could see straight down to the pale sand and the vibrant coral. The sky was a brilliant azure, puffy white clouds rolled lazily by, and the sun was the best sensation she'd felt on her skin in what felt like a lifetime. Birds called out to each other, and besides them and the gentle lapping of the waves against the anchored vessel, there was no other sound at all.

  Suddenly, the boat started to shake. Not violently, but firmly.

  “Tristan.”

  Someone was saying her name, but who? Tristan opened her eyes, closing them again immediately against the dazzling sunlight, but in that brief glance she’d seen no one.

  “Tristan.”

  It was Beckett, and Tristan's eyes fluttered open. She was not on a boat, after all -- rather, she was flat on her back in Beckett's bed, having slid down off of the pillows, and his deep turquoise sheets and thick, white and navy striped comforter surrounded her. It took her a moment to get her bearings, and she blinked up at Beckett, who was leaning over her, dressed in jeans and a dark green t-shirt. His room was considerably lighter than it had been, and Tristan turned her face out of the shaft of sunlight that broke through the slit in his curtains.

  “There you are. Good morning, beautiful, or should I say afternoon?”

  “What?” Tristan felt more exhausted than she had when she'd fallen asleep, and she pushed her hair off of her forehead. “What time is it?”

  “Almost one in the afternoon.”

  “What?” Tristan said again, bolting upright.

  “Tristan, it's OK.” Beckett looked at her with concern, studying her face for a moment before he spoke again. “Not that I mind, in fact if you want to sneak into my room every morning I'll start leaving the front door unlocked, but… what are you doing here? My mom said you showed up before seven and you looked like you'd been crying?”

  Tristan ran a hand over her face.

  “I'm so sorry I slept so long.”

  “Don't be; you clearly needed it. What's going on?”

  “It's my grandfather,” Tristan said, pushing herself into a sitting position. “He got ahold of Olivia at the reunion and really gave us a fright.”

  “Is she OK?” Beckett frowned.

  She's OK, but I'm not, Tristan thought, but she nodded.

  “She's fine.”

  “And you? Are you fine?” Beckett’s eyes were concerned, soft at the corners and telling her he knew she was not fine, and Tristan felt the desperate, crushing panic rise in her once again.

  “I didn't think so.” Beckett gathered Tristan into his arms and she clung to him, more scared than she'd ever been.

  “It's OK,” Beckett murmured. “I'm here, Tristan. No matter what happens, I'm here.”

  “Do you promise?”

  Her voice was a whisper, but when she pulled back to look at him, her eyes bore into his own with a need and intensity that nearly took his breath away. He promised. He'd promise her whatever she wanted, he knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt. Beckett didn't know what this love was, had not thought anything like it existed outside of the sappy romances his Mom loved to watch, but even those rang hollow now compared to how he felt about Tristan. It shook him to his core -- how he was sure he'd do anything for her, to protect her, to lay down his life for hers if it ever came to that, and this after only a handful of months together. He loved her in a way he hadn't known he was capable of loving; it was easy and familiar, as though he'd loved her before, in other lifetimes, if such a thing was even possible, and as a result he was steadfast and secure in his feelings. It wasn't some silly, hormonally driven infatuation between them, though Beckett knew no adult would believe him if he said that aloud -- not that he needed to be believed by anyone but Tristan. Tristan.

  Beckett began a slow tour of her face, taking in the small scar just above her outer left eyebrow that she'd gotten when she'd fallen off of her bike in the second grade; her infinite, unnaturally black eyes; her perfect nose, perfect lips, and the other small, thin scar beneath her chin that had been the result of her face meeting a curb when she'd taken a spill rollerblading at ten years old.

  “Beckett.”

  A whisper, again, and Beckett met Tristan's gaze, which he swore he could feel all the way inside of him.

  “I promise you that I am here no matter what happens.”

  “I’m going to hold onto that.”

  Tristan was very clearly in a bad place, and helplessness began to weave its way around Beckett’s heart as he watched her trying so valiantly to keep it together.

  “Just tell me what’s going on, please?” Beckett kept his voice low as well, as not to scare her off.

  Tristan’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I can’t. I… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “You can.” Beckett cupped Tristan’s face, using his thumbs to wipe the fat tears that spilled down her cheeks. “Tristan, I promise you there’s nothing in this world you can’t tell me.”

  The worst part was that Tristan knew he meant it. She knew that he would hear anything she wanted to share with him, and she even believed he would handle the truth thoughtfully and openly, which caused a physical ache in her chest. If telling him wouldn’t put him at risk, she would spill everything right where they sat. But putting Beckett’s life in danger was not an option, never had been, and Tristan only had to hang on until June. Once she was free from the community, removed from the psychic map and no longer vulnerable to surveillance by the Elders, or her family, or any other community members, then she could tell Beckett everything.

  “I believe you. I just can’t yet. I know it doesn’t make any sense, I know you don’t understand, but I just need until graduation, OK? After graduation, I can tell you everything.”

  Beckett looked at Tristan contemplatively, his brow furrowed just slightly. She looked back at him with a mixture of trepidation and despair, and finally Beckett nodded.

  “OK. After graduation.”

  Tristan exhaled a shaky breath and hugged Beckett tightly, hoping with all of her might that they’d make it to graduation unscathed.

  ***

  Three days before Tristan’s birthday, the envelope from Ward Livingston University arrived. Beckett had taken to driving Tristan to and from school every day, so he could be there when she collected the mail in the hopes her letter would come, and, after Tristan had frozen upon opening the mailbox, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

  Taking a deep breath, Tristan picked up the envelope, knowing immediately what the contents inside would say. She had been accepted.

  “Dear Miss Wallace, congratulations on your acceptance to Ward Livingston…” Tristan read faintly.

  Before her brain could catch up with her eyes and the news could really sink in, Beckett had lifted her off of her feet, spinning her around as he hooted and hollered and kissed her. Tristan laughed, holding on for dear life, closing her eyes and sending a genuine prayer of thanks to the universe for this outcome. The commotion drew Olivia and Evander outside, and the four of them had a mini-celebration right there on the porch over Tristan’s acceptance letter.

  “Congratulations! Both of you! Oh my gods, what are the odds?” Olivia clapped excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. “It’s almost like it was meant to be!”

  Tristan gave her the hairy eyeball as Beckett grinned, but Olivia just smiled radiantly at them.

  “So now you have to talk to Mom and Dad,” E
vander pointed out, and Tristan’s face fell.

  “You couldn’t have given her like ten whole minutes to just be happy about this?” Olivia snapped, twisting around to look at him accusingly.

  Evander, at least, had the good grace to look ashamed.

  “Why would that make you unhappy?” Beckett asked, frowning at Tristan, and that was when she and her siblings realized Evander’s error.

  For a moment, the three Wallaces froze, looking at each other and then at Beckett, who lifted his eyebrows at them in return.

  “They don’t know WLU is my top choice,” Tristan said eventually, which was at least some form of the truth. “Boston is pretty far from here.”

  “Will it make a difference if you tell them I got in, too?”

  Tristan smiled at him affectionately.

  “It might. I guess I’ll find out. But I’m going to keep this to myself at least until my birthday -- I just want to enjoy it privately, well, with you four, for a few days.”

  Everyone nodded, and Olivia and Evander went back inside. Tristan looked at Beckett, who was still smiling at her, and she smiled back at him, hardly daring to believe that after so many stressful months, something truly good had finally happened.

  “Now we need to celebrate you.” Beckett took her hands in his. “Anything in mind?”

  Tristan shook her head.

  “I’m still reeling. I’m having a hard time believing this is real; what if tomorrow another letter comes that says they made a mistake and I’m actually not accepted, or wait-listed? That does happen.”

  As she was talking, Beckett had bent down to pick up a page that had fallen to the porch. He scanned it, and then raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he handed the paper to Tristan.

  “I don’t think they’re going to do that.”

  Tristan looked at the second page of the letter, which explained that not only had she been accepted, she’d been granted an inconceivably generous scholarship. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her free hand.

  “My smart girl.” Beckett’s eyes shone with admiration, and Tristan jumped into his arms once again.

  Not wanting to be discovered with her letter by Umbris and Sol, Tristan folded everything back up neatly and placed it in the envelope, which she then tucked carefully into her schoolbag. She and Beckett sat down on the porch swing, Tristan draping her legs over his lap, and Beckett drummed lightly on her knees as they swayed.

  “So I’ve been thinking about this,” Beckett started slowly, looking apprehensive, and Tristan cocked her head interestedly.

  “About my acceptance?”

  Beckett nodded.

  “Yes. If we both ended up getting accepted. Do we stay here in Lavelle for one last summer, or do we start looking for a month-to-month rental up in Boston for July and August, before we move into the university?”

  Tristan blinked a few times, surprised.

  “You’re asking if we should move in together in Boston before we start school?”

  Beckett nodded.

  “Every day in Lavelle, in my house, feels like someone has layered another blanket on top of me. You know I can’t wait to get out of here and never look back. If we start looking now, we might be able to secure a place starting July first, and rent for July and August before we move into the dorms. You don’t have to answer me right now.”

  Tristan watched Beckett while he talked, so confident and sure. He really had thought about this. Did she want to move in with him? That would be a huge step for two eighteen year olds who’d only been dating for less than a year and hadn’t even exchanged I love yous. Tristan didn’t consider herself a prude, but she’d always assumed that moving in with a boyfriend came after, or even during, college -- after the relationship had been established for a couple of years.

  On the other hand, did it really matter when they moved in together? It would end up happening eventually, their destiny connection would ensure that. And it would only be for two months before school started, at which point they’d live in separate dorms for a while, so it would sort of be like a trial run before they moved in together for good.

  Tristan didn’t have an answer, so she was thankful Beckett wasn’t expecting one.

  “I will definitely think about it.”

  Beckett nodded, satisfied, and Tristan observed his profile as he looked out across her property. Her mind lingered on the fact that they hadn’t yet exchanged “I love you”s -- sometimes she could swear Beckett was going to say it, just based on the way he’d gaze at her, and the love she’d detected in his feelings for her the first time she’d read him had intensified nearly tenfold since that day at his house, but then he’d look like his thoughts had caught up with him and he’d lose his nerve. Tristan knew he didn’t have to be the one to say it first, knew that she could tell him before he told her, but she was scared, too; mostly, she was afraid to make herself so vulnerable. There was no taking something like that back once it was out there, and Tristan had never been good at taking chances.

  Oh, but she loved him. She loved his intelligent, kind brain, and the surprising way it worked. She loved his steady, mellow personality, and the way he never put on airs to impress other people. She loved his quiet strength, his physical strength, his beautiful eyes, and the way it felt every time he touched her. She loved that when he’d told her she had him, that he would be by her side and not let anyone or anything harm her, he’d stuck to it, even at the expense of some of his friendships. She loved his sense of humor, his vulnerability that he wasn’t afraid to show her, the way he cheered her on and picked her up when she couldn’t keep going. He was flawed, everyone was, but he was home, and all of the flaws in the world would never change that about him.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Beckett sent her a lazy grin, his eyes having met hers a few seconds before, watching her watch him.

  “I love you.”

  Tristan had blurted out the words before she could stop herself, and her eyes widened as she twisted her fingers together painfully. She turned her face away as she went scarlet from hairline to chest, wishing she would fall through the swing, through the porch, and right into the center of the Earth, never to be seen again.

  “You… love me?” Beckett’s voice was full of wonder.

  Tristan chanced a look at him, her mouth forming silent words that wouldn’t squeak past her lips, and Beckett suddenly stood, pulling her off of the swing and to him in one fluid motion. Tristan let out a yelp of surprise before Beckett’s mouth was on hers, intense and ravenous. His hands plunged into her hair and her stomach bottomed out, desire rushing through her body as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

  “Beckett,” Tristan gasped, breaking for air, and Beckett pressed kisses along her neck, down to her shirt collar, until she shivered, laughing.

  “I love you too.” Beckett rested his forehead against hers, and Tristan beamed, framing his face with her hands as she brought his mouth back to hers.

  ***

  Tristan’s birthday was on Thursday, so on Saturday she and Beckett went camping again. This time, Tristan had requested they go tubing on the little stretch of the Mississippi next to which they’d be setting up, and Beckett, in his usual fashion, had embraced the idea wholeheartedly. Also different from last time, Olivia, Tyler, and Evander -- sans Ellie, as they’d stopped seeing each other in March -- joined Tristan and Beckett for a day of tubing, but declined to camp overnight.

  “I am not being the fifth or the third wheel overnight in the wilderness,” Evander had replied when Tristan asked, firmly shaking his head.

  “This place creeps me out at night,” Olivia had said, also shaking her head.

  “How do you know?” Tristan frowned.

  “You brought me here years ago, remember? It was getting pitch dark and I said I wanted to turn around and go home, but you swore the best view we could get of the blood moon was from this spot. It’s so isolated, it’s like it’s just waiting for a
masked murderer to find it and the unsuspecting dingbats who decide to set up camp here.”

  “Ha ha. Also, I was right about the moon.”

  The day was as perfect as Tristan had hoped for -- the sky was a rich, cloudless blue, and a gentle wind rustled the treetops far above them. April in Lavelle already saw temperatures close to eighty degrees, especially so close to May, and Tristan absolutely reveled in the warmth and light.

  “Hey beautiful.” Beckett’s tube bumped gently into Tristan’s, and she looked over at him, shading her eyes with one hand. “Did I tell you I love you in that swimsuit?”

  Tristan grinned, looking down at what was actually one of Olivia’s suits -- a neon pink bikini that was very much out of the realm of her usual style.

  “Thank you. Did I tell you I love you shirtless?”

  Beckett flexed exaggeratedly, putting his hands behind his head, and Tristan laughed. His abs rippled, and she sighed with pleasure as she turned her face back to the sun. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of looking at him without clothes.

  At long last, when the sun began to set, everyone got out of the water, toweling off and pulling on clothes before sitting down around a fire Beckett quickly built. They toasted s’mores and gossiped about their classmates, and Tristan drank in every bit of the laughter, the good-natured ribbing, the sweet saltiness of the snacks, and the drying breeze that carried the scent of magnolias. The feeling that her clock was running down had abated for a while in the excitement of her WLU acceptance, but it had returned the morning of her birthday and persisted, though she tried not to pay it much attention. Her emotions lodged in her throat as she looked around at Beckett laughing with Tyler and her siblings, her heart swelling to capacity with how much she loved these people. She hoped with every fiber of her being that her feeling was wrong, that things would turn out OK despite those very same fibers yelling that things would not, and that her time would be better spent preparing for the battle of her life. She carefully committed the happy faces to memory, knowing on some deep level that she’d need to turn to them for strength in the coming weeks.