Seasons in the Sun (8 page)

Chapter Seventeen

I followed Tristan up to his bedroom, a carbon copy of Taryn’s without the girly mess, and crawled up on the bed next to him. He sat with his back against the wall, elbows on knees, head on hands. Empty.

He made no attempt to draw me closer, but I didn’t shy away. I ran my hand lightly along his arm, hoping he realized I was even there. It was all I could do, be there.

“It’s going to be okay.” It felt stupid even as I said it, but what else do you say at a time like this?

“What if it’s not?” He whispered, barely moving his head enough that I could see his eye peaking through the hair that had fallen in his face.

“It will be.” I willed myself to smile at him, hoping he could believe it.

“I can’t lose her, Callie,” he slid his head so I could see both eyes without lifting it. “She’s all I’ve got. My family is falling apart, which is probably my fault, and now we’re here and this is happening and that’s my fault.”

“It’s not.”

“We wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t such a screw up.”

“Maybe this guy would have found her regardless. Tristan, you can’t blame yourself for this. Not even the worst thing you could do would be the reason Matt acted like this.”

He rolled his shoulders back, lifting his head and tilting his face towards the ceiling. All the blood had drained from his face. He sighed as if maybe he was asking the heavens for help.

“I can’t explain how it’s different, being a twin, but I know it is. We share everything. We always have. If she’s gone, a piece of me goes too.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. Nothing I said would make this less painful or terrifying.

Time had entered its own dimension. The room began to dim as night fell. Every so often we’d hear an outburst from downstairs that would make us both jump off the bed and then nothing, which was even more nerve wracking.

“I should go down there.” Tristan started to get up, I did my best to stop him.

“No! Ray will take care of it. He said they’d been watching Matt all summer.”

“Who the hell is ‘they’?”

“I don’t know, but he was in the military, and since this is the President, The Secret Service would be involved. Maybe that’s who all those people were?”

Tristan stopped, more from defeat than reason. “Why should we believe any of them? What if they’re all working with Matt, not against him?”

“No. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

I held on to his arm, as if that was enough to keep him from leaving the room. Miraculously, he stayed. Again the silence stretched time painfully. If only we had any idea what was happening downstairs. If only I knew my parents were safe. If they knew I was safe.

Explosions that sounded like firecrackers broke the silence. Gunshots. The sound ripped through my body. My mouth went dry and I could barely move enough to look at Tristan. He squeezed his eyes shut as his mouth fell open, almost in a soundless scream. He fell to his side, lifeless, as if he took the bullet.

I jumped off the bed and kneeled in front of him, so he could see me from where his face landed on the pillow. His eyes were still shut, tears streaming silently down his face.

I reached up and stroked his hair. “It wasn’t her. It’s going to be all right.” Maybe if I kept saying it, I’d start believing it too.

The door opened, startling me. I turned to see who it could be, a little piece of me scared to see Matt pointing a gun at us. The only light in the room came in from the driveway, and now from the hallway through the open door.

Caroline flipped light switch, burning my eyes. My dad came in behind her. “It’s over.” She announced flatly. My dad slipped by her and came to me, I rose to hug him. Guilt washed over me for leaving Tristan’s side, but I needed my daddy right now.

“She’s okay,” Dad whispered into my ear. At once I felt all of the tension I didn’t even know had built leave my body.

Caroline sat on the bed beside Tristan, giving him the good news as well. It didn’t stop his tears, but now at least they were tears of relief as he held his aunt.

Chapter Eighteen

Keisha looked only slightly better than I felt, she came behind the counter to deposit a tray of dirty dishes in the washing pile. I couldn’t believe that anyone expected us to work that next morning, after turn of events last night. In business, the show must go on, and we were unexpectedly short staffed that morning. The restaurant was busier than usual that day, the swell of customers hoping for some gossip. I hoped my face said it all without a word.

Matt was dead. He’d shot himself instead of dealing with the consequences of the mess he created.

Taryn was safe. Shaken to the core, of course.

Burning my hands on hot water and steam was the only thing that reminded me that today was real. I couldn’t get my head in the game. Exhaustion, disbelief, heartbreak. How was I supposed to make coffee?

“Where are the twins?” I asked my mother. It didn’t surprise me they weren’t here after last night’s ordeal, but the silence surrounding them was eerie. Almost like we’d lost them too.

“Gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” She ripped my heart out of my chest with a single word.

“Just what I said, gone. Their father had them flown out of here first thing this morning, in case there were any more threats towards them on the island.” My mother kept rolling dough like she was telling me the weather report.

“That can’t be.” I barely whispered.

“It is. Honestly, it’s for the best. They were nothing but trouble here. We don’t need that. I’m looking forward to getting back to our old routine. Now get back to work, Callie, it’s busy out there.”

Dismissed, as usual, like my feelings didn’t exist. I turned on my heel and headed back to the barista station that would now forever remind me of Tristan. I tried to regulate my breathing while I caught up on the back log of orders.

Gone. Like they were never even here. Like nothing had happened. Just business as usual.

I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye. I thought I’d have a chance to say so many things between now and goodbye, and now that chance for all of that was gone, just like Tristan.

“How are you hanging in there, kiddo?” Keisha asked as she passed.

“The twins left this morning.” I announced.

“I know.” She scraped the bussed plates slowly, watching for my reaction.

“You knew? And you didn’t say anything?”

“I knew it would upset you. You’ve been through enough in the last day.”

“How did you know?” I winced as I burned my hand on coffee, and then tried to keep my composure as I placed the coffees on the counter.

“Ray told me. Turns out he is Secret Service, sent here because they knew Matthew was a threat. He’s going to be leaving shortly too, after the investigation wraps up.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know? Sexy as hell, isn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes, hoping none of the tears threatening to fall made it past my lashes. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You should have said something. Maybe I could have seen Tristan before he left.”

“Tristan’s gone?” One of our female customers asked as she waited for her coffee. I tried to hide my annoyance while Keisha nodded sadly at her. The customer sighed gruffly as she left with her iced coffee. I made a face at her back.

“Sweetie, you knew he was leaving all along. Come on, you didn’t think this was going to last forever, did you?” She looked at me and sighed, hugging me loosely as I continued to work when she realized I took my summer romance a bit more seriously than she did. I’d never done this before. My heart had no practice.

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

“Don’t be sad, Callie. He’ll call you when he gets back to California. He really likes you. This isn’t the end.”

I looked up sadly at the tourist who was waiting impatiently for their iced cappuccino. I squirted whipped cream on the top and handed them the drink, barely watching what I was doing.

“He’s going to forget all about me.” Taryn’s warning thundered again ominously in my head. I felt myself crumbling even though no one else seemed to understand why. “He’s always going to think of last night when he thinks of me.”

“No, he’s not! He’s going to think of all of the other good things that had happened this summer.”

I poured another coffee, narrowly missing my unburned hand, and sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

Once the rush quieted, I stole a few minutes to sit outside at the picnic table behind the restaurant reserved for our breaks. I didn’t wait for anyone else to take break. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to embrace the silence, reacquaint myself with it. Tristan’s spirit surrounded me. I welcomed the memories, like a hug. I prayed Keisha knew what she was talking about.

All I could do now was wait.

About the Author

Kristen shares a birthday with Steven Tyler and Diana Ross. She spends each day striving to be half as fabulous as they are. She’s worn many hats, none as flattering as her cowboy hat: banker, retail manager, fledgling web designer, world’s worst cocktail waitress, panty slinger, now makeup artist and aspiring author. She loves sunshine, live music, the middle of nowhere, and finding new things to put in her house. Kristen is represented by Pam van Hylckama Vlieg of Foreword Literary.

Acknowledgements

In a galaxy long ago, Julie Hutchings and I used to pass a notebook back and forth and make up stories about rockstars. If it wasn’t for our goofy foolishness then and now, this book wouldn’t exist. I can’t write this acknowledgement without giving a nod to my Chapel Hill girls, Johanna, and Marie and the rest of the crew who helped me get into more trouble than Callie ever dreamed of. Somehow, we came out unscathed. I should probably thank God for that one. Finally, thanks to my agent, Pam van Hylckama Vlieg, who loved these characters enough to take a chance on them.

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