by M. K. Easley
“It was his fault, at least partially. He knew what kind of shit everyone was putting you through all day and he just watched it happen. Why wouldn't Emmeline and her crew have thought it was OK to go after you?”
“I don't know what you want me to say,” Tristan said, her eyes welling up. “Anything I say won't matter.”
Olivia's face softened.
“I'm sorry. Gods, what happened to you really has me fucked up, so I can't imagine how you're feeling.”
“I keep seeing him, at random times but usually at the gatherings, probably because there's so much energy there and it opens up a pathway, and I know he's seen me when he shouldn't have. You know none of this is supposed to happen with a commoner, but I even stress signaled to him yesterday -- that's how he knew where to find me, and when he did he didn't hesitate. He bowled right into the middle of them to get to me. He has stepped into physical attacks on me twice now in the last couple of months, and he's defended me to his own friends. You really can't understand why I'm not walking away from him?”
Olivia let out a long sigh, shaking her head.
“Of course I understand.” Olivia paused. “Plus there's the whole destiny connection thing that makes this inevitable anyway.”
Tristan went still. “What?”
Olivia’s eyes met hers, and she nodded.
“That vibe I was getting? I had enough time to figure it out on Saturday night. There's a destiny connection between you two, Trin. That's why you keep psychically connecting even though he's common.”
Tristan sat down on the top step of the porch, needing to process what Olivia had just told her.
“So even if I…” Tristan trailed off, thinking out loud, and Olivia sat down beside her.
“Yes. Even if you, it wouldn't matter. Somehow you and Beckett would get back to each other, as many times as it took until it stuck.”
“But destiny connections, they're so rare. And they're temperamental, and can be dangerous. Oceana, are you sure?”
Olivia nodded seriously.
“I'm sure. But you're not in danger; you're thinking of star-crossed, which you guys are not. A destiny connection like yours is not actually all that rare, it's just easy for people to ignore. Of course, they don't realize that ignoring it is the root cause of most of their problems, but I digress.”
Tristan scrubbed her face with her hands. Her head hurt, this information just a bit too much for her today.
“I didn't mean to overwhelm you,” Olivia said quietly.
“You didn't. It's just a lot. But a lot of things also make sense now, so I'm glad you told me.” Tristan surveyed her sister carefully. “I heard you and Tyler talking last night.”
Olivia said nothing, just shrugged.
“O, I know you'll probably end up joining the community when it's time. You and Ember are brilliant and talented and will fit in wonderfully. But you need to live now, right now, while nothing much is expected of you. You've had a thing for Tyler for three years; please don't shut him out on my behalf, OK? I'm telling you, right from the horse's mouth, I don't want you to do that.”
It was Olivia's turn to well up, and Tristan put her arm around her sister's shoulders.
“I don't know how things will be after break,” Tristan said. “But I'm going to hope they'll be different. All I want is to be left alone, and I think I might have a few people in my corner now who will help make that happen.”
“I just feel so guilty,” Olivia whispered, tears rolling down her face. “So many times I've ignored what they've said, or have just given them dirty looks, or have asked them -- asked them, and politely, too, like how ridiculous is that, to stop talking about you. I didn't want to rock the boat when they all decided to start paying attention to me, and it was at your expense. Tyler is a part of all of that and I don't know how to separate him out. I'm so, so sorry Trinity. I'm a terrible sister.”
Olivia wept, and Tristan hugged her. Of course it stung a little bit, Olivia acknowledging aloud what Tristan had already known, but that was the thing -- Tristan had already known, and she understood. High school was a savanna and popularity was an ongoing territory war; she wanted her siblings to have a different experience than she'd had.
The door opened, and Evander stepped outside, coming to sit on Tristan's other side.
“I'm due to give you an apology, too,” Evander said without preamble. “Everything Oceana said also applies to me. I've been a shitty brother, and I'm truly sorry, Trinity.”
Tristan hugged Evander next, assuring them both they had nothing to apologize for, though she appreciated it.
“And now that you're both here, can we confirm or deny that Beckett saw you at the school today?”
“Umm,” Olivia said, scrunching up her face like she was trying to remember, while Evander tapped his lips in thought.
“I don't know.”
“I can't even remember.”
Tristan laughed.
“So it was you two who influenced Emmeline to confess. On school grounds. Breaking rule number one.”
“I mean, if we had been there, which we can't remember, I think it would have been bending more than breaking? Because school is out on break,” Evander posited.
“You can’t do that again,” Tristan told them seriously. “It’s too risky.”
“Oh we won’t,” Olivia said. “But that reminds me, we do have to run some errands tonight. Do you need anything while we’re out?”
“Run what kind of errands? Aren’t you still grounded, Ember?” Tristan asked.
Olivia and Evander exchanged a look.
“Just errands. Mom and Dad are fine with Ember coming along.” Olivia smiled, and Tristan shook her head, deciding she didn’t want to know after all.
Chapter 19
Beckett came over again on Friday afternoon, noticing that Tristan looked a little bit worse than she had the day before. Her bruising had gotten nastier, which he knew was a healing mechanism, but the discoloration on her skin had him angry all over again. Additionally, Tristan was pale, and faint circles had developed under her eyes. Still, she smiled when she saw him, a genuine smile, and it took everything in him to not pull her into his arms.
“Do you mind if we just sit out here on the porch?” Tristan asked, stepping outside, and Beckett shook his head, looking at her closely.
“Whatever you want to do. How are you today?”
“Tired. I haven’t been sleeping well since Wednesday, I…” Tristan shrugged, walking to the end of the porch, where she hoisted herself up onto the wide rail, resting her back against one of the wooden support beams. “Everytime I close my eyes, I end up reliving what happened.”
“Well, if you ever want to come to my house to nap or whatever, let me know,” Beckett said, and Tristan creased her brow, a puzzled smile crossing her lips.
“What makes you think I’d sleep any better at your house?”
Beckett shrugged.
“Your day started here. You came back here after the attack. Maybe it would help to try and rest in a space that doesn’t have any direct ties to it.”
“I’m not coming to your house to go to sleep, Beckett,” Tristan laughed, briefly closing her eyes. “That would be so rude.”
“The offer stands. It wouldn’t be rude. I’d just do school work or something while you slept.”
“I appreciate the offer.” Tristan opened her eyes, smiling at him, and Beckett nodded.
Beckett joined her on the porch rail, resting his back against the beam opposite her, and for a while they sat in silence.
“Any plans this weekend?” Beckett finally asked.
“Tomorrow is the first day of winter, the solstice, so the five of us usually have a little celebration here. We’re winter people. Sunday I was supposed to work, but Joe told me to not worry about coming back until Monday. You?”
Beckett laughed.
“Winter people living in a place that doesn’t actually get winter, huh? I will be helping out at the
library both days.”
“You never did tell me what you’re doing there.”
“Grunt work, mostly. They’re reorganizing, so there’s a lot of heavy lifting that needs to be done.”
Tristan sat up, folding her legs in front of her.
“It’s nice of you to help them.”
“Well, they’re paying me, so it’s not entirely altruistic,” Beckett grinned, and Tristan laughed.
“I help out in the school library a lot,” Tristan said, looking out over the front yard. “If I’m not in the cafeteria at lunch, that’s probably where I am. Shelf reorganization is my favorite, though I know people putting books back where they don’t belong is the bane of every librarian’s existence.”
Beckett laughed.
“Well right now most of the books are off the shelves at the Lavelle Free Library, so I’ll let Margeaux know she can call you to come shelve them when they’re ready.”
“Please do.” Tristan nodded seriously, and Beckett laughed again.
“So is that what you want to do when you graduate? Become a librarian?”
“I’ve thought about it,” Tristan replied, and then shook her head. “But no. My dream job is to be a researcher, for an author. If someone wants to write a book about something that requires extensive research, I want to be their person. I would do the same thing in the scientific field, for journals and such, but to research material for authors, preferably fiction, is the goal. We’ll see how it pans out; it’s an incredibly tiny field.”
“That sounds interesting, and like it would suit you well,” Beckett told her honestly. “Though I feel like you’d probably crush whatever goal you set for yourself anyway.”
“What about you? Do you know what you want to do?”
“I think I’d like to get into psychiatry, with a specialization in veterans affairs.”
Tristan was surprised. She blinked a couple of times, and Beckett looked at her, an amused expression on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing, that just wasn’t what I was expecting you to say. That’s… very noble.”
“My Paw-Paw was failed by the system when he came home. If I can help one person get the care they need to live a mostly normal life when they come back from deployment, I’ll feel like I’ve actually done something.”
Tristan nodded.
“I understand. It really is noble of you; I wasn’t trying to be condescending. I think you’d be great at it.”
“We’ll see. Have to see how the Ward Livingston psych program is, assuming I get in.”
Tristan’s head snapped up.
“WLU?”
Beckett nodded.
“My dream school.”
Tristan gaped at him.
“WLU is my dream school.”
Beckett smiled, nodding again.
“Yeah I know. I heard you talking to Dolores on Thanksgiving.”
“Have you applied?” Tristan asked, and Beckett confirmed.
“So you know the torture of the wait.” Tristan sagged back against the beam behind her, blowing out a breath.
Beckett chuckled.
“My hopes aren’t real high, I’ll be honest with you, so I’m pretty much preparing for Tulane or LSU while still dreaming, distantly, of WLU.”
“Well, I have enough hope for the both of us, and Ward Livingston has enough room for the both of us,” Tristan said, her chin setting in the same stubborn way Beckett had often seen Olivia’s, and he felt unexpectedly touched as he surveyed her face.
“Did you want anything to drink, or eat, or anything?” Tristan asked, suddenly remembering her manners.
She swung her legs over the railing and hopped down, losing her balance in the process, and Beckett jumped up to catch her. She grasped his forearm, his hand on her waist, and looked up at him, laughing nervously.
“Sorry.”
Beckett shook his head.
“You really need to stop saying that.”
Her hair had fallen over one eye, and, as the breath froze in her lungs, Beckett moved it away from her face, his thumb grazing the bruise on her cheek so slowly and gently that a shiver ran down her spine. He was looking at her the same wanting way he’d looked at her after the meeting yesterday, the same way he’d looked at her the whole time he’d been quasi-dating Eva, maybe the same way he’d always looked at her, in this and other lifetimes, and Tristan gazed back at him, knowing her expression probably mirrored his, wondering if he could hear the galloping of her heart that sounded like thunder in her own ears.
“Tristan.”
He said her name like a prayer, and Tristan moved closer to him, knowing what was coming, wanting it so badly she ached from head to toe. Beckett’s eyes dropped to her lips, and at that very moment, because it was so fitting for her life these days, Tristan heard a car coming up the driveway, and she and Beckett turned to see a silver SUV slowly approaching the house. Tristan did not recognize the vehicle, but she immediately hated whoever was inside for interrupting her moment with Beckett.
“Expecting company?” Beckett asked, his voice rough, and Tristan shook her head.
“No, I was only expecting you today.”
Tristan walked around him, going to stand at the top of the steps, and as the car pulled up to the house, she nearly fainted. It was Celes, and his eyes were bouncing between Tristan and Beckett, though she knew he most likely couldn’t have seen what had been about to happen on the porch.
Celes got out of the car, looking larger than life outside of a gathering setting, and Tristan twisted her fingers together as Beckett came to stand beside her. Why was Celes here? Why now? Why, right at this moment, when Beckett had been standing not a foot from her, ready to finally, finally kiss her?
“Ce-- Canton, hi,” Tristan greeted, catching herself. She glanced at Beckett, who was looking at Celes with a faint frown on his face.
Celes made a face at her use of his common name, but nodded all the same as he approached the steps.
“Tristan.”
“W-What are you doing here?”
Celes came up the steps, finally turning his gaze on Beckett. They sized each other up, and Tristan wished for a swift and sudden death.
“Are you a friend of Tristan’s?” Celes asked Beckett, not unkindly, and Beckett nodded.
“Beckett Benson.”
“Nice to meet you.” Celes held out his hand. “I’m Canton Crenshaw, a family friend.”
Beckett shook it, looking wary, and his eyes moved to Tristan, who looked even paler than she already had. He had the strangest feeling of déjà vu meeting this guy, whoever he was, and it was clear Canton was trying to establish his dominance, all of which made Beckett uneasy. The way Tristan was looking at Canton -- like he made her nervous, confirmed by the twisting thing she did with her fingers when she was anxious -- was not helping that feeling.
“Your Dad called to let my parents know what happened to you. I’m so sorry.” Celes did look genuinely sorry as he took in her bruised face, and Tristan nodded.
“Thank you.”
“I told him I’d probably come down to see you today, before we leave for Mandeville, but I can see he didn’t relay the message.”
“No, he didn’t,” Tristan said, wondering whether or not that had been intentional.
Celes looked at Beckett again.
“Your name sounds familiar. You’re the one who found Tristan?”
Beckett nodded.
“Thank you,” Celes said, and Tristan wondered what they would do if she just went inside and closed the door and never came back out.
Beckett’s face settled somewhere between defensive and amused.
“You’re welcome.”
“Tristan means a lot to me and my family,” Celes half-explained, looking between Beckett and Tristan.
“Right.” Beckett eyed Celes, and then looked over at Tristan. “I’m gonna get going, I think. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine, but you don’t have to go,” Tri
stan said, looking at him regretfully.
Beckett gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s OK. Let me know if you want me to come back over later, or on Sunday, or whenever works for you. And don’t forget the offer stands for you to come sleep at my house whenever you need to.”
Celes crossed his arms, and Tristan ignored him, smiling at Beckett, who’d winked at her.
“I’m not napping at your house. But I’ll let you know about the rest.”
“Nice meeting you, Canton.” Beckett held out his hand to Celes, who shook it, and then he reached out, squeezing Tristan’s hand. “And I’ll talk to you later.”
“Talk to you later.” Tristan watched him go, her hand tingling where he’d grabbed it, and she finally turned to Celes once Beckett had disappeared on his bike.
“Sorry about that. Like I said, my Dad didn’t tell me you were coming today.”
Celes looked at her for a few beats before speaking.
“I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your friend.”
Tristan shook her head.
“It’s no big deal. He was here yesterday, too, and will probably be back again. He only lives about ten minutes from us.”
Celes was still watching her, not saying much, which was making Tristan nervous. She was sealed, as usual, but she was positive the very basic female element of her was signaling all over the place that Beckett was the one she had feelings for.
“Do you want to come in?” Tristan asked, gesturing at the house. “Hungry? Thirsty?”
Celes shook his head.
“I ate before I came here. We can go in, though. I didn’t think it got much more humid than New Orleans, but it’s brutal down here.”
Tristan laughed, letting Celes go into the house before her.
“We’re due for another storm. We’ve been having a ton lately, but the humidity will let up when the next one blows through.”
“Celes,” Olivia said in surprise, when they walked into the living room. Her eyes darted to Tristan, and then the empty space behind them, presumably looking for Beckett. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how Trinity is doing,” Celes replied, sinking down onto the couch. “Your Dad forgot to tell all of you, I see.”