by Katy Ames
Liar.
The word, the truth, the still air of the suite was suffocating and Tristan did the only thing he could. He fled. To the beach.
The sky had gone dark, the clouds rolling in off the horizon. The world felt heavy, the pressure falling further as the storm got closer. The waves that lapped at his bare feet as he ran were angrier than they’d been the day before.
Tristan catalogued all of those important details as, pace after pace, that little voice repeated. Liar. Liar. Liar.
The farther he ran from the hotel, the colder reality became. And the louder that little voice got.
You’re a liar, Tristan Hurst. You didn’t save Tessa. You scared her off.
You scared away the only person who’s ever made you want to save yourself.
13
No amount of coffee could salvage that day. She hadn’t slept at all. She’d barely been able to focus since she’d fled Tristan’s room the afternoon before.
Absolutely nothing made sense.
Tessa stared at the boarded-up windows that hid the swelling ocean from view. She couldn’t see the dark gray sky or the churning water. Or the thick raindrops hitting the wood-covered glass. The only thing she could see was Tristan’s expression as he’d stalked her across his room.
She’d seen him closed off. Wary. Scared. Frozen. Curious and cautious. Even warm and friendly and ever so slightly flirtatious.
But she’d never seen him like that.
He’d been angry. Shit, furious. But the kind that was colored by suffering. Either inflicted or expected. It didn’t matter. He’d been like a wounded animal, hurt and bleeding, pacing his cage, ready to lash out at any second.
His pain had been palpable and Tessa had wanted to soothe him. And as if he’d sensed it, Tristan had struck first, aiming for blood.
It had been almost twenty-four hours since Tessa had seen him.
She hadn’t even considered going back to his room that same day. Tessa had no clue what had set him off and she had no desire to relive the experience. Tristan had obviously needed to cool off. And she’d needed time to think.
But, a day later, there was still no sign of him.
She’d texted him, then called when he hadn’t responded. No answer. Same with the landline.
He wasn’t in the spa. The crew had already left, all work suspended until after the storm. So Tessa had gone down herself, wandering the half-finished rooms on the off-chance that he’d decided to take out some of his frustration on unsuspecting drywall. But he wasn’t there either.
Officially worried, she’d called Grace, who’d called Craig, the head of hotel security, who’d gone to Tristan’s room to see if he was hiding, ignoring calls. The suite was empty. Not just empty of him. But empty of things, too. Craig had found Tristan’s computer, phone, and two sets of discarded clothes. That was it. Not enough to indicate he was living there. And definitely not enough to suggest he was coming back.
As far as Tessa could tell, Tristan had vanished. Just as the hurricane was threatening shore.
He couldn’t have gotten far. The airport had already closed. Boats had been pulled out of the water. She seriously doubted he’d drive to somewhere else on the island. Where would he possibly go? Well that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t know.
“But I’m going to find out.” Tessa went back to the kitchen to grab her coat. Whatever had happened yesterday, she wasn’t going to leave him out there by himself. She could hear the wind whipping around the roof. The rain was already coming down, but not so heavy that she wouldn’t be able to see. Shrugging on her coat, Tessa regretted that it didn’t have a hood. An umbrella would be useless. She was going to get soaked.
“I swear to God I’m going to kill him, right after I find him.”
“Who?”
Tessa looked up as Serafina, Jo’s niece, entered the kitchen. Sera was visiting her aunt from London and had spent the past several days testing recipes with Tessa. As a child, she’d spent years helping at her aunt’s restaurant down the beach and her knack for putting together flavors was enviable. And her knowledge of the area surrounding the hotel detailed.
“Tristan. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
Sera shook her head, her ebony corkscrew curls bouncing against her shoulders. “No. Though I’m surprised he’d be out in this.” She cocked her head towards the back door.
“Very little he does surprises me anymore,” Tessa muttered. “I’m worried about him. I can’t find him anywhere, and with the storm about to hit….” She trailed off.
“You’ve checked with Peter?”
“Yeah. With Peter. Security checked his room. I’ve been down to the worksite at the spa. He’s not answering his phone and there’s no sign of him anywhere.”
“What about the cabin?”
Tessa turned sharply. “The cabin?”
“Yeah. Have you never seen it?”
“Uh, no.”
“I guess you wouldn’t have, unless someone pointed it out to you. It’s hidden behind a large outcropping of rocks. Maybe fifty yards past the spa building? It’s not on hotel property. Doesn’t really belong to anyone, actually.”
“It’s abandoned?”
“Not really,” Sera explained. “More that it’s there in case someone needs it. A surfer, or a traveler. Someone who’s on the island but wants to keep to themselves.”
“You think he could be there?” Tessa worked hard to keep from getting too hopeful, but it sounded like the exact place Tristan would hide away.
“I don’t know. It’s possible. I haven’t been there in years, but Aunt Jo mentioned something about seeing smoke from the chimney not that long ago. It’s worth a shot.”
Tessa was fastening up her coat. “Can you take me?”
“I wish I could. But I have to get back to the restaurant. I’m already late and if I miss Aunt Jo I’ll be stranded. I just wanted to drop these off.” Sera indicated to the bag of fruit she was holding. “But I’ll definitely point you in the right direction.”
“Thank you!”
The rain was already heavy when they reached the hotel’s back terrace. Squinting, Tessa looked where Sera pointed. “You have to go via the beach. Once you’ve passed the spa, it’s about a ten-minute walk. There’ll be a wall of rocks that juts out from the left. The cabin is tucked behind it. You won’t see the building from the water line, but once you reach the rocks you shouldn’t have any problem finding it.”
Tessa nodded, feeling significantly less sure than Sera sounded. Even under the partial cover of the hotel’s awning, she was already wet. “Thanks. I really hope he’s there.”
“Me too. Good luck!” Sera ran back inside, leaving Tessa alone. She shielded her eyes from the rain with one hand as she took the stairs down to the beach as fast as she could.
It wasn’t until she got to the sand that she realized just how strong the gusts had gotten. Tessa could walk, but she had to lean forward, like she was cutting into the wind with her body. The sky had gotten significantly darker since she’d arrived at the kitchen earlier. The blackish-gray above was almost indistinguishable from the steely ocean, but Tessa could hear the waves crashing violently nearby. Her feet sank into the wet sand and the rain—now coming down in sheets—stung her face and scalp.
Even with both hands shielding her face, it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of her.
Tessa kept her eyes off to the left, tracking landmarks as she went. The spa was relatively easy to spot, with the scaffolding wrapped around the back of the building. Her morning perch came next. But once she cleared the property line, Tessa was lost. She’d never been on this part of the beach and had no clue how wide it was, or how close to the water she was walking.
A squall slammed into her and Tessa swallowed a scream. You’re fine. You’re not going to freak out. Everything’s going to be fine. She mouthed the words over and over again, hoping it would prevent her lips from trembling.
The pep-talk stopped when her foot
caught on something and she pitched forward, her hands catching her just before her face crashed into the sand. “Fuuuuuuck.” Tessa lay there for a second and shivered, the water seeping into her clothes. The cabin had to be close. Right?
“I’m going to get there. Make sure he’s safe. Then kill him.”
Tessa’s teeth were chattering. The air wasn’t cold, but the wind whipped through her like she was nothing more than paper. The rain was cascading down her neck and into the collar of her coat. Even her bra and underwear were soaked.
“Go-going to f-f-fucking kill him,” she repeated, a tremor making her stutter.
You didn’t have to go looking for him, her mind shot back, pissed.
“Y-y-yes I did. I promised I’d make sure he came back.”
Tessa thought there was a good chance she was going crazy. She was having a full-blown conversation with herself as she forced her way down the beach in the middle of a hurricane. Strike that. There was no chance. She was insane. But she was also right. She had promised. Grace. Mark. And herself.
Tristan had run away. She didn’t doubt it for one second. He’d lashed out at her, for some unfathomable reason, and then had run. But regardless of what he’d said, they were friends. And there was no way in hell she was going to leave her friend alone in a storm.
Tessa brushed her hands off on her already ruined pants and looked around. She was surrounded by hard, wet gray. The sky felt like it was right above her head, the rain battering her from every angle as the wind howled and the sound of the crashing waves got closer.
“Just keep going, Tessa. Keep going.” Each step took more effort than the last, her legs locked tight as she slipped in the sand.
She didn’t know how many more minutes passed before she saw something dark loom up from the ground. It had to be the rock outcropping. Nothing she’d passed had even come close to looking right. This had to be it.
Tessa reached out a hand, hoping to feel her way around the barrier.
“Tristan!” She doubted he could hear her, but it was worth a shot. Anything to get her out of the storm faster. “Tristan!”
She inched forward, hands first, then feet, rain ricocheting off her shoulders. Her left palm snagged on something and Tessa let out a shout. She couldn’t see the gouge clearly, but it felt deep. The trail of blood made her palm even slicker as it seeped down her arm.
The ground dipped. Tessa thought she must have reached the edge of the rocks. If she could just stay close enough she could feel her way around to the other side, heading away from the water.
She was at the outermost tip of the formation when the wind whipped around and slammed her back against the jagged surface. Her forehead hit. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to have her flinching in pain. Everything went fuzzy, what little detail she’d been able to make out moments ago gone.
Tessa could feel the panic clogging her esophagus. For the first time since she’d left the hotel, she realized just how much danger she was in. She’d known going out in the storm was risky, at best. Shit, her stomach had been in knots since before she’d even made the decision. But she’d been an idiot. Because she hadn’t realized how high the waves had gotten, or how much of the beach was now under water.
She knew how to swim, but she’d be no match for those waves. They’d pull her under. There wasn’t a question. There was no way she’d survive it.
Tessa had lost her grip on the wall when she’d knocked her head. She had to find it again. It was the only way she could figure out where she was or where she needed to go.
“TRISTAN!” she screamed. If he was anywhere close by, she needed him to hear her. She needed him to come find her.
Tessa opened her mouth to scream again when a wall of water crashed into her side. It pushed her back, slamming her shoulder into the rocks. Salt water flooded her mouth and she curled against the rough surface, her body wracked with coughs.
You’re not going to drown here. You’re not going to drown here. Please, don’t let me drown here….
Gathering her strength, Tessa made another push to get around the rock pile. Her fingers scrambled, then found an edge. She swore it curved back in the direction she needed to go. She gripped as hard as she could, ignoring the pain that bolted up her arm as the gash in her palm widened. Her arms were shaking, but Tessa managed to drag herself to the farthest edge of the outcropping.
With a grunt, Tessa yanked her upper body forward, wrapping herself around the side. Her shoulders and head were protected by the back side of the rocks, her hips and legs still exposed to the ocean. She was getting pummeled by rain and waves, but she could finally pull in air without swallowing water.
Her throat burned. From screaming, from saltwater, from fear, she didn’t know. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed past the pain, gathering the little strength she had left. She had to try.
“TRISTAAAAAAN!” Her shout was swallowed by the sea crashing around her. Tessa felt her knees buckle as they slammed into the rocks, the pressure punishing against her hips, her feet sinking deeper into the sand.
Tessa was twisted around. Her hands were slipping, blood streaming from the cut on her left one, as she pressed the side of her face against the cold, hard surface. At least there, partially protected, she could breathe. Not by much, not with the way her stomach was stretched around the wall’s outer edge. But as long as she could breathe, she could scream.
“TRIIIIISSTAAAAAAA—” Another pounding from behind knocked the air out of her. Tessa felt her feet slide backwards, pulled by the current curling around her ankles. She wasn’t going to make it. She couldn’t hold on, and she couldn’t pull herself free from the water building behind her.
When the next wave came, Tessa closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t slip away.
* * *
Tristan stood on the cabin’s sad excuse of a porch and listened hard. Water was pouring off the corrugated roof in sheets, the beach beyond barely visible through the channels cut by irregular arches in the roof line.
The rock outcropping that protected the cabin from the wind was roughly twenty-five feet ahead of him, the shoreline at high-tide usually another thirty feet or so past that. But the storm was raging, and the waves were lapping the base of the stones.
Between the wind and the water, the noise was intense. But Tristan could have sworn he heard someone shouting.
He toed the edge of the porch and tilted his head, trying to hear past the gusts of rain. He froze, his skin prickling when he heard it again.
It was faint, but undeniable. Someone was out there.
“Fuck!” He yanked the ratty jacket from off the inside hook of the cabin’s door and pulled it on, tugging the hood out as far as it would go. It wouldn’t be much protection against the rain, not with it coming down at so sharp an angle. But anything was better than nothing.
Tristan was soaked the second he stepped off the porch. Water found every hole and tear in the abandoned coat, saturating his shirt beneath. His jeans were instantly waterlogged and puddles formed in his boots.
He steadied himself against the initial shock and cleared the rain from his face. He hadn’t imagined it. Something—someone—was clinging to the rocks.
That someone was screaming his name.
Tessa.
Tristan’s brain couldn’t compute what his eyes and ears were telling him. There was no way she could be out there. There was no reason in the entire fucking world for her to be out there.
Unless she came looking for you….
The thought had him on the verge of throwing up, bile coating the back of his throat the same instant he sprang forward. His balance was thrown off by the shifting sand, tunnels of water mangling the terrain beneath him.
“She promised. She fucking promised,” he chanted, racing towards the rocks. She was terrified of storms. There was no way she’d be out in one. Tristan slipped, his legs twisting. It took him a second to straighten out, his thighs jerking as he pushed forward. But he neve
r looked away from the rocks.
He was feet away. He could see her. It had to be her. She was small, curled around the corner of the outcropping, her delicate fingers almost invisible against the wet stone. Her hair hung in tangled ropes that shook when a rush of water hit her.
Tristan couldn’t see her face. But he couldn’t miss her scream. One word. His name. It reverberated through his blood, the cry more painful with every heartbeat.
He heard the wave before it hit. It sounded like the air was tearing in two, primordial and angry. And it would take Tessa with it.
Tristan reached the rocks a split second before the rush of water. He grabbed at her hands, catching and slipping, rain and something else making it impossible to hold on. The wave broke against the rocks and Tessa surged forward, her entire body jolted by the force. It was enough. Tristan was able to grab the sleeves of her jacket just as the water rushed backwards, ripping her fingers off the rocks.
Tristan’s grip was vise-like. Her wrists would be bruised. Along with the rest of her. He didn’t think, just held tighter, his shoulders and hips braced against the protected inner face of the rock wall. The next wave would hit, pushing Tessa forward, and Tristan prayed it would give him enough leverage to yank the lower half of her body around the wall.
He closed his eyes and counted. Three…two…one…CRASH!
Tristan pulled, ignoring the pain where the rocks dug into his shoulder, using the current to twist Tessa forward, dragging her behind the rocks before the retreating tide could pull her out to sea.
Tristan’s eyes were shut against the rain and his own black fear, but he could feel Tessa’s weight in his arms. She was still there. He had her.
The earth was rumbling again, the waves gathering for another onslaught. Tristan hauled Tessa up and ran.
14
Tessa wouldn’t stop shaking. Tristan stripped off her coat and shirt, careful of the abrasions on her hand and arms. Her pants were harder to remove, the fabric so wet it was practically glued to her skin.