Glancing over my shoulder, I try to locate the exit sign when I collide with a solid chest.
“Jesus Christ.” I turn and see Tristan’s concerned expression as he firmly grips my shoulders.
“Zoe? Are you okay?”
I shake my head vigorously.
“What happened?”
“Noth—hing,” I stammer in between breaths.
“Zoe,” Tristan whispers. His dark green eyes soften as he silently pleads with me, as if trying to bring me back from the edge.
Edge of what? Confusion? I don’t even know why I feel this way. It’s like depression hit me on the side of the head. A giant brick wall coming at me out of nowhere, making me want to hide in a corner and cry for hours.
I never learned how to deal with stress well.
“I’m fine,” I breathe, my chin quivering while I hopelessly try to stop myself from crying for the millionth time.
“You’re coming with me.” Tristan grips my side as he leads us through the hospital.
“I promise I’m fine.” I try to push away, but he firmly presses his palm against my back, guiding us past a bustling nurses’ station and down a grand staircase, which opens up to the large hospital main lobby.
“That’s nice. I’m happy you’re fine. Means you’re in a good mood to have coffee with me,” Tristan states, not bothering to look at me.
People rush from one place to another in the crowded lobby. The majority of them appear sad or worried. People often view hospitals as a gathering place for immense sadness. Few reasons for coming here bring joy, and us being here today only reinforces that belief.
Tristan’s cologne smells expensive, surrounding me as we navigate through the crowd, heading toward the rear of the lobby and the hospital cafeteria. I notice that my imminent panic attack is starting to fade away. I don’t think Tristan realizes how he just saved me.
“You’re too in your head, Zoe.”
One second we’re walking, the next Tristan is pulling out a metal chair and guiding me down onto it.
“What?”
“You need to talk about this, the way you’re feeling. Everything that was thrown at you. The last-minute move to your brother’s house, a new city, being thrown into fake dating a hockey player. Even though it’s probably the realest thing you’ve had in a long time.” Tristan runs a hand through his auburn hair, his eyes studying me carefully for any reaction to his last statement.
“I told you before, there is nothing going on between Dom and me.”
“Yeah, and I’m telling you to cut the crap. It’s just me and you. And I’m not your brother, not that he would judge you for it.”
I snort. “You don’t know him. He would do more than judge.”
Tristan raises a brow at me. “I may not know the old version of him, the one you shared a childhood with, but I know this version of him. Aaron might be a stubborn asshole half the time, but he cares deeply about you. He just doesn’t want you to get hurt. He would be livid to find out you didn’t trust him enough to go to him about this.”
“I know he cares, but he’s also controlling and has made threats before. It wouldn’t do anyone any good, Tristan. Plus, I don’t need his protection.”
Tristan leans over, his elbows pressing into the table as he stares into my eyes. “That’s all he knows, Zoe. He’s been conditioned to protect you from the very beginning because the people who were meant to never did. You two need to talk.”
I look down, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, my eyes struggling to bring the scuff marks on the vinyl cafeteria flooring into focus.
”Talk to me,” Tristan whispers.
I take in a deep breath. A part of me wants to open up and just spill everything I’ve been holding close to my chest. It’s been so hard to not talk to anyone about this. There is a lot of me that I hide, and for once, I want to just set it free. To throw aside the facade and just lean into all I’ve been pushing away for so long. It might feel good, but it would fucking burn at first contact, and I’d rather feel nothing than feel something.
“Zoe,” Tristan calls my name, pulling me from my thoughts.
Fuck it.
