“Going to the cops isn’t really a mindset we’re used to.” Tristan switches from the chair to the sofa, brushing my hair back. “You’re being hard on yourself.”
“Hadrian checked in on them.”
“And you got them out in the first place,” he replies. “That’s just teamwork.”
I make a noise. Maybe it’s a tiny bit of a laugh. “Can I have one of those beers?”
“Absolutely not. But I’m thrilled that you’re well enough to ask.”
Except I’m not. I lean forward, wanting to nap against his chest. He backs away, and there’s a snap of hurt at the withdrawal.
His brown eyes are warm, though. “Want to go light a candle?”
CHAPTER 30
Isolde
Saint Agnes is somber in the night.
Tristan holds the door open for me. The chapel is always open, though Father Francois has to fight other church staff. For safety reasons, they want to keep it locked down, but he’s always insisted at least one door remain open.
Most of the lights are off, and the ones that are on emit a soft yellow glow. The quiet here is peaceful, and my mind slackens. It’s no longer a whirl of crackling buzz, but true calm waves.
Part of me is surprised Tristan even let me out. The truth is no one knows when or where the next Spider will come from, so it’s not like hiding away will do any good. I believe he’ll strike sooner rather than later because I killed their family. But I also know no safe house will ever truly keep me safe.
Luis smiled when he saw me. I couldn’t speak to him, but he nodded as I got into the backseat of the SUV, and that was enough. I’m the one to blame anyway. I went with the Spider all on my own.
Tristan leads me toward the candle display before pausing. There’s a man in the pews toward the very front.
Hadrian.
Based on the grumpy look, Tristan wasn’t expecting him. I think I had been anyway.
This was his spot long before I ever knew about it anyway.
Tristan stuffs some money in the donation box and hands me a match. He lights three candles, and I wonder who they’re for.
I light all the unlit candles in front of me simply because it feels right. There’s one for Sammie. For my grandparents. For my soul because I killed a man with my bare hands. The rest are just for others. For the good people in my life. I don’t bother listing them out. I just let it be, the flame flickering.
Tristan sighs when I head down the aisle.
It’s after ten at night, but Hadrian is wearing a suit. He’s forgone the tie, though, and the first few buttons are undone.
“You finally snap out of it then?” he asks, his gaze on the altar.
“Not really,” I reply honestly. “But I did put on some trousers for the first time in a week.”
One corner of his mouth turns upward.
“I’ve been really out of it, haven’t I?” I pluck at my T-shirt, knowing the truth already.
“I stopped answering your friend Callahan’s phone calls. She keeps leaving me voicemails, though, cussing me out. She says it’s a form of stress relief.”
“Sorry about that.”
“You’re not,” he murmurs, our voices low in the night. “You’re happy it’s not you.”
Okay, so maybe there’s a reason I don’t want to pick up the phone when Ren calls.
