Awry

28

A week after Scarlet’s eyes had flashed and Tristan had fled, Heather’s voice cut through Scarlet’s thoughts. “You’re doing it again.”

Outside the coffee shop windows, snow was quietly falling on the town. January was almost over and people were bundled up against the winter weather and buzzing about the fair next month. Scarlet watched Marge, a homeless woman who lived off of Main Street, shuffle through the cold and her heart squeezed in sympathy.

“What?” Scarlet pulled her eyes away from Marge and looked at Heather, seated across from her at The Millhouse coffee shop. “What am I doing?”

“Staring off into space while I’m talking to you.”

“Oh.” Scarlet looked directly into Heather’s brown eyes. “Sorry.”

A pretty woman with dark hair approached their table, wearing a Millhouse apron and carrying two mugs in her hands.

“Hi, Heather,” the woman said with a warm smile, setting down a tall white mug in front of Heather and a red mug in front of Scarlet. “Can’t get enough of our coffee, huh? Coming in on your days off?”

Heather worked at The Millhouse four nights a week to support her shopping habit. And her coffee habit.

Heather smiled. “Well, you know me. Can’t go a day without coffee. Clare, this is my friend Scarlet,” Heather gestured to Scarlet, “Scarlet, this is my boss, Clare. She owns The Millhouse.”

“Nice to meet you,” Scarlet said, shaking hands with Clare. “Your coffee is delicious.”

Clare smiled. “Well, you know what they say; whoever controls the caffeine controls the happiness.” Clare winked. “You girls enjoy your drinks. Nice to meet you, Scarlet.” Clare shuffled away to serve more customers.

Heather looked at Scarlet. “So…anyway, back to you staring at the stars. Again.”

Scarlet shook her head, feeling guilty for not paying attention earlier. “I’m listening now. What were you saying?”

“I was talking about the fair and whether or not the mayor will wind up in the dunk tank again, but I think we should probably talk about what’s on your mind instead.”

“Nothing’s on my mind.”

Heather glared at her.

“What?” Scarlet took a sip of hot chocolate from the red mug and burned her tongue.

Stupid hot beverages.

Heather jutted her chin. “Don’t act like you’re fine, Scarlet. I know you. You’re upset. And you’ve been all mopey ever since your eyes flashed and….” Heather paused and her eyes widened. “It’s Tristan, isn’t it?”

Scarlet opened her mouth to respond.

“O-M-G,” Heather interrupted. “You’re crushing on Gabriel’s twin brother, aren’t you? You’re all sad that he’s gone!”

“I’m not sad that he left. I’m just….surprised.”

“You’re surprised that a guy who cares about you doesn’t want you to die?” Heather took a sip of her coffee, somehow managing to avoid any tongue burns.

“No, I’m surprised he didn’t say goodbye.”

“Well, of course he didn’t say goodbye.” Heather put down her mug. “You would have convinced him to stay.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, please.” Heather rolled her eyes. “You would have been like Oh, Tristan, please don’t go. Stay with me so I can crush on you and giggle at everything you say.” Heather nodded. “That’s what it would have been like. In that high-pitched voice and everything.”

“First of all, I don’t giggle,” Scarlet said. “Second, I am not crushing on Tristan.”

Heather waved a hand. “You think he’s attractive. Admit it.”

Scarlet squinted at her. “Of course I think he’s attractive. He’s Gabriel’s twin brother.”

“Yeah.” Heather took another drink. “That’s what makes this whole…” Heather waved her hand in a big circle in front of Scarlet, “…thing…sick. And hot. It’s a sick, hot mess.” Heather took another drink. “You have a thing for your boyfriend’s twin brother.”

Scarlet leaned forward. “There’s no thing.”

“Oh, there’s a thing.”

Scarlet shook her head.

“Really?” Heather leaned back in her seat. “Then why do you miss him so much? And why do you blush when you talk about him? And why, on earth, are you wearing those boots with that skirt?” Heather’s eyes darted to Scarlet’s shoes. “I know you’re from, like, biblical times or whatever, but really? This isn’t 1996, Scarlet. And even if it was…that skirt? Seriously.”

Scarlet ignored Heather’s criticism. “I miss Tristan because….” Scarlet searched for a reason that had nothing to do with her attraction to him. “It’s a…it’s a curse thing.”

Yeah. That sounded good.

Heather set her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her hand. “I’m listening.”

“Tristan and I are connected.”

“Yes, I know. He can ‘feel’ you. Which sounds both sexy and creepy.”

Scarlet nodded. “And I can feel him.”

Heather’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”

“I can feel when he’s near and when he’s anxious.” Scarlet swallowed. “I know when he’s sad and when he’s jealous. I can feel him. I feel everything.”

Heather ran her fingers across her lips thoughtfully. “And how does that explain your crush?”

“I don’t have a cru—” Scarlet closed her eyes, took a breath, and looked back at her friend. “I’m drawn to him, that’s all.”

“Because of the curse?” Heather looked at Scarlet skeptically.

“Yes.”

Liar.

Scarlet looked down at her mug and felt for Tristan. She felt the pain his body bore and she could feel his heart softly beating behind hers. Constant. Steady.

Odd how she never seemed to notice it before her mini-death. But there it was, silently hovering alongside her heart, whispering a heartbeat that felt familiar and faded.

Was he far away? Was he close?

Did it matter?

Scarlet sighed. “I just don’t think it’s fair for Tristan to put himself through physical pain because my stupid eyes flashed one time. Wherever he is right now, he’s hurting. I can feel it.” Scarlet pointed to her chest, where Tristan’s heart rocked against her own. “I’m hurting him.”

Heather slowly nodded. Placing her hands flat on the table between them, she leaned forward until Scarlet met her eyes. “It might not be fair, but it’s safe. And if you want to live long enough to find the fountain, safe is the way to go. Forget Tristan.”

That was impossible. Scarlet couldn’t remember Tristan from her past, but somehow she knew she could never forget him either.

Which was something she didn’t know how to explain to Heather. So she didn’t.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlet said. “You’re right. I’m safe. I’m still healthy. And Tristan being gone is good for me.” She nodded, feeling her stomach drop to the floor. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Heather’s lips turned up, but her smile looked forced.

Scarlet took another sip of her drink, burning her tongue again.

Stupid, stupid hot drinks.

The next day, Tristan woke up to fresh snow falling on the trees of the Avalon forest.

Tristan had tried to put distance between him and Scarlet last week, but he’d only made it to the highway before his body started to revolt in agony.

He spent the first night away from her in a motel at the edge of town, writhing in pain in her absence. Their connection was stronger than ever, making it impossible for him to put any real distance between them.

Realizing he wouldn’t physically be able to leave Avalon, Tristan had made a new plan that would keep him in town, but away from Scarlet.

He remembered the shack, broken and abandoned, on the Archer property and resolved to hole up there. It seemed fitting to isolate himself amidst the trees and the stars. A place no one else knew about. A place of silence.

So Tristan had spent the last week sleeping in the shack. His body had not stopped aching though. Not once.

He looked out of one of the dusty windows at the falling flecks of white. Along with the morning snow came a sense of peace. Tristan wasn’t as far away as he wanted to be from Scarlet, but he was far enough away to keep her safe.

And that was all that mattered.

Maybe in his absence, Scarlet, Nate and Gabriel would find the fountain. Tristan thought briefly of what it would mean to live without the curse.

He would live without pain.

Scarlet would live with a healthy heart.

Gabriel would live with the freedom to love whomever he wanted.

But would any of them really be free of the centuries of heartache?

Probably not.

A chill tickled his spine as he moved away from the window and started making a mental list of all the things he needed to do to fix up the shack. He’d already replaced the door and the couch. Now he needed to gut the place, clean it and refurnish it.

Tristan had his work cut out for him.

Good.