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“This is not your fault, Gardenia. Tristan would’ve come here alone. And you know that.” He kisses the top of my head. “He’ll pull through. He’s too stubborn to give up now.”

“Poor Aunt Freya. I can’t be the one to tell her her son is dying…again. She’s been through this already. No one should have to bury the two most important people in their lives.” I pull away to look up at Jacob.

The kindness in his hazel eyes comforts me. And I feel like a complete asshole for asking him to be here for me when I know it hurts him to be near me. I will never regret begging him to come back to the States with us. Last week when he told me and Dad that he wanted to stay in the UK, I about lost my shit. I can’t fathom being anywhere without him. He’s my rock.

“I’m glad you’re here.” I attempt a smile, but the sadness spreading through my body washes it away almost immediately.

“Me too.” He releases a breath as his gaze drops to my mouth for a second.

I fist his shirt with both hands, wishing I could give him what he wants. “We should call Dad first. He’ll know how to deliver the news to Aunt Freya.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” His serenity is infectious to a point where I feel the turmoil inside me dissipate. He drops his arms to his sides and walks to the driver seat to grab his phone. He taps on the screen and holds it between us while it rings.

“Jacob, where are you?” Dad answers.

“Dad, Tristan got shot,” I blurt out. I try to explain what happened but everything else I say comes out in between sobs and is high-pitched.

“Okay.” Jacob hugs me to him, then says, “He’s in surgery now. Dr. Salvatore is tending to him personally. I’ll drop you a pin. There’s no rush. She said it would take hours. Just get here when you can.”

“Jesus.” Dad breathes into the speakerphone. “How bad is it?”

“He got shot in the back, Dad.” I push away from Jacob. “It’s bad. It’s as bad as it gets. He was so cold. Like he was dead.”

“But he wasn’t.” Jacob turns away from me and continues to give Dad a full recount of everything that happened tonight.

If Tristan had listened to us and not gone after Paloma by himself, he wouldn’t be in this mess. But no, he had to go in and save her, play the hero for her, even though she never asked him to do anything. Anger swirls in my stomach. All of this is her fault. There’s no way that by now she doesn’t know that the Senator killed Tristan’s dad.

So why would she leave the beach house with Tristan? What was her plan? To run away with him? And then what? Visit her murderer of a father over Christmas. Spend his birthday at the beach. Jesus fuck. How can she possibly think that her and Tristan have a future together. Her father is a fucking killer.

“I want to see him,” I say to Jacob after he hangs up with Dad.

“Donata said there’s a room where we can wait. Come on.” He puts his arm around me and ushers me inside.

The hospital is a maze. Either Jacob has been here before or Donata gave him specific instructions on where to go. He pulls me into a bathroom and walks me to the sink. I’m confused as to why we need washing until I glance down. He has my hands in his while he gets soap from the dispenser. Then carefully, he begins to rub suds all over my arms to dissolve the caked-on blood. I can’t stop the tears. So, I just let him do what he wants while I stare at the bloody water rising in the sink.

“The van,” I say.

“I’ll take care of it. It’ll be easier to just replace the carpet.” His smile is there for a split second before his frown wins over. He’s worried too, but he’ll never show it.

At some point after much scrubbing, we end up in the cafeteria. At this hour, it’s only us and one other family. Jacob finds us a table and awful tasting coffee. I drink it just to feel something. Since they took Tristan, everything feels numb.

“He’ll make it. You’ll be able to torture him on the daily sooner than you think.” Jacob sits across from me, bracing his arms on his knees. “Try and stay calm when Freya gets here. Yeah?”

“What do you mean?” I squint at him. “I’m calm.”

“I know the look in your eyes.” He raises both eyebrows. “You’re angry. And I’m pretty sure I know who you’re blaming this on.”

“Everything has gone south since the moment he met her.” I meet his gaze. “And you know that.”

“You don’t get to choose for him,” he deadpans.

“She’s dangerous. Maybe more so than her father. She has Tristan wrapped around her little finger. And she doesn’t care that she’s hurting him. That she’s messing with his head.” I suck in a breath. “He’s blinded by her beauty and…” I swallow so I don’t choke on the word. “And all the sex. He doesn’t see her for what she is.”

“She’s in love with him too.” Jacob sits back on his chair. “And if you could put your feelings for him aside for just a second, you would see that too. Let them be. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“What does that even mean?” I look away.

“You’re planning something.” He points a long finger at my face. “And by the pout on your lips, I know it’s something that is going to make Tristan furious when he wakes up.”