Page 14

14

Lena

O ne of the things Lena loved most about her father’s house was the huge fireplace, which served to separate the living area from the dining area, and could be seen from both rooms.

Tonight it roared comfortingly from behind the layer of glass. Unfortunately, it also made her feel sleepy as hell. Not that it took much to make her feel sleepy these days. She was about ready to go to bed when her father’s phone rang from the kitchen, where he was pouring himself a post-dinner coffee—her father was immune to caffeine. He set the mug down as he reached for his phone.

His posture changed immediately.

Straightened. Tensed.

His voice dropped to that low, authoritative tone she knew all too well.

Something’s wrong .

Lena stood up as well, all thoughts of sleep forgotten, every nerve in her body suddenly on edge.

Her father spoke in short, clipped sentences. “Where? … How bad? … ETA?” A pause. And then a word that made her stomach drop. “And Devallé?”

Her father turned slightly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Understood. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Lena grabbed onto the edge of the sofa, her knuckles turning white.

She didn’t think she’d heard the word, but somehow she already knew.

A crash.

A helicopter crash.

And she knew also, before she even asked, before her father could say another word, who had been in that helicopter.

“It’s Tristan, isn’t it? Tell me what happened.”

Her father barely looked up as he grabbed his coat. “Lena—” Then he seemed to think better of it. “One of our helicopters crashed in the mountains. Three of my men were in it. Lieutenant Devallé was one of them.”

“Is he?—“

“They’re all alive, for now, and on their way to the hospital.”

Her body trembled. For now.

“I’m coming with you.” Her voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Her father exhaled through his nose. “No.” His voice softened. “You’re still recovering, Lena, and there’s no?—“

“From a sprained ankle, not a heart attack, Papa .” She ignored the clenching of his jaw. “He saved my life out in the mountains?—”

“This isn’t about you.” .

“No. It’s about him.”

Her father hesitated. That was all she needed.

She grabbed her coat, shoving her arms into the sleeves before he could protest. “I’m coming, whether you like it or not.”

As they stepped outside, the cold night hit her full force, but she barely felt it.

All she could think about was Tristan.

In the car, her father took an unexpected left turn. “That’s not the way to the hospital …”

Her father’s jaw was clenched so tight, it was a surprise he was able to get the words out. “They’ve been airlifted to the Annecy hospital.”

So it’s bad . Chamonix’s Hopitaux du Mont Blanc had a good emergency department, but its experience was mainly in mountain traumatology. Falls, breaks and sprains. For more serious emergencies, Annecy was the better hospital.

Neither of them spoke again. Her father gripped the steering wheel too tightly, his jaw a hard line, his profile illuminated in the glow of the dashboard. A few times, he cleared his throat, and Lena thought he was going to say something, but in the end seemed to think better of it.

For a while, Lena leaned her head against the car window and pretended to sleep. The rest of the time, she stared out into the night, not really seeing the road ahead. Her reflection—pale, drawn, eyes wide with fear—stared back at her.

Tristan .

The name pulsed in her mind, over and over, like a steady, unrelenting drumbeat.

She wasn’t ready to talk. It was hard enough to think, the way the thoughts crowded in her head. But there was one thought, on repeat, that wouldn’t leave her. You lied to him . You told him you didn’t want anything to do with him. Because you were afraid. Afraid of what the ending would be. So afraid, you never gave it a chance. He’d made it clear he wanted to see her again. And she’d wanted it, too. So badly. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. But she’d been too afraid.

Of course you were afraid to get involved.

Look at what’s happening now.

She closed her eyes again, but instead of blocking out the fear, it just amplified it. She saw flashes of wreckage, twisted metal, the smell of jet fuel thick in the air, Tristan slumped over in the pilot’s seat, blood staining his uniform?—

Her eyes snapped open.

She took a deep, shaking breath and clenched her fingers tighter.

The roads blurred by. Arriving in Annecy, her father drove without hesitation. He seemed to know exactly where to go. Of course he does. He’s been here before.

At the hospital’s near-empty parking lot, Lena stepped out of the car, stretching her legs. Her ankle twinged, reminding her she’d forgotten to put the brace back on. She’d been taking it off more and more, as the therapist had suggested, but maybe tonight would have been a good time to use it.

Her father stepped beside her. “This way,” he said.

Hands curled into fists inside her coat pockets, Lena forced herself to follow. She wanted to run ahead, and she also wanted to stop and stick her head in the proverbial sand. Because once they were inside the hospital, this would all become real.

Tristan.

“Madou?” her father asked as he pulled the glass door open, stepping aside to let her through. “Would you rather wait in the car until I?—“

Lena didn’t bother answering. She was already holding herself together by sheer force of will. But she wasn’t going to wait in the car.

Her father headed straight to a waiting room, where Beau Fontaine and another tall, athletic-looking man were already waiting. Her father made short work of introductions. “Beau Fontaine. Lorenz van der Berg. You remember my daughter, Madeleine.”

“Please call me Lena,” she said, shaking Beau’s hand. She didn’t shake Lorenz’s hand because his right hand was in a cast. It looked brand new.

“I’m not sure what happened. We were reaching the refuge. And then, suddenly, we were falling. Falling fast.” His jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with something darker—not just pain, but memory. “Tristan kept us steady long enough to land without too much damage, but...”

“Alex?”

“He was knocked unconscious by the crash, but the CT scan was clear. Yvette’s with him.”

“And Tristan?” The words lodged in her throat, suffocating her. “Please.” Please tell me.

“He was conscious when we landed. He helped me get Alex to the refuge. At first, I didn’t realize he was hurt, I?—

Her knees almost buckled. She forced herself to breathe. Keep it together. “How is he?” she asked, swallowing against the tightness in her throat.

“He didn’t tell me he was hurt.”

Beau let out a humorless laugh. “Of course he didn’t.”

Lena felt ice slide down her spine.

Of course he didn’t. Because that was the kind of man he was—the kind of man they all were. That’s why she had to stay away. Except … what had staying away bought her? She’d wasted time, time they could have spent together, and now …

Her father, who had been silent until now, crossed his arms. “What do the doctors say?”

It was Beau who answered. “Internal bleeding. Liver laceration. It took a while before they realized. Val—my wife,” he added, clearly for her benefit, “is inside with him. She’s a doctor in Chamonix, and she has friends in Annecy as well.”

Liver laceration .

She’d never heard the term before, but it didn’t sound good. Livers are obviously important. She wished she’d paid more attention in biology class. She should sit. Maybe breathe. Breathing was a good idea.

“They took him into surgery an hour ago.”

Lena’s pulse roared in her ears.

Her father spoke, his voice level, calm, steady in a way that made her want to scream. “Prognosis?”

Beau looked at Lorenz, then back at them.

“He lost a lot of blood, but they think they got to it in time.”

Lena exhaled so sharply it hurt. They think . The walls of the waiting room felt like they were closing in.

Her father was asking more questions, rational things, things a military officer should ask. Lena was having trouble listening.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, hands braced on the edge of the nearest chair, staring at the floor, trying to steady herself.

She hadn’t seen Tristan since the charity auction.

Hadn’t let herself admit what he meant to her.

And now…

She had no idea if she’d ever get the chance.

The shrill ring tone of her father’s phone broke into her thoughts. “I have to get this,” he said, walking out of the room. Lena barely noticed. Her full attention was on a woman with bright red hair who walked in through another door, marked Accès réservé au personnel médical . She was young—much younger than Beau—but there was no doubt who she was as she walked up to him and placed her hand gently on his arm.

“He’s stable,” she said, addressing them all. The ringing in Lena’s ears got worse, but she forced herself to listen. She needed to hear what the woman was saying. “The surgeon will be out soon, but he gave me permission to come out and talk to you already. The bleeding was bad at first, and we thought he might need a partial hepatectomy, but the surgeon was able to stop the bleeding with an embolization instead.”

“That’s … better?” Lena asked. Her voice sounded tinny to her own ears.

The woman looked at her. “Much better. It’s a minimally invasive procedure to stop the bleeding. Tristan’s going to be fine. I’m Val, by the way,” she finished, offering Lena her hand.

Lena shook it. “Lena.”

“Lena is Colonel Pelegrin’s daughter,” Beau said meaningfully.

“Ah … we’ve heard a lot about you, Lena.”

Lena winced. “From the day I got lost in the mountains?”

Val smiled. “No. From Tristan. Good things only, I promise.”

Lena felt herself blush. “Is he really going to be okay?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Val said, “and I don’t make such promises lightly. He should be waking up soon. Maybe you want to see him?”

Lena took a small step back. “No, I … it’s not like that, between us.”

Val took her hand in hers. “We’ll go in, just the two of us. I want to check on Alex anyway.”

“How’s he doing?” Lorenz asked, rubbing the cast absentmindedly.

“Grade 3 concussion, but I left him arguing with his doctor about why he didn’t need to stay the night in the hospital.” She shrugged. “Yvette was on the doctor’s side, so I’m pretty sure how that worked out for him.”

“We’ll pick him up tomorrow morning,” Lorenz concluded, laughing.

Val smiled. “Come with me, Lena.”

Lena hesitated. She’d be selfish to accept. Here was his team, who’d been waiting to see him. And she was just going to come in and?—

She didn’t care. She needed to see Tristan. Seeing him with her own eyes was the only way she was going to start breathing again.

A fter checking in with the nurse on duty, who raised a hand in the universal sign for five minutes only , Val brought her to Tristan’s room.

The extra-wide door, designed to accommodate hospital beds, scared Lena more than she wanted to admit.

“Go on,” Val said gently. “He should be awake. I’ll go check on Alex and come back to find you, okay?”

“Okay. And, Val? Thank you.” The woman had only just met her. She didn’t have to do this.

Val smiled, a reassuring, knowing smile. “Relax. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Alone in the hallway, Lena took a deep breath to steady herself. It didn’t help much. Her hands felt ice cold, her pulse too fast, her stomach twisting into knots as she reached for the door handle. She didn’t want to knock in case she woke him up, but barging in unannounced seemed wrong as well.

In the end, she decided waking him up was worse, so she pushed the door open and quietly stepped inside. Tristan was lying on the narrow bed, his upper half propped up slightly, his face pale and lined with exhaustion. An IV was taped to his forearm. Everything was silent except for the steady beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor.

A fresh bruise darkened the side of his jaw and neck, disappearing beneath the hospital gown. But it was his blue eyes that caught her breath in her throat.

They were open.

Watching her.

Lena froze, suddenly unsure of what to do with herself. She’d been running on fear, running on the need to get to him, ever since she heard about the accident—and now that she was here, she felt adrift.

“Hey,” Tristan murmured, voice rough, hoarse. “If I’d known this was what it took to see you, I would have crashed a helicopter sooner.”

Lena blanched.

“That was a joke. Sorry. Bad sense of humor.” He raised his hand, the one that wasn’t hooked to the IV, as if afraid she was going to bolt.

She blinked rapidly, trying to will away the sting behind her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Okay, stupid question. But she’d be damned if she could think of another one.

The corner of his mouth tipped up slightly, but it wasn’t his usual smirk. It was weaker. Slower.

“Doctors patched me up. I need to stay here a couple of days, though.” He shifted in bed, winced, then quickly smoothed his features. “Nobody will tell me anything about Alex and Lorenz. Have you seen them?”

“I met Beau and Lorenz outside. Lorenz’s wrist was in a cast, but he seems fine. Val’s here, too. She’s with Alex, trying to convince him that he should spend the night in the hospital.” She paused. “I guess that means he’s feeling okay?”

Tristan huffed a quiet, amused sound. “Alex doesn’t like hospitals.”

“You don’t either, do you?”

His gaze flickered to hers, something unreadable in his expression. “No. Not really.” Then, softly—so softly she barely heard him—he added, “Thank you for coming.”

Lena’s chest tightened.

She looked away, focusing on the heart monitor instead of him, because that was easier. Safer .

“I was home when my dad got the call.” She swallowed. “I couldn’t … I couldn’t not come.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him how badly he’d scared her, how not ready she was for something like this … but this wasn’t the right moment.

Tristan was silent for a long time. Then, in a voice lower, more careful, he said, “I’m sorry I sent so many messages—before you told me you weren’t interested, I mean.”

She snapped her gaze back to him.

“I don’t want you to think I’m a stalker.” He exhaled sharply. “I just—there’s something about you that?—”

Lena’s heart pounded. She swallowed hard. “I know. I feel it, too.”

“Up there, after the crash, the first thing I could think about was how I might never have had the chance to say?—”

He stopped.

The silence stretched between them.

“I was wrong. I thought I could protect us from … from something, but now I realize it doesn’t work that way. I’d like to spend more time together,” she confessed, her fingers gripping the edge of the hospital bed. “When you’re out, I mean.”

“Right. I imagined that’s what you meant,” he said, a slow smile curving his lips. He dragged a slow, careful breath, then exhaled. “I want that too. And I’m glad you’re here.”

“Should I call someone for you? Your parents or?—”

“Not unless I’m dying, please,” he said. “They’re in Geneva right now, anyway.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Her relationship with her father was not the best, but she definitely wouldn’t have wanted him in the dark when she got hurt.

“My parents are great,” he explained. “But my father’s a busy man. I don’t think he’d appreciate coming back early from his trip to find out I’m just fine.”

Just fine seemed a bit of an exaggeration, but she let it go.

Instead, she reached out—hesitantly at first—her fingers barely brushing against his.

Tristan turned his free hand over, catching her fingers in his, holding on.

And then, in a voice that was almost too quiet, he asked?—

“Will you stay? Just for a while?”

For the first time since she’d heard about the crash, Lena let herself breathe again.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’ll stay.”