Page 28 of Keeping Caroline

Pressing a hand over my heart as a fresh wound ripped open in my chest, I watched his retreating form disappear into the dark hallway. What had I done? In my desire to protect myself, I’d hurt a great man—a friend—someone I knew had honorable intentions. All he’d wanted to do was be there for me, to take care of me, and I’d hurt him.

I stood in the kitchen long after he’d disappeared into the guestroom, adrift, anchorless, and alone, just like I always was.

Chapter 18

The Phantom

As the last wire clicked into place, the small LED on the control panel blinked to life, casting an emerald glow across my fingers. I let out a breath, trying to release some of the tension in my chest that shouldn't have been there after the night I'd had just over twenty-four hours earlier, but Caroline had barely spoken to me since, making it very clear she thought what we’d done together was a mistake. I didn't agree, and although we didn’t know each other well, we had an undeniable connection, so her cold shoulder cut deep.

"Should keep any threats at bay," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. Ethan grunted his approval from the doorway, his light blue eyes scanning the monitor we'd set up for all the cameras. We’d been working on Caroline’s security system for two days, beefing up the system she’d already had in place. This way, even when she was alone, I hoped she would sleep easier.

When Ethan and I finished with the cameras, I stepped into the kitchen where I found Caroline staring out the window, her reflection a ghost upon the glass. It took a moment before she seemed to notice my presence, her body stiffening even though she didn’t turn to look at me.

"Hey. Security system looks good.” I said, my voice low as I stepped farther into the room. “Are you okay?" Neither of us were okay. I knew that, but I didn’t know what else to say.

In her reflection, I saw a small smile lift the side of her mouth, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Fine. Just tired." Her voice was devoid of its usual melody, clipped like the wings of a caged bird. Longing and regret pierced through me, tightening my chest.

Although I knew sleeplessness wasn't the thief stealing the softness from her tone, and all I wanted to do was make her smile, I nodded. "That’s understandable."

Behind us, Ethan and Scarlett were setting up a board game at the table with Evie, and I couldn't help but feel like an outsider, a specter hovering on the fringes of their happiness. And Caroline, the woman who had somehow slipped past my defenses, whose taste was all I could think about, now seemed as unreachable as the stars above.

"Tristan," Scarlett called, snapping me back to the present. "Are you staying for dinner?"

Glancing at Caroline, who was still staring sightlessly out of the window, I shook my head. "Appreciate it, but I think I'll pass. I need to head back soon." My words felt hollow, even to my own ears. The idea of sitting at a table, surrounded by the warmth of family—next to a woman I wanted to touch more than anything—while grappling with my own sense of isolation, was more than I could bear.

"Suit yourself,” Scarlett replied with a shrug, but there was no sign of offense in her dismissal, thankfully. The last thing I wanted them to think was that I didn't want to be around them. I just thought it would be best if I wasn't for a while.

Retreating to the guest bedroom, I gathered up mine and Houdini's things, hoping Caroline would walk into the room and ask me to stay, but she didn't. The mountain air, crisp and tinged with the scent of pine, filtered through the open window, a subtle whisper of the freedom I was about to claim, but it was suffocating. Still, I zipped the bag with a steady hand, the possible finality of the motion reverberating through my chest. I was leaving, but every fiber of my being was screaming for me to stay, because I realized that once I left, she may not want to see me again. Just the thought of it was like a jagged blade to the heart.

"Tristan? Are you leaving?" Caroline’s voice broke through the silence, sending my stomach into a flip. Hope.

I turned, facing her and Evie, the child's bright eyes so much more joyful than her mother's guarded expression.

"Hey. Yes. I have some stuff I need to take care of back in Atlanta.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, and I think we both knew I didn't really need to leave, but I felt like I had to. "Just for a few days.”

A flicker of something—confusion, perhaps even hurt—crossed Caroline's features before she masked it with the practiced stoicism of a woman who had endured far too much loss.

Walking over to Evie, I crouched down to get more on her eye level. “Be good for your mom, okay?”

She threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. “Will you come back soon?”

I held her close for a moment longer, throat tightening. “Of course I'll come back. Houdini and me. You can get rid of me that easily, Captain."

Although it wasn't genuine, I forced a smile onto my face, glancing back up at Caroline as I stood. I ached to pull her into my arms but resisted. “Take care of yourself.” Unable to hide my emotions as well as hoped, my voice was rough.

She dipped her head. "Okay, well, be careful driving back,” she murmured, her voice just as unsure. Still, she didn't ask why I was leaving, or when I would return, but I could hear the undercurrent of something unsaid, a quarry of emotions she wasn't yet ready to voice.

Dipping my chin once more, I said goodbye to Scarlett and Ethan, grabbed my cat, and walked out into the twilight, the sky painted with streaks of fading light as day bled into night.

Once Houdini was inside the car, I lingered by the driver's side of my Mustang for a moment, stalling, hoping Caroline would stop me. She stood a few steps away, her arms wrapped around herself despite the evening's mild chill. "Tristan," she whispered, the name hanging between us.

"Caroline.” My reply mirrored hers, a soft echo in the growing darkness. Our eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, there seemed to be a silent plea for understanding, a flicker of something that might have been had circumstances been different. But words failed us, and the moment stretched taut, making it difficult to breathe. When I'd lost all hope that she would speak again, she shifted on her feet, moving closer to the door, telling me the conversation wasn’t going any further.

"Can you text me when you get home, let me know you made it home safely?" she finally said, her voice imbued with a strength that belied the tremble in her lips.

Dipping my chin, I offered her a half-smile, when all I wanted to do was kiss her. "Yeah. I can do that."

With one last look, I opened the car door, the creaking hinges sounding louder than I remembered in the silent air. The engine roared to life when I turned the key, the rumble not as satisfying as it always had been. This time, I wasn't ready to drive away, but I wasn't going to force her into anything she wasn't ready for. So, with a heavy heart, I glanced through the rearview mirror at her silhouette, where she still stood with her arms wrapped around her middle and eased my car onto the street. Within moments, the cottage and Caroline were nothing more than a speck in the mirror, then gone altogether, swallowed by the encroaching night.

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