Page 76 of The Game

“Besides,” he rumbles. “I think you’ll be seeing more of me than you realize. I have some unfinished business to attend to with your devils.”

CHAPTER 37

Jameson

As soon as I turn off the highway and onto the winding dirt road, I have to wonder if the directions Tristan gave me are somehow wrong. The only thing preventing me from feeling like this is a trap is the fact that he’s been texting me sporadically on my drive out here, keeping me posted on Alice.

When he’d presented this idea to me, I’d caved easily; I just want her back, and if this gives her closure, so be it. The fact that Tristan was finally calm enough to offer that to her calms my heart as well. He’s making progress, however slowly. As much as I want to deny the fact she clearly loves another, I can’t. A soft smile paints my lips despite my sorrow. If anyone has a heart big enough to love three men, it’s definitely Alice, and I can’t find fault in that. She’s lost so much throughout her short life that when she falls, she’s all in. We should know that better than anyone, yet we’ve lost sight of it in our grief and anger.

Tristan’s matte gray BMW is parked at the end of the road in front of a set of old wrought iron gates intertwined with dead vines. Beyond the stone wall is the weeping building I’d looked up online before making the drive out here. Something sinister haunts this place, but I lean into it, trying to see it from Alice’s eyes. She’s changed so much that I find myself looking for clues as to who she is now. If this is one of them, so be it.

I will love her until the end of time, and even beyond that, and I’ve done a shitty fucking job of showing that to her.

Rolling to a stop, I shift into park and glance over at Tristan. His arms are crossed, dark glasses on his frowning face. He’s been here a few hours, giving them the space they need to find whatever closure they seek. My mind cannot help but to wander to what exactly they are doing, but I shake the thoughts away; Alice is still too broken to want intimacy. I seem to know that better than Tristan, but then another part of me wonders if I am assuming too much.

With a sigh, I exit, slamming my car door and subsequently scattering a small flock of birds hiding in the rotting ferns. The flapping of their wings and their soft cries are the only other noise out here. My eyes sweep around the woods, searching for any threats, but I know the only danger here resides in that building. Upon my own research of Theodore Poe, part of me knows I’ve found a kindred spirit, a man as evil as they come, but a man who is able to control those impulses as I do. It oddly comforts me, knowing Alice is safe in there, was as safe as she could be while she was with him.

Crunching along dead leaves and stray gravel from when this place was up and running, I make my way around to the passenger side of Tristan’s car and sink into the seat, slamming the door and leaning back, basking in the warmth brought on by the rare sunshine. Maybe I should take it as a good sign.

“So?” I press, too apprehensive and jittery, my energy needing an outlet. I wonder if this is how Tristan feels everyday without his meds, and have to admit it fucking sucks. He shrugs, lips twisted in a sneer.

“I’m about ready to go in and slit his throat, so there’s that.”

I roll my eyes.

“That would kill her, and you know it.”

“I just don’t fucking understand,” he growls, reaching up to grip at his hair in frustration. Sighing, I level him with a stare my father used to give us when we were boys and trying to cope with the death of our mother.

“It’s not for us to understand,da? This is a step in the right direction. We just have to let her heal.”

He shakes his head before rubbing at his jaw, propping his elbow on his window sill.

“I hate myself,” he whispers, shocking me. Even to me, Tristan never shares his true feelings. Our bond being as close as it is, his admission pains me.

“Why?” I ask, brows furrowing. He shrugs again, eyes locked on the double doors that lead inside the abandoned building.

“Because when she needed me most, I was so fucking blind by my own rage that I pushed her away. I was focused on something so…fucking insignificant. And now I put myself in her shoes, and I can’t imagine what she’s been battling all alone.”

Although we suffered greatly, he’s right; we will never understand what Alice went through, what she is still going through.

“Maybe we all need therapy,” I mutter. He’s quick to snort, which makes me laugh, and the mood is suddenly lightened.

“Why don’t you just boss us around like you always fucking used to?” he says, dragging his palms down his face now. For whatever reason, this surprises me. I know I was always the one Tristan silently looked to for direction, even if he chose his own way in the end. I never realized how much he actually relied on that, and maybe it’s the same for Alice.

“Maybe I ought to more,” I say, scratching at my jaw. His slate eyes cut to me, his glasses abandoned, a frown on his lips.

“As annoying as it was, I think she needed it, someone to tell her what was best for her when she was too overwhelmed to decide.”

A coy smirk plays at my lips.

“Are you saying you need the same?”

“Fuck off,” he hisses, pushing his glasses back on and glaring out the windshield. My answering chuckle feels strange emitting from my chest, but it shakes some of the settled dust loose, and I feel lighter. We fought hard to get back to ourbabochka. We can’t give up now.

“So he wants us both here?” I question hesitantly, unwilling to set him off. He nods. “For what?” I press.

His shrug is petulant, and I have to bite back my smile. His jealousy is so potent it’s comical at this point.

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