Page 24 of Unholy

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. He laughs darkly and shakes his head.

“No. You’re not, but you will be.” I watch him walk out of the reception, pulling a cigarette out as he goes. I sigh and go back to the party talking with some of the other guests. That is until we hear tires squealing and metal crunching.

In my heart, I know it’s him. In my head, I pray it isn’t.

We rush out the side door to see his car wrapped around a telephone pole.

“Tristan!” His mom yells as we rush toward the scene. People are on their phones calling for help, and all I can feel is panic. What if he didn’t make it? What if this is all my fault? No. I can’t think like that. He’s okay. He has to be.

“Ash!” My dad calls to me, and I turn to look at him as he pulls a bloody Tristan from the car. “Come help!” I’ve had some training in first aid but not trauma training. Not for this.

I rush toward them and start doing the best I can for him when someone else yells.

“Get back! The car is going to explode!” Everyone moves except me. I can’t leave him here. I won’t do that. I lift under his arms and pull him toward safety while his mom watches in shock, and my dad does nothing to help. Not that it surprises me. He doesn’t like Tristan, and his mom is too stunned to move.

“Help me!” I scream at anyone who will listen to me. Someone rushes from the crowd and helps me pull him to safety right before the car goes up in flames. I fall on my butt, his head landing in my lap. I move to shift him off me and lay him on theground so I can get back to work. I rip the bottom of my dress and press it against his wounds, trying to stop the bleeding until help arrives.

I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling right now. There’s too much happening, too much going on. He’s bleeding a lot, and I don’t have enough hands to keep the bleeding under control. I yell for more help, but my voice is scratchy, and people I don’t recognize move in to help me.

Is this my fault?

Chapter 11

Tristan

I groan as I turn my head to see my mom sitting in the chair next to me. Fuck, I’m still alive. That wasn’t exactly the plan. The plan was to make the Little Nun of mine feel something she’d never felt before. Fear of loss. Fear of losing me. Not that I belong to her to lose, but the thought of her crying for me does something to my insides. I guess that shit backfired on me, though, since I’m still here, and she isn’t.

“Mom?”

“Tristan. Oh, you’re awake,” she cries while tears stream down her face.

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. You’re hurt. You had surgery. What happened?”

“I don’t know. I just lost control of the car,” I lie to her. I’m not going to tell her I slammed into the fucking pole to get Ash’s attention. Not a chance in hell.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. You didn’t damage anything major, but they did have to do surgery to repair some things. You’re lucky, Tristan.” I nod my head as I look at her still in her wedding dress and know that I fucked up her day. That wasn’t the plan. This was all for Ash, and that was a complete fuck up.

“Go home.”

“What? No.”

“Yeah. It’s your wedding day. Go on your honeymoon. I’m fine.”

“No, Tristan.”

“I said to go!” I yell this time, shocking her, but I don’t know why. She knows this about me. I’m a bastard. A monster.

“Fine. Your therapist will be in to see you tomorrow.” I nod my head and watch her stand and leave. It doesn’t take long before Andy and Rod show up to see me.

“Glad you’re not dead.”

“I’m not.”

“What the hell, man?” Rod asks.

“This life sucks,” I laugh a little. They both shake their heads and smile, knowing me better than most people do.

---