Page 60 of Shadows of Recovery

“I understand.” Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears she quickly blinked away. “I just... I hate seeing her like this. She’s always been so vibrant, so full of life.”

“She still is,” Tristan assured her. “It’s just going to take a while for that light to shine as brightly as it used to.”

Charlotte studied him for a moment, then leaned forward. “Tristan, can I ask you something personal?”

“Of course.” He was a bit taken aback by her directness.

“I know you love Sophie.” Charlotte’s expression softened. “What do you see happening now? Between you and Sophie?”

Tristan hesitated, then spoke from the heart. “I see a future where Sophie heals, where she regains her strength and her sense of self. And I want to be there for her every step of the way. Not just as a doctor, but as someone who cares deeply for her.”

Charlotte reached out, placing her hand on his. “I appreciate your honesty, Tristan. Sophie needs people around her who truly care.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll be there for her, no matter what.” He hugged her. “We’ll bring her back, Charlotte. We’ll bring her back.”

Twenty-Three

Tristan sat by her side, his presence calming her. “Sophie, sweetheart,” he took her delicate hand in his, “you have gotten so much better. How would you like to get out of the hospital?”

“Really?” Her eyes glimmered with excitement.

“I’ve spoken with Dr. Skylar and your family. We’d like to move you to the Blackwell Institute. They have the best facilities to help you recover fully.”

Sophie looked at him with a hint of apprehension, rocking slightly. “That’s your institute. Will James be there? Will you be there with me?” Her brows furrowed.

He smiled. “Every step of the way,” he promised, squeezing her hand lightly. “You won’t be alone.”

Sophie sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “What will happen there?” Her foot bounced.

Tristan took a deep breath. “We specialize in the kind of recovery you need,” he explained. “We have state-of-the-art equipment, experienced staff, and personalized care plans. We’ll start with a comprehensive assessment to understand exactly what you need.”

She could feel his warmth, his presence a solid comfort. Her thoughts were elsewhere, drifting in and out of the past. She looked at Tristan out of the corner of her eye. His profile, strong and familiar, stirred something deep within her—an emotion that was hard to pin down. Affection, definitely, but also something more complicated. There was a tenderness when she looked at him, a deep appreciation for the way he had been there for her, for the way he cared. But there was also a flicker of fear, a remnant of something she couldn’t quite shake.

Her mind wandered back to the first time she met him, the morning after he saved her from a predator, Damon Whitlock. She shuddered. And his hand was around hers.

She remembered the way Tristan’s smile had been a little shy, the way his eyes studied her as if he were trying to see past the surface. She remembered how he made her laugh, how he listened to her without judgment. Those memories were clear, bright snapshots of a time when things seemed simpler, easier. But as she tried to recall more, her thoughts became murky, like trying to see through a fog. There were gaps, moments that felt just out of reach.

She closed her eyes, and images flashed behind her eyelids. A different kind of warmth, a searing heat, the sound of a siren in the distance, the feeling of panic gripping her chest. Tristan’s voice, calm and steady, cutting through the chaos: “Sophie, stay with me.”

The flashbacks came in waves—unpredictable, disjointed. Sometimes it was the sound of his voice that triggered them; other times, it was the scent of his cologne, or the way he touched her arm. But no matter what brought them on, they always left her feeling off-balance, unsure of what was real and what was just her mind playing tricks on her.

Sophie opened her eyes, taking in a deep breath, trying to ground herself in the present. Tristan was still there, still solid and real. She felt his hand squeeze hers, but it sent a jolt through her. Her heart sped up, a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Did he know? Could he sense the turmoil inside her? She wanted to reach out, to tell him everything—to confess that she was struggling, that she couldn’t always separate the past from the present. But the words caught in her throat. How could she explain that sometimes she felt like she was drowning in memories, that no matter how hard she tried to stay afloat, the undertow kept dragging her back?

And yet, despite it all, she knew she needed him. Tristan was her lifeline, the one person who could pull her back when the darkness threatened to swallow her whole. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around her, holding her close.

For a moment, everything else faded away—the memories, the flashbacks, the fear. All that mattered was that she was here, with him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Sophie closed her eyes again, this time letting herself relax into the warmth of his embrace, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be enough to keep the darkness at bay.

* * *

The ambulance rideto the Institute was uneventful, with Tristan’s thumb gently tracing soothing circles on her skin. He talked to her softly, distracting her from the anxiety of the journey.

The ambulance hummed steadily as it navigated the city streets. Inside, Sophie lay on the stretcher, her eyes occasionally drifting shut, lulled by the ride, but her rapid heartrate showed her fear.

“Sophie, can you hear me?” Tristan’s voice was a blend of anxiety and tenderness.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she nodded weakly. “Yes, I can hear you.”.

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