Page 101 of Shattered By Grace

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile, more like the ghost of something bitter. His gaze held hers, steady, unshaken. “You don’t have to need me. I’m still here.”

She hated the way her heart stuttered, the way something inside her cracked just a little. He was making it impossible to hold onto the anger, to the walls she had spent years reinforcing.

Tristan took a slow step back, exhaling like he had just made some kind of decision. He reached for the lock on her door, testing it, “Get some sleep, Victoria.”

And then, just like that, he walked out, leaving her standing in the middle of the room with her heart pounding and the weight of his presence still lingering in the air.

She barely registered the missed call, too focused on the door, on the space he had just filled, on the way it suddenly felt too empty.

Then her phone lit up again.

Taylor.

Victoria hesitated before answering, but the moment she did, Taylor’s voice came through, sharp and demanding.

"Umm, Victoria… what is going on?"

She swallowed. "Nothi—Nothing." Her voice wavered, emotions twisting inside her, but she forced herself to focus.

"Why haven’t you been to work? Conner’s said you had an accident, but you’re safe?"

Victoria exhaled, sinking onto the couch, staring into nothing as the memories rushed in. "It’s… kind of a long story. Short version? I gave the notebook to Adams, the detective. After that, I felt off. My apartment felt too small, so I went to the gym." Her fingers curled against her throat as the words tumbled out. "I don’t know. It all happened so fast. Cassian sent three or four guys to send a message. One of them had me by the throat, choking me."

There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line, but Victoria kept going. "Then Tristan swoops in, saves the day. But I had to tell him everything, and… that didn’t go over great. We had a huge fight. I lost my phone at the gym, so I couldn’t call or text."

Taylor was so silent on the other end that Victoria glanced at her phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

"Tay? You still there?" Her voice was quieter now, uncertainty creeping in.

"Yeah… I’m here." Taylor’s voice finally came through, slow and careful. "I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you were attacked, lost your phone, got into a fight with Tristan, and somehow, you’re just now telling me?"

Victoria groaned, rubbing her temples. "I wasn’t exactly in a place to call and chat about it, Tay."

"That’s not the point! You disappeared! I was worried sick. And Conner…do you have any idea how freaked out she was?"

Guilt curled in Victoria’s stomach. "I didn’t mean to worry you guys," she admitted.

"Yeah, well, you did.” She took a small breath, “Did Tristan really call Conner?"

Anger filled her veins. "God, yes. How freaking embarrassing?"

Taylor started laughing on the other end. "Victoria, it’s kinda sweet."

"Sweet?! Sweet?" Victoria scoffed, standing up and starting to pace around the living room. "This man told me that 'Whitney' and him go way back. That she dated a friend." She shook her head, disbelief still ringing in her voice. "He told me not to worry about it because technically he’s my bosses’ bosses’ boss, since his family owns the hospital."

Taylor’s voice shot through the phone. "What?"

"Girl, I think you just busted my eardrum." Victoria laughed at Taylor’s reaction, which was about the same as hers. "Yeah, well… I, uh… I stayed at his place last night." She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair.

Silence. A long, drawn-out silence.

“YOU WHAT?”

Victoria winced, pulling the phone away from her ear. “Not like that! After the attack, I had a panic attack, and he just…he stayed with me. Took me into the shower to calm me down, rubbed my arms… just held me until I could breathe again.” The memory hit her like a wave, goosebumps rising along her arms. “And I just…after everything, I couldn’t go back to my apartment. He refused to take me anywhere else but his place, so… yeah. But it wasn’t like that at all.”

"You slept in Tristan Locke’s bed. The Tristan Locke. The broody, emotionally unavailable fighter who looks like sin and fights like a demon?"

Victoria groaned. "Yes, but also, Tay…he sings, he cooks, and I kid you not, we slow-danced around his kitchen when the power went out. Like, is he even real?"

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