Vicious Sins (New York Sinners Series Book 1)

52| Lost

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Lost

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Chapter 52: Lost (Tristan's POV)

The silence between us the entire way home was worse than any torture. It felt like Amara didn't want to spend a moment longer near me, let alone speak to me or look me in the eye. It felt like I couldn't talk to her, no matter how desperately I wanted to. 

Everything unraveled so quickly that our conversation turned into a volatile argument. We were communicating, but we weren't listening to each other, we weren't understanding each other. I truly didn't know how to face her. 

She was rightfully upset. I did something knowing it would put her life in danger, and even though my intentions were right, I went about it the wrong way. I couldn't even bring myself to tell her because I knew what she would say, that it wasn't worth the risk I took. 

I turned my phone on, knowing it would probably lead Michael to us, but I had never felt so helpless before in my life. The two of us being alone could have been safe had I not turned my phone on, it was possible that Michael would never have found us if I hadn't, but the risks outweighed the safety measures we took. I had no choice but to call for help. 

I didn't want her to be any more upset than she already was, so I kept my mouth shut, waiting for the right time. We landed in New York, but that time never came. We sat in the same silence in the car as I drove her to her father's, and still, the time never came. 

I felt like a complete fucking fool for not being able to talk to her. She seemed so fragile at the moment. One word from me, and I thought she would break, and there was nothing in this world I hated more than seeing her cry. 

"You should go home," Amara finally said as I opened the trunk and brought out her suitcase. 

"Let me take you upstairs," I suggested.

"I can go on my own." 

"I know, but I don't want you to," I replied, keeping a firm grip on her bag. 

She held my gaze, her jaw ticking. 

Exhaling softly, I closed the trunk and faced her completely. "Do you want me to leave, Amara?" 

A small sigh of defeat escaped her. "Tristan, I don't know how to talk to you when you're like this. You won't tell me why you did it, you're not listening to me—" 

"I am listening to you. I understand you, your concerns are valid. I get why you're mad at me." 

"I'm not mad at you," she replied softly. "But I need you to help me understand you. How can I not be bothered by what you've done?" 

"If it bothers you, then it bothers you. I won't tell you how you should or shouldn't feel." 

She paused, a light scoff escaping her. "You don't think we should talk about it? You don't think we should fix this?" 

"I think we should take some time apart." 

After a beat, she shrugged lightly. "Fine."