I couldn't remember how I walked back to Sophia's room.
What I can remember is only me towelled off my soaked body and hair, with Tristan's coat draped across the chair like a silent witness to my plight.
The scent of rain clung to the fabric, faintly mixed with his cologne. It was that sharp and clean smell, very much like him.
My fingers lingered on the coat longer than they should have.
"Why had I let him hold me like that? Why do I need to lean into his steadiness, his voice, his warmth? He wasn't mine to lean on. He was Sophia's brother, for gods sake. The one who had been absent for years, the one who carried a shadows, I didn't dare touch."
Yet, when the rain had threatened to swallow me whole, it was his voice that had anchored me back to my place.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to quiet the echo of his words in my heart. "I won't let the rain take you too." I recite the word in my heart again. No, this was too much. Too intimate and too dangerous.
A knock on the door broke my thoughts. I saw Sophia's head poking through the door, her expression filled with concern.
"Are you okay, Ellie? I saw Tristan outside, and he told me you weren't feeling well."
I forced a smile. "I'm fine, Soph. It's just the storm. You know how it gets to me."
Her eyes softened. "I know. Dad's accident.." She then stopped herself, her voice sounds gentle. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought this up."
I shook my head quickly. "It's fine, Sophia. Maybe talking about it regularly could help my mental condition."
Sophia crossed the room and squeezed my hand. "You know you don't have to be strong all the time, Ellie. You've always had me. You always will."
Her warmth should have comforted me. But instead, the feeling of guilt coiled in my stomach. Because it wasn't her hand that I clung to in the storm.
It wasn't her voice I needed. It was Tristan's. It's always him.
That night, as I lay awake, I knew with startling clarity that I was in more trouble than I had ever been.