“Tripp?”
His voice is gravely. “Yeah?”
“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. I hate when people ask me that, like they aren’t smart enough to know the answer isno.”
“Okay,” he breathes out with a lopsided smile.
“You’re safe with me.”
He leans forward to grab the blanket that had long since fallen to the floor. His other arm lifts me at the hips as he scoots down.
I have no idea how, in the next moment, we end up lying down and fitting like two human, life-sized puzzle pieces. His nose brushes my hair, and I’m happy about the lack of space between us so that I can continue keeping a close watch on his still wild heartbeat.
Since we’re both facing the TV, I can no longer read his face. His voice tells me all I need to know anyway, so I ask him another question.
“Where’s your dad now?”
“Rehab. Gets out in a week.”
Whew. This is so much for me to take in, and I can’t even imagine how it feels for him. I want to hug him again, but I stay in my spot.
“Good,” I whisper. “That’s good, right?”
He nods. “Do you want me to drive you home? I mean, if you have work to tackle early in the morning or something?”
I yawn and wiggle my shoulders to claim more of the couch cushions and blanket. Tripp obliges by inching backward with a chuckle.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
He nuzzles into my hair until his nose is right under my ear. My eyes well up, and I battle against the flood of emotions that are threatening to break free right now. Not just with this news about Tripp’s dad, but also the insurmountable weight on my chest as I realize, for the first time, just how much I’m willing to fight my way into his heart. He may not be the type of guy to invite me in, but that doesn’t bother me. He’s so much more than his jaded past and unwillingness to love.
I know the real him, and I want him to be mine.
Almost as if he’s reading my mind, he whispers low in my ear, “I’ll pretend. For five minutes.”
I smile, hearing his familiar words. They’re a game of his at this point. An avoidant loophole, for sure. But I’ll take what I can get until we have a chance to talk it over.
I turn to face him, and I’ve barely circled my arms around his neck before he presses his lips to mine, soft and slow. It’s an emotional kiss with no pressing or roaming hands. It’s perfect.
He pulls away after a minute to scoot down the couch and bury his head in my chest. My fingers hook lightly under the chain around his neck, absentmindedly lifting it from his skin and running my thumb over the metal.
After a while, I can’t ignore the urge to get even closer to him. One hand moves to cradle the back of his head. The other lets go of his chain and smooths over his upper back in slow circles.
I blink away tears until the beat of his heart slows enough for him to fall asleep. We stay like that for several hours—drifting off, him waking up from tossing and turning, me soothing him back to sleep.
I’m exhausted, but I’d do it all again. Every night, if it meant knowing he never had to go through this alone.
23
TRIPP
I openthe curtain hanging over the window and take a step back. My internet search said pale, yellow leaves need more sunlight, but this might be too much. The bottom of the plant nearest to the window glides across my dresser as I move it to the right. That should work.
I cross my arms and spread my legs to inspect the rest of them. Mesa insisted I have these plants in my room, and I thought the idea was pointless at first. But I like them more than I thought I would.
My head turns as my door blows open. Mesa comes trudging in with a huff and a heavy bag on each shoulder. When she left this morning, I tried to act casual. I didn’t want her to go, and I may have pumped my fist in the air when she texted me that she wanted to come over after work today.
“I cannot believe I’m about to ask this ridiculous question.” She laughs. “But why are the guys lifting weights under the shade tree in the front yard?”
