Don’t I? It stings hearing him say otherwise. I rely on the fact that it could be the alcohol talking to keep me from letting it go to my head too much.
“Maybe. I wish you didn’t.”
Every inch of my skin hurts. The water turns lukewarm, effectively putting a timer on our embrace. This shower is turning into a capsule of previously unsaid truths, apparently. I see him, but he doesn’t want me to. In such a vulnerable state, I think he’d prefer those parts of him that only I know to be concealed again.
“Are you saying that so you can go back into hiding now? Is that it?”
The confusion and hurt in my chest don’t filter into my tone of voice, thankfully. I try to remain as calm as possible, considering how dejected he seems.
“I guess so.”
He sighs, and I realize we’ve officially backtracked when his head drops again. This couldn’t have just been easy for us, could it? I loosen my arms enough to sneak around to his front. He’s still looking down when I press my body to his and look up into his eyes.
“You don’t get to do that anymore,” I state.
“Why?”
“Because now that I’m here, I won’t let you. Iwon’t. I’d never stand by while you’re hurting, and I won’t stand by while you try to pull away, either.”
My limbs tighten around him in a vice, but he doesn’t soften into them. The water is entirely cold now. Rapid streams race down my face, but I stare through them, unwilling to break our eye contact.
His forehead drops to mine after ten painfully cold seconds of staring, only to lean away again a moment later. The shockof the frigid waterfall above me matches the burst in my chest when I notice his tight jaw and the pain in his eyes.
Tripp pulls away, sniffs, and reaches around me to shut off the water. I’m shivering, and it’s not just from the loss of hot water. My teeth chatter when he locks eyes with me again.
“Go home,” he mumbles.
I hug my arms around my middle while he steps out and quickly dries off. He wraps the towel around his waist, and I think he might walk away. But with a sigh, he pulls me out to stand on the memory foam bath mat and grabs a folded gray towel from the cabinet.
He doesn’t rub me down with it until I’m no longer wet. Instead, he simply wraps it around my shoulders like a blanket. Whatever storm was brewing inside of him during that shower seems fully developed now. I sense the static-charged evidence of it without even touching him. Like the one outside, it’s reached land and might destroy everything in its path.
Despite his suggestion for me to leave, I pad across the hall in his wake. My hair is still drenched, and several beads of cold water trickle down my forehead and neck. If I don’t have a debilitating cold tomorrow, it’ll be a miracle. Tripp slips on a pair of briefs and, before fully sinking into bed, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye.
On my way to the bunkhouse, I’d imagined him emotionally spilling every detail while we held each other close through the night. I’d hoped I could comfort him, then take everything he told me and turn it into a hope-filled silver lining like he needs.
That’s what we do.
I don’t know whatthisis—the weird distance between us, his grunts, the avoidance.
“If you’d just talk to me—” I try.
My words are cut off by him removing the towel from around me and pulling one of his old, faded sweatshirts over my head.I’m sure it’s been washed a thousand times before, but it still smells like him.
If this were any other night, I’d make a joke about needing to comb and dry my hair before bed so that it’s not tangled and frizzy tomorrow. Tripp would ruffle the dark red locks on top of my head. He’d laugh. He’d smile at me and say he doesn’t care because he likes it like that.
“I’m stupid,” he finally says. “There’s not much else to say.”
For the first time tonight, I’m irritated, but I hold back the emotion. “I disagree.”
He isn’t speaking to me with a rude or annoyed tone, despite the way he rips back the covers and continuously rubs the side of his head. I notice the little bandages on his forehead and brow.
I cross my arms while he lies down and turns away.
Maybe I’m not providing him with the opportunity to speak freely. I have a habit of clocking every one of his negative outlooks, but I need tolethim feel them now. Name them out loud instead of shoving them deeper.
“What if I just listen and try not to say anything while you tell me what happened?”
His shoulders rise and fall with several deep breaths before responding. “You’d regret hearing anything I have to say right now.”
