Tripp

  Resisting the urge to feel her forehead for a temperature and ask her if she’s all right, I look at her skeptically.

  “Sure, I’ll get the car seat after school.”

  “Perfect,” she says. Though she tries a small smile, I can see the weight of her worry in her eyes. Leaning forward, I press my lips to hers in a comforting gesture. It’s supposed to be a quick kiss, one meant to reassure her that I’m here to lean on, but when I go to pull back, she’s coming with me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and taking the kiss to another level until I’ve unknowingly turned her and pressed her back against her locker.

  I force her to her toes so our bodies line up, and then I tangle one hand in her hair so I can angle her head and take the kiss deeper. When she meets my force with pressure of her own, I can feel the desperation. Gentling my grip, and the kiss, I pull away and tilt her face up to mine.

  “Rachel, whatever it is, we’ll fix it together, okay?”

  She nods and I kiss her again. When we head off to class in opposite directions, I glance over my shoulder and see her posture is noticeably straighter. My own shoulders ease, and I watch her a second longer, grateful that even just that small bit of contact showed her we’re carrying her burden together.

  ~

  I meet Tanner and Griff for a small workout after school before I go and get Gracie. Since it’s Griff’s turn to pick the workout, we don’t meet at the gym, but at the rec field on campus. I groan when I notice that he’s got his Cross-Fit crap out, mentally preparing myself for an hour-plus of torture.

  “Half of my motivation for working out comes from the opposite sex. I can’t get the visual I need if I’m out here surrounded by other sweaty dudes. Or half dead from running,” Tanner grumbles as we jog our warm-up around the track.

  “Just think of all the stamina you’ll have when you’re participating in activities outside of the gym,” Griff answers back and Tanner seems to find this acceptable.

  “Ready?” Griff asks when we finish our laps and a few early stretches.

  “We have to be. I’m grabbing Gracie in an hour.”

  Both of my brothers raise their brows. I raise mine right back, challenging them to tell me it’s not my responsibility, or—worse—that I’m too young for this.

  Griff speaks first. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “If you think it means that Rachel and I are together and I’m going to be a permanent part of her life, which means being a permanent part of Gracie’s life, too, then yeah, it does.”

  After a second, he nods, accepting that I’ve made my choice. When my eyes turn to Tanner, I brace because I can see he’s thinking.

  “She what you want, little brother?” he finally asks.

  “You know she is.”

  “What about the little one. You ready for all of that?”

  Even though there’s a surge of anger that I have to work hard to tamp down so I don’t give in and grab him by the shirtfront to tell him—again—that, yeah, I am ready. I also know Tanner asks the hard questions, because unlike Griff who instinctively understands things—cars, people, situations—Tanner’s always the one who needs to take it apart to see how it works. And right now, he’s asking because when I tell him I’m ready, he’ll know for certain. And he won’t worry.

  So instead of putting my fist in his face for caring, I nod. “Yeah, I am. I love them both, Tanner.”

  I look him in the eyes when I say it, and it takes him less than ten seconds to accept my answer. “Then let’s get our workout done so you can go get your girl.”

  I release my breath and smile, knocking my fist to the one he’s holding out. When we turn to Griff, he’s got his brows raised. “Now that we’ve had that moment, let’s start with the pulleys.”

  Tanner and I groan simultaneously, but we go because as hard as it will be, it’s easier when we’re all together.

  34

  Present

  After my workout, I stop by my house to take a quick shower and let my mom know I’ll be eating dinner with Rachel and Gracie.

  “At least you’re telling me instead of slipping out after dinner,” she says. I pause long enough to stare at her. “Please, Jackson, you think your older brothers didn’t slip out the side door to go meet a girl some nights? I know you’ve been going to see Rachel after Gracie falls asleep, so I’ll tell you the same thing I told the two before you—be safe, in every way you need to be.”

  Words cannot describe how uncomfortable this conversation has made me. I nod and flee. I’m still shaking my head over it as I pull my truck into G’s driveway and head up the walk. When G answers, her eyes light on me, and her face breaks into a smile.

  “So, I finally see it with my own eyes. She’s let you in.”

  I shove my hands in my pockets—whether or not she knows it, G’s words are far too close to having a connotation that I absolutely cannot fathom thinking of right now. I know she sees my discomfort when an evil smile crosses her face. “Come in then, handsome, and hug me before you take our girl home.”

  I brace myself for the hug, but for the first time in years, this one isn’t inappropriate or uncomfortable. It’s supportive, like a hug from my own grandmother, and when G leans back, she cups my face in her hands. “I’ve been waiting for you two to get together. Now that you are, do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “I’m counting on it. Don’t let her stand alone anymore. She’s been determined to be alone her whole life—thinking that every man is like my son, and so every woman needs to be as strong an independent as her mother—but it’s not true. She can be independent and still have someone stand with her. Can you stand with her, Tripp?”

  “I already am,” I tell G, and put my arm around her shoulders.

  “Good, because something was wrong this morning. I could tell the minute she dropped Gracie off. She said she would be okay, but I’m trusting you to make sure she is.”

  “I promise,” I tell her. She squeezes my waist before ushering me the rest of the way through the door and down the hallway. Gracie is lying on the floor with Mrs. Beary watching Sesame Street. She tilts her head back to look at me, and I can’t name the emotion that floods through me when she smiles and abandons her post to walk over and wrap her arms around me.

  I lift her and she lays her head on my shoulder. I can feel her breath on my neck.

  “She just woke up, so she’s a little snuggly.”

  I nod, because I’m afraid if I talk I might embarrass myself. I love Rachel—so much it physically hurts sometimes. Holding Gracie, I recognize that same intensity; it scares me enough I have to take a deep breath. For the past two years, I’ve worried every day about Rachel, hating the fact that I failed her, that I let her get hurt more than once, that I wasn’t able to stop any of the things that have happened. Now, walking out to the car with Gracie in my arms, I understand the stakes are raised. I don’t just love one girl, I love two, and both are connected to a situation I have no control over.

  ~

  Gracie’s snuggle period doesn’t last long, and by the time Rachel gets home, we’ve already played with every toy in her room—some of them twice. We are on the floor in the living room playing with oversized Legos when Rachel walks in. The kiss she gives me is a little fierce and a lot desperate. Though I’m grateful, in the back of my mind are her words from this morning and G’s from this afternoon. Something is really wrong.

  We don’t talk about it while Gracie’s awake. However much I want to know so I can start defending, I respect Rachel’s desire to keep all negativity away from Gracie. It’s hard not to be bitter about the way things went down for her, and the way Marcus continues to pop up because he fucking can, but when we’re sitting on the floor in the bathroom while Gracie splashes in the tub, I also can’t really be angry.

  “Why don’t I put her to bed for you,” I say after she’s lotioned and snuggled in her polar-bear jammies.

  Rachel stares at me as if I’ve sp
oken in a language she’s unfamiliar with. I smile and reach out to tuck a small flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “Seriously, you haven’t even been home for an hour. Go shower, take some time. I’ll do bedtime.”

  It takes her a minute, but then she nods and I feel like I’ve been given the keys to the kingdom.

  “Sure. Lovey’s in her crib, and she likes Boynton at bedtime. Moo Baa La and Barnyard Dance, sometimes Snuggle Puppy.”

  I nod, leaning in to kiss her, easing back the emotion by swatting her rear as she pulls away. “Go shower. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

  She turns and hugs Gracie, pressing kisses to her eyes, nose, and lips before squeezing her tightly once more. When she walks out, Gracie holds out her arms, ready to show me her routine. With her on my lap, we rock and read, singing the animal sounds together and going through the tuck-in routine where she has me kiss her, Mrs. Beary, blankey, Lovey, and an entire crew of other stuffed animals before I finally walk out.

  Rachel’s still in the shower when I get to her room. I prop myself against her headboard and close my eyes, wondering how the hell she does this every day of her life. I get it—there’s something about knowing that the little girl in the room across the hall is yours, that her needs have to be met by you. It scares you at the same time that it makes you want to give her everything and anything that she wants. But even with the joy, it’s exhausting. Rachel practices every day after school, she works out on the weekends when she’s not at tournaments, works at the auto shop a few Saturdays a month. She’s a 3.5 GPA student, and manages to spend time with her mom and sister, with Katie, and me—all while playing with her kid every afternoon and tucking her in every night.

  I’m still reeling from the sheer volume of work she does when I hear her pad into the room. I open my eyes and look at her, skin fresh and dewy from the shower, hair wet and tumbled in long, dark ropes over her shoulders, hands clutched around the towel as she offers me a small smile.

  “Hey.”

  I reach out and snag her hand, pulling her to the bed and rolling her beneath me. “Hey yourself.”

  “Gracie asleep?”

  I nod my head yes and ask her how her shower was as I study her. Up close like this, I can see everything. My body gets tense and hard. I barely hear her answer as I think of just how badly I want to touch her, to move with her.

  As if she senses my need, she reaches her hand up and lightly traces her fingers across my brow, my cheek, my jawline, and down to my lips. “Thanks for being here,” she says and her voice is quiet, reverent, needy.

  “Always.” My lips take hers to seal the words between us. She encourages me by abandoning her towel and gripping the back of my T-shirt. Desperate, nearing the brink with just that small move, I push onto my knees long enough to rip my own T-shirt over my head and push her towel to the side.

  Beautiful. I don’t know if I say it, but it’s all I can think as she lifts her knees higher and brings me closer, our bodies lining up perfectly, our mouths tangling and our skin sliding.

  When she asks me to touch her, her voice breathy and desperate, I’m overwhelmed. My lips travel from her lips to her neck, down to the beautiful collarbone and even farther until I’m at her breasts. I taste one and then the other before moving on to the sensitive skin of her ribcage and abs.

  She responds to me every time, her breath hitching, her hips moving, her back arching as her fingers press and grab at my skin in encouragement. The taste of her is intoxicating, and when I finally shed my clothing and put on a condom, we’re both desperate.

  My hips flex as I push inside; though my body and hers beg me to move, to bring us both to that edge we desire—I hold still, needing one more thing.

  “I love you.” My weight is rested on my forearms on either side of her head, my eyes locked on hers. I ignore the tingling at the base of my spine and say the words again, desperate for her to know that nothing has ever been more real than what I feel for her. “Rachel, I love you. Always.”

  When she says the words back to me, her hands reaching up to cup my face and bring our lips together, I begin to move, bracing my weight with one arm and gripping her hip with the other, repeating the words against her lips over and over as we move together.

  The climax shatters us both; collapses us together. I’m on my side holding her, and her head is nestled in the nook of my shoulder and collarbone. Her arms are solidly around me, our hearts knocking against our ribs in a game of competitive ping-pong. Her hair is damp, almonds and coconuts pereating my every breath, and her skin is a smooth canvas for my fingers to trace patterns on while I hold her.

  There are times when we love that we’re silly; others when we’re desperate. Tonight was more. It was necessary, raw, as emotional as it was physical.

  “Marcus’s mom has been finding me and asking me about Gracie. She wants to be a part of her life.”

  Son of a bitch.

  The high from being with her depletes from my body like water from a sieve. I’m no longer loose and reverent, no longer thinking of how she smells or feels. Anger is boiling beneath my surface, a geyser ready to spew, and my muscles have contracted until they’re flexed around her, ready to protect.

  “It started in January, right after that night you brought Gracie to me at practice? We ran into Marcus’s sister in the locker room. She’s a sophomore. Understandably, we’ve avoided each other because she made it clear she didn’t believe the rumors and I didn’t want to dissuade her. One look at Gracie was all it took.”

  G had been in the parking lot that night, waiting for Rachel because G had an appointment she needed to get to and didn’t want to take Gracie. I offered to take her, bring her to the gym and Rachel so G could leave. Something innocent, an attempt to help, and now it’s the reason Rachel’s been so scared; the reason Marcus has begun popping up and following her places again.

  Jesus, I want to hit someone right now.

  My response is primitive; her scent is still on me and she’s still in my arms. I can’t even fucking think of someone attempting to manipulate her without going postal. Unfortunately, I can’t freak out, yell, scream, rage; Rachel’s story is not done yet.

  “I told Mrs. Kash no, flat out. I explained Marcus didn’t want anything to do with the baby, and I was happy with that. But I misstepped, I know I did. She got this look.” Rachel pauses and I tense even more. “It was one that told me in admitting he was Gracie’s sperm donor, I had given her the golden ticket. Last night, she proved my theory when she laid an envelope of incriminating photos on my doorstep, encouraging me to think of what might happen to Gracie if someone else saw them.”

  Her body is tense now, too. I rub her shoulders, pet my hands through her hair, and press my lips to her temple without saying anything. She needs support, not anger. I’m going to give it to her, be here like she needs me to, and make sure she understands she has done nothing wrong.

  “The photos… they’re bad. Not all of them. It’s obvious she’s had me followed for a while; they date back to pretty much the day after I saw Gabriella, and all of them are only part of the scene. But the most recent ones… they’re of me that night of Katie’s party—when I left with Dean and ended up at home with you.”

  Rage is too calm a word to express what’s zinging through me right now. I can’t let it out, whatever it is, but I can do one thing. I lift Rachel’s chin until she leans back enough to look at me.

  “I got you,” I say and wait for her to really hear it. “I’m here, Rachel—you aren’t alone anymore.”

  Never alone. That’s what I have to make her see. She’s not alone emotionally, and she sure as fuck won’t be alone physically until this is figured out. I don’t say that, yet, because I’m not ready to fight; the look she’s giving me tells me she isn’t thinking of fighting, either.

  “I want you,” she says and I let her roll me. “I need you.” This time it’s softer, but potent.

  “You have me.” And she does. Body. Mind. H
eart. They’re hers, and she’s mine.

  35

  Present

  “I need you to head to campus instead of school.”

  I stare at Rachel as she slams the door of my truck, my eyes sweeping over her outfit of sweats and a hoodie, her hair piled on top of her head. It should be off putting—unsexy in the very least, since she’s wearing basically the same thing I am—and yet, somehow, I still want to lean over and take a bite out of her. Maybe it’s because I can still remember the way she looked last night, damp from her shower, smooth skin pink with pleasure… when she repeats her odd request, I cut my memory short and look at her face.

  “What?”

  She gives me a wry smile, like she knows what I was remembering. “I need to skip training this morning and pay a visit to Katie’s ex-boyfriend, Doug.”

  This is news. “When did he become an ex?”

  “Sometime yesterday, apparently. She asked him to move in with her after she graduated, and he declined. Which, don’t get me wrong, relieves me. I don’t care how good of a person he is, he’s also an idiot who is in no way cut out to take care of Katie.”

  “So, why are we going to his house?”

  She rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious. Girls.

  “Because even if I’m glad that he doesn’t want to live with her, he broke her heart…and worse, he made her feel alone—like there’s something wrong with her. She has a deadbeat dad and an immature mom who have already left her—she didn’t need some kid who was all about promises earlier in the year to do the same thing now that she’s finally slept with him.”

  “Got it.” Not really.

  “And since you’re hell bent on driving me everywhere until someone can prove Marcus isn’t a threat—which we both know could be never—you’re going to have to come with me. Which is probably best. Doug’s afraid of me, but when he sees us together? Christ, he might just crap his pants.”

  Despite the black cloud hanging over my head after my conversation with her last night, I laugh. I’ve always enjoyed her sadistic streak, and now that I’m not the one on the receiving end of it, I can go back to enjoying the way she isn’t afraid to kick ass.