Tripp

by Kristen Kehoe

  “I’m sorry this happened to her. Sorry I couldn’t protect her again…that I let this happen.”

  She nods and looks away, her eyes filling with tears, making me feel even more like shit. “I’m pregnant. Did Rachel tell you that?”

  I nod, shoving my hands back in my pockets because I have no fucking clue what to do with them except not to use them to pat her head.

  “Ten weeks,” she murmurs. “Do you know what I was thinking when all of this started with Marcus and his mom, and then when I heard what happened today?” She looks up at me now. I shake my head, because as I do with her sister at times, it appears I’ve gone mute. “That she’s lucky to have you. My baby’s lucky to have you. He, or she, can meet their auntie one day soon. My mom and I are lucky to have you…so we didn’t go to the school to hear news that was a lot worse than she got beat up.”

  I’m speechless, clueless how to respond. All I can focus on, still, is that Rachel’s here because I couldn’t be where she needed me to be. Doesn’t anyone else see that?

  Stacy must know where my thoughts go, because she puts her hand on my arm now and forces me to look at her. “I can’t imagine doing what she has—raising a baby, making the choice to be a mom when anyone she knows would have been on her side if she had made a different one. And now this. But she keeps standing, and I know that’s because of you, Tripp.”

  Tears fall, but she doesn’t swipe at them. She keeps her eyes on me. “I know that. So don’t ever think I regret that she chose you. I don’t, not for a second. You kicked the door down,” she says and the tears really fall. I put my arm gently around her shoulders and let her lean on me for a second.

  “Do you know why I got you that day last year? Why I didn’t ask my own husband to help me get her out of bed?”

  I shake my head and realize what I’m doing. “No,” croaks out of my throat.

  “Because I knew you would do whatever you had to in order to save her. Just like today. You kicked the door down, Tripp,” she says again, and I feel my throat close. “Remember that if you ever start to feel guilty, okay?”

  Those words… the pain that’s been a constant and heavy weight for the past few hours eases a fraction, but that fraction is all I need to breathe clearly. With that breath I know, I know what she’s saying is right. Like Rachel, though, the guilt might take a little longer to subside. I nod and we start walking. “Okay.”

  40

  Present

  “I swear to god, if one more person asks me how I am—I will punch them in the face.”

  “As long as you do it from bed, I don’t care,” Stacy quips.

  “I’m not a child.”

  “The irony in that statement right now is almost too much.”

  I pause outside of Rachel’s bedroom door, wincing as I hear her growl at her sister. It’s been a week since Marcus attacked her. Though the doctor assured everyone that most of the damage was surface—the bruising on her neck and back and the small concussion—her mom and sister have put her on lockdown. No volleyball, no school, no outings.

  As a result, I’ve only seen her for an hour or so each day since she left the hospital. A part of me was relieved for the break. The bruises on her neck or back, and the small tremors that would seize her every now and then when she remembered what happened, made me want to go into a rage—which isn’t what she needed. Instead, I let her mom and sister baby her and I spent the majority of my time in the gym with my brothers, beating the crap out of myself.

  “You paid your penance yet, Jackson?” Tanner asked me last night.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Griff rolled his eyes and swiped the sweat off his face after almost an hour of lifting, jumping, and running. “You’ve been here all week punishing your body. You’ve seen Rachel only a few times, and definitely not long enough to show her in a proper way just how glad you are she’s alive.”

  My teeth clenched, and I threw my own sweat-drenched towel in the laundry basket. “She was attacked by the guy who fathered her child. He tried to kill her. I think she deserves a little break after that.”

  Tanner rolled his eyes and my short temper threatened to break and lash out at him. “From you? Does she need a break from you, Jackson? Because you aren’t responsible for what happened.”

  “I fucking know that,” I said, getting in his face.

  “Do you?” Tanner asked, not backing down. “Because the way you’re abusing your body says differently, little brother. Like maybe you’re punishing yourself for things you can’t control.”

  That snapped my last straw. I shoved him and threw the bag I’d just picked up, listening with minimal satisfaction as it thudded against the metal lockers. “I know it’s not my fault. I know I couldn’t have predicted Marcus would find an unlocked side door and get in the school. I know all of that. But it doesn’t fucking mean I can just forget it happened. What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten her text? What would have happened if he’d been there a few minutes earlier? Or if I had gotten there a few minutes later?” I scraped my hands over my head and wished for something else to throw.

  “Jackson.” Griff laid his hand on my arm. “You can’t go there. You can’t,” he spoke over me when I went to argue. “You weren’t there a second later. She got away. She survived. Now you gotta survive, too. You gotta find a way to put it behind you and be with your girl.”

  “Don’t let that abusive prick win,” Tanner said, and for the first time in days, I laughed.

  I know they’re right. I don’t blame myself for Marcus and what he did, but I can’t seem to put it aside, either. The fear of what could have been is paralyzing me. It’s time it stopped. Being here is my first step to moving on, though I wish I wasn’t taking my own life in my hands as I attempt to insert myself into a feud between the sisters.

  “Call me a child one more time,” Rachel hisses. I take it as my cue to step in.

  “There she is, looking pretty as a picture with that scowl on her face.” Cue the death glare. I smirk back, looking at her like I haven’t really let myself do in the last few days. Her hair is pulled back, those ever-resistant pieces slipping from the band to float around her face, and she’s wearing nothing but gray sweats and a white tank top. It’s not sexy, but everything in my body is tight and hard just looking at her. Jesus, I’ve missed her.

  “If you’re here to tell me I need to rest, or to remind me that I had an ordeal, turn around and go the fuck back to wherever you’ve been the last week.”

  “I missed you too, baby,” I say and I swear she hisses at me. “Your language always suffers when you’re mad. Hey, Stace, mind if I have a date with my girl?”

  Before she can tell me that Rachel shouldn’t go anywhere, I hold up the bag of supplies I brought with me. “She’ll still be in bed, I promise.”

  “If you think you’re getting some after you’ve helped them keep me prisoner for the last six days, think again.”

  I don’t bother shooting Rachel a glare, but I feel heat start to crawl up my neck as Stacy narrows her eyes at me. “Anaerobic activities only, I promise.”

  Finally, Stacy sighs and throws her hands up. “Yes, please, take her. I wouldn’t be here but my mom has a big meeting and god knows if Rae’s left by herself, she’ll break the rules.” She hands me the monitor. “Gracie’s in bed, and Pissy pants there hasn’t really eaten dinner.”

  “Thanks, Stace. I’ll hold the fort down for the rest of the night.”

  Despite Rachel’s bad-tempered glare, Stacy walks over and kisses her on the forehead. “Love you, and even with your attitude, I’m still glad you’re not dead.”

  “Ditto,” Rachel mumbles.

  I walk Stacy to her car. When I get back, Rachel is leaning against her headboard. “Hey,” I say and sit next to her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, are you talking to me? You’re not just going to sit here and stare at me while my mom and sister bully me?”

  “Someone’s feeling better.”


  “No, I’m feeling annoyed, suffocated, irritated and downright pissed off. But if you want to call that better, then sure. I feel fucking fantastic.” She scowls and slaps at my hand when I lean over and swipe at some hair. “There was nothing wrong with me. I had some bruises. Why is everyone acting like I was on life support?”

  “Because you could have been.” My words don’t sting, and I wonder briefly if seeing her has eased my fear—or if it’s because Tanner and Griff let me get my aggression out, and now all I have left is plain-and-simple gratitude for the way things turned out.

  “Thanks for the reminder,” she says stiffly, but like my words, there’s no sting left. I sigh, scooching farther onto the bed, close enough to touch her, but I don’t.

  “Where have you been?” she asks and I smile. She wants to be strong, but there’s something about me that calls to her—like there’s something about her that calls to everything inside of me. Together, we’re whole.

  “In my own head. I had to work some things out,” I tell her and reach over to brush my fingers along a tendril of hair that’s escaped her ponytail again. This time she doesn’t slap at me.

  “Are you okay now?” she asks, and I hear the insecurity in her voice. Leaning closer, I press my lips to her cheeks, one, then the other, and watch her eyes close.

  “I want to kill him, Rachel,” I say and they snap open again. “I know it’s over, but it won’t be over for me…not fully, for a long time. Not as long as I can see you like I did that day—in the bathroom, terrified and running from him, the bruises on your neck already forming. I bet that’s how your mom and Stacy feel,” I say and she looks down at her legs.

  “I’m fine, though.”

  “Yeah, you are. But we still need to pamper you, to take care of you, to be mad for you…because you weren’t the only one in that bathroom who had something to lose. We can’t lose you,” my voice breaks. Clearing it, I say it again. “I can’t lose you. I’m sorry I wasn’t around much, but I don’t know how to be here for you and not upset you. I don’t know how not to be angry with him—and every time I see those bruises, I’m angry. I want to rant and rave and pummel someone…so I stayed away.”

  “And beat up Tanner?” she asks.

  “Maybe.” I take her hand and look down at her fingers, so long and beautiful. I know the strength they hold, the power. I raise her hand and kiss her palm. “I’m sorry you’re annoyed and sick of being taken care of, but you’ll have to deal…because the rest of us are just so grateful you’re okay.”

  “I guess I understand,” she says, and smiles at me. “It’s weird, but I’m not angry at Marcus, not really. I’m glad it’s over, and I’m a little scared sometimes when I think of what could have happened…but mostly, I’m just glad it’s done. And I’m glad you’re here, so you better be staying.”

  “Rachel,” I start, but she stops me.

  “I won’t let him take this from me, Tripp. When I was in that bathroom and I wanted to give up, that’s what kept me going. This—you and me, us, Gracie—it’s what made me fight. Even if you hadn’t kicked that door down, I’d have gotten out of there for this.”

  “I know,” I say. And honestly, as proud as that makes me, it scares me a little too. Just like I did before, I wonder if she’ll ever need me the way I need her.

  “But you know what I still would have needed?” I shake my head, afraid to speak. “You to be with me afterward. And you were. You were there when I needed you, Tripp. Like always. Are you here now?”

  I’m still mad, but now the anger is being pushed to the back, replaced with Rachel. Just Rachel. I nod and hold out my arms. “Yeah, I’m here now.”

  She burrows into me. I roll us so we’re laying wrapped in each other, our hearts matching their rhythm together. “Hey Tripp?”

  “Hmm?” My voice is thick and my eyes are closed because good god, to hold her again is the best kind of salve on my burning wound.

  “Want to go look for a house to rent next year?”

  My eyes crack a little to look down at her. Hers are big and wide and right on my face, but they aren’t scared.

  I nod. “What brought this on? Aren’t we going to wait and see if a JuCo around here has money to give you? Or Oregon? I’ll live on your campus and commute. I already told you that.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful. You know that text I sent you before that whole thing with Marcus happened? It was because Coach told me I got my tryout. The university here is going to give me a recruited walk-on tryout.” She smiles when I sit us both up, shifting her until she’s in my lap and my arms are around her.

  “Congratulations, Rachel. I knew you could do it.”

  “With you. I can do it with you, Tripp.” She leans back and looks at me. “We’re young. I know that. And with Gracie, life is going to be different than it would if you were just going to college as a normal eighteen-year-old.”

  “Rachel, if you’re about to say you want me to go live my dream—”

  “Please, that ship has sailed. You’re stuck with me, so settle down and listen,” she says and laughter bursts out of me. “I’m ready to move forward, to have our future. It’s not going to be easy, but I don’t care. I just care about you, us, and making things work.”

  There they are, those words that make everything that’s happened smaller, until the only thing that matters is her and me. “Me, too.”

  “Next week?” she asks, and I nod. “Good. Now, what’s in the bag for this date night?”

  I smile and bring her closer. “Sour Patch Kids and McConaughey.”

  Epilogue

  Future

  “Hurry, Daddy.”

  “I’m coming, baby. We’ve still got time.”

  I shift the bouquet of flowers and grip Gracie’s hand more securely in mine as we wind through the crowded hallways of Gill Coliseum on our way to our seats for Rachel’s last game. Four years ago, we did it. We made a decision to take a chance, and though it was a lot of work, we did it. Now she’s taking the court to play her last home game as a Beaver—and I’m laughing as our daughter tugs on my hand and looks over her shoulder, giving me that look that is all Rachel.

  Our daughter. Last year, Rachel and I got married, and I legally adopted Gracie. Like her mother, I’ve always thought of this beautiful little girl as mine, but now the courts acknowledge it too. Marcus and his family haven’t been in the picture since that summer after we graduated from high school. He was never punished for what he did to Rachel; his lawyer cited emotional distress, and that, coupled with his family’s influence, got him off the hook with mandatory counseling. Rachel didn’t press for a trial because she wanted it behind her. Instead, she got him to sign papers, releasing any rights to Gracie.

  There was a moment when I hesitated over this. I took Rachel aside and asked her if this was the right decision for Gracie. He’s her biological father—no matter how happy a kid she is, if she knows her blood comes from someone else, won’t she want to know why he isn’t in her life? Won’t she have questions?

  “Yeah, and I’ll answer them with the truth.” She must have seen my face. “The truth being that not every family shares blood—but what they share is more. She has your head tilt, and your patience. She doesn’t need your blood to learn from you, Tripp. So don’t ever think that.”

  And she was right. Every day, Gracie grows a little more, and every day I see pieces of both Rachel and me in her. She’s not as quick to explode as her mama—thank the sweet baby Jesus—but as Rachel says, she’s also not as slow to make certain decisions as yours truly. When Gracie wants something, she finds a way to get it. It terrifies me as much as it makes me proud.

  We get to the aisle our seats are on, and I see Dr. C and my parents already seated. Gracie immediately lets go of my hand and races the rest of the way over, throwing her arms around all three of her grandparents in turn. Both sets of parents have done more for us in the past few years than we ever could have asked for.

  Two days a
week Gracie stays with her Nonna, Rachel’s mom. One night a weekend she stays with my parents. Stacy and Nick take her a couple of days after school so I can work and study and Rachel can finish practice and study. It’s nice for them too. Gracie entertains their daughter, Layla Grace. G comes to get her whenever she wants, always saying how much she misses having her girl full time.

  When Gracie is at home, she has Uncle Tanner and Katie, and Uncle Griff when he comes down from Portland where he works now. She has family. And every day, Rachel’s words are truer: the love is strong.

  I’m two years away from finishing my mechanical-engineering degree. I started taking a shortened load after we got married—even though Rachel threw the mother of all fits.

  “If anyone should sacrifice, it should be me.”

  “What exactly am I sacrificing, Rachel?”

  “School, you big idiot.”

  “I’m not sacrificing. I’m taking less so I can work at the shop more and be here for you and Gracie. It’s a few years longer in school—I’m not quitting.”

  “I don’t care. You shouldn’t have to do that. I’ll do it. I’ll stop playing and get a job.”

  “Now who’s being an idiot? Listen before you punch me. I want to do this—school isn’t going anywhere. I’m still enrolled, still taking classes, still getting my degree. Your school is paid for by the team now. You can’t quit.”

  Because she’s Rachel, she still argued, even though she saw my point. In the end, though, I won. I know she still worries, but I love working at the shop with Tanner and my dad. I’m getting my degree so I can do more—give my family more—but working there, being able to spend time with my daughter and wife, being able to support them without so much help from our families, it’s the most important thing to me.

  “Tripp,” Dr. C says when I stop at our seats. I smile and lean down to kiss her on the cheek. Then I repeat the process with my own mom, slapping my dad on the back before I sit next to him.

  “Where’s Tanner?” he asks and I smile.

  “He and Katie had a few things to do take care of before they headed out. He said they would be here on time.”