Tripp

by Irish Winters

  “No, Tripp. I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice as tight as that braid. “Let’s just go.”

  The dreaded fine, pure poison in conversation with any woman. Trish had certainly used it enough. In her language, it meant, ‘fuck off.’ With Ashley, it most likely meant, ‘Leave me the heck alone.’ Which somehow, made Tripp feel worse.

  Unlike Trish, Ashley deserved a white picket fence, a cute little family, and security, not a guy like him. Tripp was a driven loner, still more GI than civilian. Still prone to over-the-top PTSD issues, he’d proven over and over that he was as rough as a cob and short-tempered. Hell, his family was nothing to be proud of. He refused to give what he didn’t have to offer. Ashley deserved more. End of story.

  “Come on, then,” Tripp said as he lifted to his feet, his arm stretched out to her, his fingers fluttering for her to take his hand.

  Ashley stood, but kept her hands to herself. “Let’s go.”

  Well, damn. It’d been a long time since Tripp had to deal with the cold shoulder. Sucking in a gut full of tolerance, he gestured toward the door. Words were no longer necessary. There was nothing he could say that would make this night better. Maybe he’d take Jameson and Maddie up on that offer after all.

  The hospital was just a couple blocks up the street from the hotel. Tripp called his mom for Trish’s room number, after he parked his truck in the attached parking terrace. The elevator ride up to Intensive Care was quiet. At the ICU nurses’ station, he checked in and asked about his mom. One of the nurses said she was with Trish’s doctor in the family room across the hall. Shit. What now? Go in alone? Drag Ashley into a private and potentially embarrassing family discussion?

  Tripp didn’t want to see his mom without Ashley at his side. Not that he needed her to save him, but her being a woman would surely help Andy. Taking a chance, he wrapped an arm across Ashley’s shoulder and pulled her into his side. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  For the first time since she’d refused his invitation to shower together, she looked up at him. “Shut up, Tripp. I’m here for you, and I’m here for your mom. Get over yourself.”

  God, he wanted to kiss the hell out of her all over again. Ashley had developed one helluva backbone these last couple days. She was… He damned nearly swallowed his tongue. She was too good for any guy, not just him. But he sure as hell didn’t want to be the guy who lost her to someone else. Who wasn’t smart enough to hold onto her.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, as meek as he’d never been in his life. He was the jock, the super star, the one everyone cheered and adored. Yet this tiny elfin princess had shot an arrow through his self-inflated opinion of himself, past his grandiose ego, and straight into his heart. The damned thing hurt like she’d torn it open with that prickly spine of hers. Could he give her up? Could he let her go? Tripp wasn’t sure he could be that selfless anymore. Or if he’d ever been. Bombastic. Arrogant. Dumber than shit. Those descriptors rang true. But selfless? Not so much.

  Gathering his courage, Tripp palmed the family room’s door open and ushered Ashley inside, his hand possessively on the small of her back. He couldn’t help but notice how tiny her waist was, how his larger hand dwarfed her. Or how his mom’s tired green eyes, the same color as his and Trish’s, lit with joy when she saw him, but mostly when she saw Ashley.

  Andy jumped to her feet, ever the gracious hostess, even at the worst of times. Like all women, she ran a quick hand over her hair. “Tripp! Who’s this pretty thing?”

  “Hi, Mom. Sorry I’m late. This is Ashley Cox. Ashley, meet Andrea McClane.”

  Ashley reached her hand forward, but just like he knew she’d do, Andy brushed it aside and pulled her into a hug. “You’re the one who made that delicious chicken and dumplings,” she murmured into Ashley’s ear as she squeezed her tight. “Thank you so much for thinking of me and Tripp’s friends. It was so good. Everyone wants your recipe.”

  Every damned thing about his mom was always sincere. Tears sparkled at Tripp’s peripheral. He wiped that shit away. Guys didn’t cry.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mrs. McClane,” Ashley replied quietly. “I love comfort food. I hope the soup helped you feel better.”

  “Oh, it did, and it was such a nice surprise. Tripp’s guys have been taking good care of me, but home-cooked meals are always the best. It isn’t every day my boy brings a girlfriend to meet me. In fact…” Andy rolled her eyes. “This is a first.”

  She offered Ashley the chair at her right and nodded for Tripp to take the one at her left. “Please, sit down. Join us.” Andy made it sound like a good thing. “Doctor Smith is just about to explain my daughter’s transfer into a nearby rehabilitation center, Ashley. He’s her spine doctor. Doctor Pitt just left. He’s her thoracic specialist. You might not know this, but she was attacked a couple nights ago, but she’s going to make it, isn’t she?” Andy aimed that question at the ever-smiling Doctor Smith.

  “Already?” Tripp barked. “You guys are moving my sister already? Christ, has she even woken up yet?”

  Doctor Smith shot him a big, wide open grin. Man, the guy had as square and big a chin as Tucker Chase, with teeth as straight and white as any guy on a toothpaste commercial. “Of course not. We need to make sure she’s stable before we move her, but she’s showing excellent progress. Aren’t you excited?”

  Tripp ran a hand over his head. It hadn’t even been a full day yet. What was there to be excited about? Staggering hospital debt? Trish’s eat-shit-and-die attitude in his face every damned day for the rest of his life—if she were totally disabled? Andy being run ragged to please a daughter who’d never once in her life cared about anyone but herself?

  His gaze dropped to the tabletop in front of him. Funny how it looked like real wood, but it wasn’t, was it? It was laminate on chipboard with a shitload of glue holding them together. One hundred percent fake. Like the hope Smith was dishing out.

  “Tripp, honey?” his mom asked, her much smaller hand settling warm and so damned strong on his wrist. “I need you in this with me all the way. I know it’s a huge responsibility, but we can do it. Together. We can save Trish’s life, maybe even turn her around. I know we can.”

  Tripp swallowed his concerns and stiffened his spine. Andy already believed; now she needed him to jump on the faith train with her. He just didn’t know how. But he could pretend. Anchoring the pad of his thumb at his temple, he swiped his fingers over his forehead in frustration. Here we go again.

  This wasn’t a simple mom and son outing staring them in the face. This was his messed-up twin—another one of her disasters in the making. Ever since he’d been old enough to work, he’d supported his mom and sister. Come hell or high water, he’d sent most all of his Army paychecks home, so Andy could focus on helping, finding, or rescuing Trish. So his mom wouldn’t have to worry about where her next meal was coming from, or whether she had enough money to pay rent and utilities.

  Tripp would have to work overtime for the rest of his life to pay Trish’s hospital bills—if he still had a job after his meeting with Alex tomorrow morning. Her rehabilitation would be costly, and she’d require months of that. He’d rarely see his mom or her because there wouldn’t be enough damned time in the day to work his guts out and help his family. Andy’d be the one stuck tending to Trish’s physical and emotional needs, day in and day out. Tripp would be the one stuck paying the bills. Again, gawddamnit. Cleaning up Trish’s mess for the rest of her sad life. However long that was.

  “I take it you haven’t talked with your boss yet?”

  Tripp looked down at Doctor Smith’s much larger hand now clamped over the top of Andy’s hand and Tripp’s wrist. “No, sir. Sure haven’t. But tomorrow, first thing, I get to do that.”

  Smith peered at Tripp from beneath his brows. “Mr. Stewart’s a good guy, isn’t he?”

  Everyone knew that. “He’s a good shot, too.” And he’s going to kill me tomorrow, bright and early
.

  Smith drew in a deep breath, then blew it out slowly through pursed lips, like he was debating what to say next. “It’s not my place to tell you this, but…”

  Shit, what now? Tripp honestly couldn’t see a light at the end of this godforsaken tunnel. Not this time. Trish had done it to him and Andy again. Through all her wrong choices, she was still stomping the shit out of the only two people who’d ever loved her sorry ass.

  Tripp pulled away from Smith’s unwelcome touch and kicked his chair back from the table, sick at heart for his mom most of all, but too damned worn out to care about his twin.

  “I think you should know that…” Smith ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “You and your mom aren’t alone in this endeavor.”

  Tripp glared at the doctor. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s true.” Smith’s head bobbed. “I’m going to tell you something I wouldn’t ordinarily share. It’s not confidential but…” His eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “Here goes. Mr. Stewart’s paying your sister’s medical costs. All of them. Even her rehab. Anything else she needs. He’s already called in two of my esteemed colleagues for second and third opinions. Do you believe that?” The man just could not stop smiling. “Trust me, Trish is in the very best hands, so are you and your mom.”

  Unbelievable. “No kidding?” Tripp asked, at the same time Andy shrieked, “He what? No. Mr. Stewart can’t do that. I won’t let him.” She turned on Tripp. “You have to stop him. Tell him no.”

  Tripp didn’t know what to say. “But Mom, he’s my boss, and once he makes up his mind to do something…” Telling Alex no won’t go over too well. It’s the right thing to do, but damn…

  “It’s not his burden to bear.” Andy tipped her head into her hands, her shoulders quaking. “It’s mine.”

  Tripp rested his hand between her shoulder blades. Man, her heart was pounding. So was his. “It’s ours, Mom, not just yours. Don’t cry. I’ll talk to him, and we’ll figure a way forward.”

  She turned her teary eyes on him. “Promise?”

  Not fair. He never could resist his mom when she cried. “Sure,” he said, patting her back to keep her from falling apart. “I have a meeting with him first thing in the morning. I’ll talk with him then.” And then I’ll file for unemployment.

  Ashley turned her pretty blues on Andy. “I’d let Alex help. I’ve seen his workplace, and…” She glanced at Tripp out of the corner of her eye. “I heard him telling his friend about some land he just bought, and how he has great plans for his TEAM, and…” She swallowed hard. “One gift never diminishes another, Mrs. McClane.”

  “But we’re talking a lot of money here,” Tripp argued.

  She met his eyes and raised him one. “Sounds to me like Alex has more money than he knows what to do with. Don’t make him feel bad by rejecting his kindness. That’s not why gifts are given, to make someone else feel bad. I’ve only just met him, but if he wants to do this for Andy and Trish and, err, you, I’d sure let him.”

  “Where did you find this gem?” his mom asked, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “At the corner of King Street and forever,” Tripp murmured, his heart stuck up so high in his throat, he could barely breathe.

  “So, it’s a go then? You’ll accept Mr. Stewart’s gift?” Doctor Smith asked, his enthusiasm for Trish’s recovery off the Richter scale again.

  “I’ll have to talk with him first, but…” Tripp stalled. His mom’s pride and self-respect were on the line. They were all she had left. He refused to trample her wishes the way Trish always did. “I mean, Mom and I will talk with Alex.” He leaned into her and kissed her cheek. “You asked my boss for a miracle, remember. This might be it.”

  Tripp thought back to the night he’d found Trish after her assault. He’d asked for a miracle then, too. Jesus, could Alex really be the answer to that hastily uttered prayer?

  Andy turned to face Tripp. “But I never meant for him to be so… so…”

  “Generous?” Doctor Smith offered the seemingly innocuous word, that was right then choking the shit out of Tripp. His boss was doing this for him? For his mom? Trish’s care would run into hundreds of thousands of dollars. What did a guy say to a gift like that? No? Yeah, sure, thanks? Tripp couldn’t come up with the right words.

  Ashley wrapped an arm around Andy’s shoulder. “Maybe Alex Stewart is your guardian angel in disguise. We all have one. I know I do. Alex must be yours.”

  “I don’t believe in angels anymore,” Andy sputtered. She was blinking, trying to keep her composure. “And I never meant for anyone to do this.”

  “Here you go, Andy.” Doctor Smith handed her the box of tissues from the credenza behind him. “It is a huge monetary gift, and, of course, accepting it would be hard. I understand that, but Alex Stewart is one of our biggest donors. He and his wife built the new pediatric intensive care unit upstairs. Trust him. He’s only doing this because he can, and because he cares.”

  Tripp knew damned well that his boss cared. Else why did he absorb his agents’ health insurance costs like he did? Talk about benefits. Alex gave The TEAM the best of everything. But this? Tripp stuck both hands in his pockets, trying to wrap his head around accepting that great of a gift. His right hand fell into the silken nest of Ashley’s panties. His eyes shot to her tender features. She’d just given him one helluva gift, yet he’d held back. Hadn’t said the words she needed to hear.

  While Andy blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes, Ashley’s sapphire gaze drifted over her shoulder to him. “I believe in guardian angels, Mrs. McClane,” she told his mom while she looked at him. “They’re as real as devils, only they show up when you need them the most. Be kind, Andy. Let Alex be kind, too. You get to give him a gift just by accepting his offer. Give him a hug next time you see him. Bet he’ll like that more than anything else.”

  Tripp bowed his head, a smitten, but foolish, foolish man. If he were alone, he’d pull those panties out of his pocket and bury his nose in them. He licked his bottom lip, shocked at how hard his heart was thumping in his chest, like it wanted out of its cage, right damned now.

  He shoved his chair back. “Mom, I, umm…” Have got to get the fuck out of here. “M-m-nom,” he choked. “Stay here. Talk to Doctor Smith. I’ll be right back. Just need a minute with… Ashley?” Tripp stretched out his hand, daring her to refuse him this time. “Please?” he begged, needing whatever the hell she had that made her tougher than anyone he’d ever met.

  For God’s sake, every time she’d been knocked down, she’d gotten back up, and that was something to be damned proud of. She was that dog-tired boxer in the ring, the one nobody ever bet on. The one everyone, even her own parents, expected would lose. She was the long shot. The underdog. She’d been backed into corners all of her life. Bloodied and sweating and about to drop. About to give up. But here she was, still going strong. Stronger…

  He’d known that same hopeless feeling, the panicky what-ifs that went with fighting the world. It was one hell of a desperate alone-time, when a person’s mettle was truly tested. When it had just been him against the odds. Those times were when he’d truly known what he was made of. When he’d had to pull every last ounce of resilience up from the deepest part of his gut to keep fighting, just to keep trying. To stand.

  Yet Ashley had done that all her life, and she’d done it alone. She wasn’t a loser, by hell! She’d relentlessly fought on and fought back. She thought she was a coward? Guess again, little girl. This woman was a lot braver than some grown-assed men he’d served with.

  Her tender analysis of Alex’s magnanimous gift had knocked Tripp right out of the ballpark. Sloppy tears perched on the rims of his eyelids, ready to drip down his damned face. This was another one of those alone, what-if times. Alex’s stepping up like he had was like someone taking a beating for Tripp. Someone purposefully stepping into the line of fire. Sure gave that old sniper saying, ‘From a place you’ll never see, will come a sound you�
�ll never hear,’ a different meaning. Because Tripp had never seen this coming.

  “Please, take my hand,” he asked again. So I can stop embarrassing myself.

  Silently, Ashley lifted to her feet and reached for him. Tripp grabbed onto her fingers like a drowning man grabbing onto a lifeline and pulled her into the hall. Like a man gone crazy, he pinned her against the wall the second the door closed behind them. “You,” he groaned into her surprised mouth. “I want you. Only you.”

  He kissed her hard, grinding his lips into hers, breaching her mouth with his tongue, spearing her the way her words had just speared his heart. He’d always thought he knew so much, but he didn’t, not really. Sure as hell not about what mattered most.

  Thrumming with worry, Tripp ran both hands over Ashley’s shoulders and down her arms, then back up again, needing to absorb this woman. If only he could. He cupped her delicate jaw between his big, rough hands. Hands that had dealt out death and justice wherever he’d served. Yet not once had he accomplished what she just had. Not once had he seen through all the crap in life, to the heart of it, the real reason for living and fighting. It wasn’t about serving justice or revenge. It surely wasn’t about making people pay for their mistakes. Life was about giving back. It was about service and pure, simple love. Which, apparently, his badassed boss understood a helluva lot better than he did.

  “Ashley,” Tripp breathed into her mouth. “I’m sorry. You’re right. God, you’re so much braver than me.”

  “I am?” she mumbled around his lips.

  “I am such an idiot.” Tripp couldn’t hold back the passion storming his soul. But he didn’t want her to see him crying, either. So he hid it by kissing her.

  “You are,” she whispered sweetly into his mouth. But then she bowed her head and told the floor, “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

  But he did. “I love you, Ashley. I know it’s crazy, it doesn’t make any sense, and it’s too soon, but—”

  “You’re emotional right now. You’re overwhelmed. You don’t know what you’re saying.”