Chapter 70 Trips
Trips
Mattie’s tears hurt just as much as Clara’s. And while I’ve gotten a few hours of sleep, my temper burns under my skin, aching to explode at the mildest trigger. God. Clara wasn’t lying when she said this shit would always be with me, even if I have more control than before.
“Sparkles, what’s going on? How did you get here? Does your mom know where you are?”
She tugs on her sleeves. “I left her a note.”
“Like, a physical piece of paper?”
“Yeah. I called a car. She’s absolutely smothering me, and I knew she wouldn’t let me come, but this is too important to put off.”
Clara tugs her onto the couch beside her, and with a glance, the rest of the guys go to the kitchen, leaving my baby sister, my wife, and me alone in the room. But I know enough to know they’re crowded by the door, listening in. They are crooks, after all.
“You know you have nothing to apologize for, right, Mattie? We’re just glad you’re okay,” Clara says, taking over while I get myself under control.
Mattie curls into a ball. “But I killed your dad. I killed your perfectly nice dad and ran away with your ex. He’s my ex too, I guess, but yeah. I’m pretty sure I’m unforgivable.”
Clara says nothing but opens her arms. After a moment, Mattie crawls into them, and Clara holds her as ragged sobs rake through her, her red hair shimmering under the lights with every gasp.
I will kill Bryce the next time I see him. And unlike the other deaths on my conscience, I won’t feel an ounce of regret. The man has brought two of the smartest and strongest women I’ve ever known to their breaking points.
Good women, good people, shouldn’t be broken. They should be fostered, supported, and encouraged to bloom into the powerhouses they were born to be. And the two women clutching each other on the couch are exactly those kind of women.
He will pay.
Once Mattie calms enough to string together cogent sentences, Clara repeats that she did nothing wrong, that she was trying to save a life, not take one, and that she has no hard feelings toward her.
And the crazy thing is, she means it. Having spent the same childhood analyzing every word someone says, the tone and meaning behind them, Mattie has no choice but to believe her.
Jansen pops out with a tray of two coffees and a hot cocoa, leaving it on the table with a plate of Walker’s chocolate chip cookies, now a few days old, but still better than any I’ve been able to buy in any far-off country.
Mattie picks up her cup and sips it like it’s medicine—something she has to take to get better later.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, not wanting to push her.
“Not really. I just wish I’d figured it out sooner. But yeah. I got out of there. Good riddance.” She takes another sip, then glances at the woman beside her on the couch. “It was actually your dad who helped me figure it out.”
Clara’s brow scrunches as she sets down her mug.
“It took me a few days to puzzle it out, but it was weird that he knew Bry’s last name.
Everything he said sounded like a riddle, but once I realized Trips must have taken your last name—” she glances at me with a hint of a grin “—you’re a lot more progressive than you let on, middlest brother.
” Her smile fades quickly, and she drops her gaze to her lap, tugging on the ends of her sleeves.
“After I figured that out, though, I felt like the biggest idiot. I confronted him about it, and he didn’t deny it.
He laughed at me, saying he’d gone after me to get back at you, but that I ended up being a fun challenge.
God, he…he said that we wouldn’t last because I wasn’t trainable.
Like a dog. And when I got mad, well…” She slams the mug onto the tray.
“Anybody who hits someone smaller than they are isn’t anyone worth my time.
So, I snuck out, only to find that Mom had left Father. Like maybe permanently?”
She looks at me for confirmation, but I’m still caught on what she didn’t fully say. Bryce fucking hit my sister.
Not only is he going to die, but it’s going to hurt like hell.
Clara once again takes over, as I’m sure I’m transparent as hell. There’s no way I can mask this amount of rage.
“We were as surprised as you were to hear about your parents.”
“She said she’d wanted to leave since before I was born, but that Father had something on her.
I asked her why we weren’t hurt like you, Archie, and she said she had something on Father, too.
But she’s weird right now. Like, frozen over.
The only emotion she’s shown is when I try to leave her friend’s penthouse.
Then she’s a volcano. It’s kind of freaky. ”
“Everybody deals with trauma differently,” I mutter, wishing I had something better to say, but still barely able to follow the conversation over the inferno boiling inside me.
Clara speaks almost at the same time. “What kind of freaky?”
Mattie tries another sip of the cocoa. “Like she’s cracked open, but I can’t tell if this is a transition to something better, or if she’s about to burn down the world, consequences be damned.
She’s spending all day scrolling for news on Father and then being annoyed when there isn’t much gossip besides what happened to your dad, Clara.
God, I’m so sorry. I was such a bitch to you.
To both of you. You freaked me out, and Bry said that it sounded like you two were dangerous, and you are, but I should have known better.
It’s Father that makes people do terrible, desperate things.
He breaks everybody. Of course he broke you two as well. ”
A shuddered breath warns of more tears, but she shakes her head, tossing the emotion aside with the capacity of an expert. “I’m sorry I pushed you both away. I wish I’d had a conversation instead of assuming the worst.”
Clara offers another hug, and Mattie takes it. “You’re fine. That place is awful, and your father made all of us into versions of ourselves we’d rather not know. But being scared is normal. Everything you did was perfectly normal. And I, for one, have no intention of holding any of it against you.”
Mattie nods, her phone buzzing in her pocket. “Ugh. That’s bound to be Mom.”
“Tell her you’re okay. We can bring you back if you’d like.”
Mattie taps out a message, not answering. “That would be good.”
Jansen shouts from the kitchen, “Clara and I were going shopping, so we can take you.”
“Was he…”
Clara laughs. “Assume the unexpected with Jansen. Eavesdropping is small potatoes to him. Do you want a moment with Trips?” she asks as she stands, collecting the cups onto the tray.
Mattie glances at me, her jaw locking in an expression I’m more likely to see in my reflection than on my baby sister’s face. “Yeah. That’d be good.”
Once it’s just the two of us, she taps the couch, inviting me to take the spot Clara just left.
I take it, Mattie turning sideways, legs crossed and sleeves pulled down over her fists.
“Are you going to kill him?” she whispers, glancing at the door Clara went through, catching onto her unexpected peanut gallery.
“Do you want me to?”
I let the silence build between us, trusting that we’re strong enough to survive it.
“As long as you don’t get in trouble, yeah. I do. But not at the expense of your new family.”
“You’ll always be my family, Mattie.”
She smacks my arm. “Like I’d let you give me up.”
I huff out something that would be a laugh if things weren’t so fucked up.
She sobers. “But, yeah. Make him pay. He’s earned it.”
“Doubly.”
“How did Clara move on after…that?”
God. I’m not the person to answer that question. “Time, good experiences, and therapy. She’s still not over it. She probably never will be. But it’s not as…big anymore.”
Mattie nods. “Good. I can do that. I will.”
“You will, Sparkles. You’re strong, smart, and a born fighter. No shit-stain of an asshole will keep you down.”
She laughs. “Damn straight.” She pushes off the couch, laughter from the kitchen echoing hers. “By the way, Mom let me go back home and grab some stuff while she knew Father was at the doctor’s. I think this is yours.”
I’m wondering what she could have possibly found in that house that I’d want, when she flings a tiny, perfectly round red ball at me. Catching it on instinct, it takes a minute for me to place it. “Is this the fucking bobble from your sweater last Christmas?”
“I told you that you’d fall for her. You did. Hard enough you changed your entire name. I think I more than won that bet, Archie.”
“Trips. Trips Bergan McElroy.”
She struts toward the kitchen. “Sounds good on you, middlest brother mine.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Takes one to know one.”
She pushes into the kitchen, leaving me on the couch with a cotton pom-pom in my palm, evidence of how much can change in a year.
For good or bad.
But I have to believe it’s mostly good. Once we clean up our last few frayed threads.