33. Tripp
Chapter 33
Tripp
A nger fills me so thoroughly, I know I wouldn’t be able to speak if I wanted to. Anger at Darla for her traitorous fucking actions. Anger that we’d had to make a detour because of her.
Anger that I’ve been forced to come home before I’m fucking ready.
I stay away from this place as much as possible, following the rodeo circuit until the season ends, and even then, I drive real slow coming back. Any excuse not to come back to this place is a worthy one. And yet here I am, back home in March when I should be chasing the fucking legacy.
I roll to a stop at the gates and throw the truck into park, not immediately reaching up to press the gate opener so they swing open. Those fucking gates haunt my nightmares. This whole place does.
Indie sits in the back silently, understanding that there’s more going on that we’re not telling her, but she doesn’t ask. I appreciate that. It must be difficult for her journalist soul to hold her tongue right now, especially since I can see the curiosity in her eyes.
Ram reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, offering comfort when I need it most. Beau does the same on my other side, silently lending his strength. Still, we sit there. It’s too late to confront anyone tonight, and honestly, I don’t know if I can. My hands are shaking, so I clench the steering wheel tighter to hide it, my father’s words trickling inside my mind despite my best effort to drown him out.
Savage men don’t show weakness. Their spines are made of steel. Is yours made of steel, boy?
When I still don’t move, Indie leans forward in her seat and slides her hand onto my shoulder beside Ram’s. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. I haven’t told her. But she understands that I don’t want to go in, and somehow, she understands that I need strength to do it.
Ironically, it’s her touch that finally fills my spine with the steel my father beat into me. I drop the truck back into gear and hit the button on the visor. The gates start to swing open without a sound, clearly well-oiled and maintained.
I’ll have to thank Ram’s mama when I see her tomorrow for taking care of things.
I take a deep breath, ease off the brake, and let the truck roll down the paved road made up of my worst memories.