43. Tripp
Chapter 43
Tripp
S hame fills me even as I stand outside in the cold with Ram and Beau trying to figure out why the goddamned generator isn’t running. The snow swirls around us, the blistering wind cutting through my jacket despite trying my best to keep it closed tight.
“The fucking thing ain’t been serviced,” Ram growls. “We’re not usually home right now.”
“Can you get it running?” I ask.
“Not with this fucking storm. I’d have to take the damn thing apart and it’s hardly a good time for that.” He shakes his head and blows on his fingers for warmth. “We got enough firewood in the house for a few days. We light the fireplace.”
“Is that gonna cut it?” Beau asks. “I don’t want her freezin’.”
Even in the face of the very real danger we’re dealing with, Beau’s first worry is for Indie. I don’t blame him. My own concern is the woman inside waiting for us, the one who we had to fight to keep from coming outside to help. She ain’t got the clothes for this kind of weather, nor is she used to it. It’s best she wait in the fading heat while we deal with the cold.
“It should keep the living room warm,” Ram says. “That’s the best we got for now. I gotta call Mom and see if she’s doing okay over there. Make sure her gen came on.”
I kick the generator in annoyance. Fucking waste of fifteen grand if you ask me.
The three of us wade through the snow drifts before slipping back inside, dragging cold and snow with us. Already, the house is colder than it ought to be. And that’s a problem.
Indie already has a bruised neck because of me. She ain’t gonna be cold on top of that.
“Gen’s gone,” I tell her as we come inside. “It wasn’t serviced, and the damn thing won’t restart.”
Indie sits on the couch wrapped in blankets. “So, what now? We can’t exactly go anywhere.”
“Mom has a generator and says it’s running fine, but there’s no way to get to her house, not while it’s snowing it’s ass off,” Ram admits. “Best to wait it out with a warm fire.”
Ram and Beau get to work on the fireplace. I decide that it’s best we have some food in our bellies, so I go into the kitchen and start working on a meal that doesn’t require cooking. Luckily, we stocked the fridge yesterday, or else this might have been a very uncomfortable wait.
When I come back into the living room with the bowl and chips, the fireplace is roaring, and the room is already starting to feel warmer. Thank God Beau learned how to start a fire proper when we were kids. After all, he’s the fire bug between us.
“I got lunch,” I declare, setting the bowl on the table.
Indie leans forward. “What’s that?”
“Cowboy Caviar,” I reply. “It’s a dip. Best I can do right now without power.”
She hums and grabs a chip, scooping up some of the mix and taking a bite. I watch her with bated breath, desperate to hear what she thinks. I wonder if she knows how much her opinion means to me. “Wow,” she says after she finishes the bite. “That’s really fucking good.”
Beau laughs. “Wait ‘til you try his chili. You’ll fall in love with him just for that.”
Love. We haven’t even talked about something like that. Hell, we aren’t exactly dating. . .
Right?
I take a seat and fill my plate with the dip before leaning back. “You said if I’m going to heal, I gotta open the box, right?”
Her eyes flick to me. “At your own pace, yeah.”
“I’m not really the patient kind,” I admit. “So, I figure just telling you about it is best. Rip off the band aid quick, you know?”
She leans back. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Tripp.”
I nod and gather my senses. Fuck, I could really use a drink right now. But the thought of it reminds me of the marks on Indie’s neck and all the times I gave Ram a black eye, all the times they’d had to carry me home, and the desire turns to acid in my stomach. How had I let myself get to this point? It took a reporter on my doorstep with dark eyes and a penchant for stealing pens to realize just how far I’d fallen. It shouldn’t have taken so long.
“The first time I was on the back of a rodeo bull was when I was four,” I start.
She gasps. “So young?”
Nodding, I take a bite before continuing. “My grandpa put my dad on his first bull at the same age, so I was no different. Savage boys are built for rodeo and nothing else, so might as well start as soon as you’re able. Pretty sure Dad would have put me on earlier if not for my mama.” I frown. “She died a week before he put me on the bull, so. . . kind of the next step in my dad’s eyes, I guess. Grandpa didn’t help. He treated my dad like shit, and in return, my dad did the same to me. If I wasn’t no good at bull riding, then I was worthless, so best get to learning quick.”
She doesn’t look at me with pity. I expected pity. Somehow, her understanding hurts worse.
“Ram grew up here with me, but he was already eleven by the time I was four, already busy shoveling out the barn and working the job my dad expected of him. Beau didn’t show up until a few years later. But for a while, it was just me at Dad and Grandpa’s mercy. Broke my arm a few times when I was thrown. Didn’t matter. I was on that bull with a cast.”
I sigh. “About six months after my mama died though, things got worse when dad moved Kelly in.” At her questioning eyes, I add, “Darla’s mom.”
“That quickly?” she whispers.
“Yeah. My timeline is a little off in my memory I think, but the math don’t lie. Darla was born a month after she moved in, and she’s very much my father’s daughter. He made sure to test her.”
“Which means he was. . .” Indie sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“My mom died from a heart condition. But yeah, he was already messing around on her while she was sick. When I’d realized that at twelve, I’d confronted him about it and got my first tooth knocked out by him. When he took me to the dentist to get it fixed, he told me that it was my own fault for not minding my business.” I shake my head. “Darla and I not being close is by his design. He always pitted us against each other, and honestly, he treated her worse than he treated her mom. Still does.”
“And yet you force her to stay in that house with him?” she asks.
“I don’t force her to do anything,” I grunt. “She can leave at any time. Let that old man rot as far as I’m concerned.” I blow out a puff of air. “Except. . . he’s still my dad, I guess. So yeah, maybe I’ve been an asshole and said some shitty things to Darla. I probably could have been a better big brother, but. . . I was busy trying to survive. For every time he neglected Darla, his attention was on me instead. If I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t get. . . I didn’t get to eat. If not for Maria, I’d have probably starved.”
“What about your grandpa?” she asks.
“Ah, yes. The source of the fucking legacy,” I growl. “Yeah, he was an asshole, but you know what, he treated me better than my dad did.”
Beau nods. “He knew Tripp was gonna be the real legacy.”
“That he did,” I say bitterly. “They wanted me to be the best, and when I surpassed Dad’s skill, he never forgave me for that. When I surpassed Grandpa, well. . . Grandpa was at least proud, even if he expected more because of it.” I gesture to Beau and Ram. “It was my job to keep their attention on me, so those two didn’t get the worst of the treatment.”
Indie’s face tightens. “So you took their anger on yourself.”
“I carried the burden so no one else had to, and I’d choose to do it again,” I admit. “I’m strong enough to carry it.”
“But you were just a child,” she says. “Your spine wasn’t developed enough to be their pillar.”
Her words stab me. I even press my hand against my chest to make sure I’m not bleeding. Fuck. I rub there just in case and have to clear my throat to keep speaking.
“There’s something really fucked about feeling like that house is where I had the worst years of my life,” I rasp. “And also, I was loved there, once. My mom was nothing like that man. I still don’t understand what she saw in him, or even if she ever loved him. It’s never really made sense.”
“Why keep coming back here?” she asks genuinely. “Why not let the ranch go if it holds so much pain?”
I shrug. “Duty, maybe. Maybe some part of me believes in the legacy.” My face scrunches up. “Maybe I’m still trying to contort myself back into the shape of a dutiful child. I don’t really know. But. . . it feels wrong. And there are other people who depend on this place as much as I hate it.”
“A heavy legacy,” she breathes. “You three carry a lot with you.”
I swallow thickly. “I couldn’t hold the weight if not for Beau and Ram. I’d have tapped out a long time ago. Honestly. Them and Bilbo.” I pet the dog in question where he lies curled up against me, the blanket I’d been using wrapped up around him rather than me. He deserves to not be cold. I don’t really think I do.
Her expression softens. “Sometimes, that’s enough to keep us going.” She shrugs. “I once forced myself forward through a war zone because I’d bought a Venus fly trap, and I was worried no one else would remember to feed it. At least your reasons have a heartbeat.”
Despite the heavy subject, I laugh. “Did you get back to feed it?”
“Yeah,” she admits. “But I killed it anyway. Apparently, I gave it too much water.”
And if that doesn’t tell me the kind of person Indie Chen is, I don’t know what does. The woman who went through a war zone to make sure she fed her Venus fly trap. The woman who cared so much, she didn’t know when to stop watering.
For that alone, I promise myself to try. For her.
If I don’t, she’ll take on the weight I can’t. They all will. And I will no longer let them drown while I use them to tread water. I want her to stay. I want her here for as long as she’s willing.
So, for the journalist who came into my life like a stubborn bull, I’ll face my fears.
I’ll face my father.