Chapter 5
TRIPP
Tripp stopped in the boys’ bathroom to wash his hands on the way to the infirmary.
All the times he’d been in here back in school, it had been full of laughing, jostling teenage boys.
But now the bathroom was empty to the point of echoing. It made him feel old for some reason, even though he knew that it was after school hours, and of course the kids’ bathrooms were empty.
He studied himself in the mirror for a moment, then ran a still-damp hand through his slightly too-long hair and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t just making an excuse to try and catch a glimpse of Jillian.
After all, he should return the rest of the roll of surgical tape he’d taken from the infirmary’s supply room yesterday. A good citizen would do just that.
There was no reason for me to clean myself up beforehand though.
Rolling his eyes at his reflection, he turned away and headed back into the hallway.
Today’s practice had been a good one. The boys were really committed this year, and it showed.
A couple of his superstars had graduated last year. But just like Coach Johnson said, this year’s crop of juniors and seniors had been ready to take their place, and this season had started off just as promising as the one before.
He turned down the little hallway with the Infirmary sign hanging over it.
I’m just popping into the supply room to put this back, he told himself, rolling the circle of tape in his hand. Then I’ll head out. I won’t even see her. She probably left an hour ago.
But when he reached the door to the supply room, he heard Jillian speaking. The pitch of her voice made him think something was wrong, and he stopped in his tracks.
“I understand,” she was saying. “I completely understand and I’m very sorry. But I had no idea how bad things were when I—”
There was a pause, and he realized that she must be on the phone, and the other person had cut her off.
“Yes,” she said after a moment, her voice flat. “Yes, I get it. I hope you can book something else.”
Tripp frowned, wondering what was being booked.
But there was only silence now. Whoever she’d been talking to must have hung up.
Tripp knew he should turn around and leave her alone. Jillian had never liked him, and she wasn’t going to like him any better now that he was popping up in her driveway and then the infirmary for the second afternoon in a row.
But he couldn’t stand to hear her voice like that. The Jillian Johnson he remembered had never faced a challenge she couldn’t handle. It was awful to hear a note of surrender in her voice.
“Hey,” he heard himself say as he tapped lightly on the frame of her office door.
“Oh, um, hi,” Jillian said, turning from him, but not before he caught that her green eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Tripp said. “But that sounded like a bad phone call. Do you want to talk about it?”
He was pretty sure she was going to say no.
“That was my general contractor,” she said. “He’s really good. I did my homework.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Tripp said. No one was better at homework than Jillian.
“Anyway, he was going to put an addition on my grandparents’ place,” she said. “And once I saw the house, well, I realized what they really need is a renovation.”
Good luck getting them to agree to that, Tripp wanted to say.
“Can you swing both?” he asked instead, feeling like he already knew the answer.
“I can afford one or the other,” she admitted. “But the house needs repairs and maintenance more than the girls and I need privacy. I thought maybe the contractor would be willing to just change the project.”
Tripp nodded, not wanting to comment. Building an addition from scratch probably seemed easy compared to trying to renovate a house with five people living in it.
“He was so angry,” Jillian said, her eyes focused on something far away. “And now I’ll never find anyone to start before the holidays. The house is in shambles, and the girls and I will probably be sharing a room until they grow up and move away.”
“The three of you are in one room?” Tripp asked.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she said right away. “It’s a nice big room, and we get along just fine. I just hoped that the transition would be a little less… extreme for the girls.”
She blew out a sigh and then plastered a brave smile on her face.
Tripp felt the cost of that smile like it was scraping a layer off his own soul. Surely, there was a solution to all of this.
“What about the attic?” he asked her.
“Oh, I’m sure it needs work too,” Jillian said. “But I probably don’t have the budget to tackle the attic or the basement, just the two main floors.”
“No,” Tripp said. “I mean the attic is in great shape. I was up there when your grandfather was having the roof put on. It’s a huge space, as big as the whole second floor if you don’t mind a sloped ceiling.”
“Like for the girls and me?” Jillian asked.
“Yes,” Tripp said, starting to get excited. “You could probably do two bedrooms and a bathroom up there, maybe even a small sitting area.”
“Wow,” Jillian said, brightening. “I never would have thought of that.”
“I think it could be really nice,” Tripp said. “And fairly private.”
“I won’t have the funds though once I fix up the rest of the house,” Jillian said, her shoulders slumping a little. “At least not for a while. But I guess it’s something to save for, and cheaper than an addition?”
“Much cheaper,” Tripp agreed. “Think about it. You’ve already got a roof, walls, and a floor. And you’ve got easy access to electrical, plumbing and heat too.”
“That’s true,” Jillian said, nodding.
“And listen,” Tripp said before he could stop himself. “I can help out with the house. I want to help out with the house. I’ve offered before, but your grandfather won’t let me do much though.”
“You can do that kind of thing?” Jillian asked.
“Sure,” Tripp told her. “I do most of the maintenance on the farm buildings and my parents’ house. And I used to take care of all my siblings’ houses on the property too, before they all moved into them.”
“That’s amazing,” Jillian said. “I had no idea all that was part of farm work.”
“Pretty much everything is part of farm work when you’re on a farmer’s budget,” Tripp said, laughing. “I do plumbing, electrical, just about anything that needs doing. I’d be happy to help out.”
“I would pay you, of course,” Jillian said firmly.
“I don’t think so,” Tripp said. “We’re neighbors.”
“Neighbors loan each other a cup of sugar,” Jillian said. “They don’t renovate each other’s homes.”
“You can help me paint the barn next summer,” Tripp offered.
He was kidding, but she grinned at him.
“You know I love painting,” she said.
Suddenly, he was transported back to play practice in the Sugarville Grove High auditorium, watching Jillian paint canvas flats while the theater kids ran their lines.
Compared to the average stage manager, Jillian didn’t mind getting her hands dirty.
And for Tripp, there was something mesmerizing about watching her movements as she slid long, even strokes of paint across the canvas.
Everything she did was graceful, yet measured.
He’d wanted so badly to just sneak up behind her and release her golden hair from that ponytail, watch her splash a little paint outside the lines, and hear her laugh.
But he’d never dared to let those feelings show.
Until the one day when he finally broke, and overstepped by a mile.
But that was something he didn’t let himself think about too often.
“Then I’ll let you pick out the color,” he offered, tearing his eyes from hers.
“Don’t offer that,” she said with a mischievous smile. “You’ll wind up with a pink and purple barn.”
“The cows won’t mind,” he said, chuckling. “Can I stop by the house tomorrow? If I’m with you, maybe your grandfather will finally let me get the scope of what needs doing.”
“I’ll tell him we’re bartering,” Jillian decided. “He won’t want charity, but he might be okay with trading some labor. Though I’m going to owe you more than a barn painting if you really take this on.”
Just let me take you on one date, a little voice in the back of his head offered. But Tripp knew better than to say the words out loud. He’d learned his lesson the hard way.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said lightly. “For now, let’s just get you and the girls settled and the house ready for winter.”
“Thank you,” she said.
There was warmth in her green eyes that he hadn’t seen there since…before. He willed himself not to take it as a sign that she might be feeling a little of the same interest that he was.
His pulse throbbed in his ears, and he had to look away from her.
Maybe he hadn’t really learned his lesson after all.
It would probably help to let go of the past if he wasn’t standing in the middle of it with her. How was he supposed to stop thinking about it when they were both right here in the same high school where he’d fallen for her?
“It’s my pleasure,” he told her, his voice more of a growl than he intended.
She nodded, that warmth still in her eyes.
“I’ll just put this back then,” he said, showing her the roll of tape before hurrying off to the supply room.
When he got there, he couldn’t help but notice her influence. Now that he was paying attention, it was clear to him that Jillian had made her mark on the formerly untidy space.
She used to keep her play script in a three-ring binder with rainbows of color-coded stickies and beautifully handwritten notes on every page.
In an instant, she could calmly identify every lighting cue, every detail of blocking, every scene change, all with just a glance at that binder.
He couldn’t imagine there being a more organized stage manager even on Broadway.
Jillian had put that same attention on the infirmary supply room. Each shelf was neatly labeled, with rows of corresponding items. And the simpler items that she would need every day were located closest to the door, and probably eye-level for her, though Tripp had to bend a bit to read the labels.
Wherever she goes, she makes it a better place, he thought to himself as he carefully placed the roll of tape with the others.
All he wanted was to go right back to her office and ask her about her life—to learn everything that had happened since the last time they’d really talked.
But with the tape returned, he had no more excuses, so he headed down the hallway, figuring he’d see her again the next time one of his players needed to be patched up, which wouldn’t be long with the way these kids played.
It was probably for the best anyway, since the more he was around her, the harder it was to keep his feelings to himself. And if he couldn’t do that, he was in trouble.
On his way to his truck, it occurred to Tripp that once he was working on the house, he’d be seeing Jillian just about every day.
And even though the idea excited him, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d just made a huge mistake.