7. Tripp
Chapter 7
Tripp
S eeing Ivy’s text had sent white hot rage shooting through me. But it had been mingled with something else, something more difficult to pinpoint. I’d broken out into a run the instant I saw it. Panic, the feeling was raw panic.
Since that moment, I’ve allowed myself to act based on my emotions. And that includes the desperate need to have Ivy within reach. It’s selfish, my motive for being the one here with her. I have to be the one to ensure she’s okay, it’s the only way to settle the unfettered fear that I felt with her words.
“Tripp?” Ivy whispers beside me.
Without thinking, I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder. “Yes?”
“You’re very… quiet.”
I swallow and slowly nod. “You were there. They got so close to you.”
They got so close to hurting her. That was the longest drive of my life, from the sheriff department to her shop. Thoughts bombarded me with worst case scenarios the whole way.
Arriving to see her unharmed physically had been the first wave of relief. Holding her in my arms and feeling her settle into me, that was the second.
“Thanks for checking your phone.”
“I saw your name,” I admit. It’s the only reason I opened the text in the middle of reviewing reports.
I’ve been letting down the town since I took this position, it seems. But now I’ve failed the one person whose safety means more to me than anyone else.
I’m not sure when it started. Maybe it was in high school when she begged to play lacrosse in the yard with Wes and me. When he finally agreed, she had taken a ball to the shoulder. He hadn’t gone easy on her, and she had yelped in pain. I never wanted to hear the sound again.
Or maybe it was when she was in college and her boyfriend had cheated on her right before her birthday. I was out for blood when she called Wes, sobbing through the phone. We’d jumped in the car immediately and he had to calm me down our whole drive to the campus.
More than likely, it was earlier than all of that, though. It was probably that first day Wes had brought me to their house after practice. I remember how it felt, standing in their kitchen when she came bounding through the door. She smiled so sweetly at me and my mind had gone blank.
Over the years, I have always noticed things about Ivy that are like secrets one has to uncover. And despite the fact that I’m eager to discover every detail about her, she’s unattainable. The way it would betray Wes and their parents if I tried something… but that doesn’t mean I can’t do everything in my power to take care of her.
The vandal had made a grave mistake, targeting her. Any conviction that was waning within me now burns fiery hot. They won’t get away with causing that sweet smile to slip.
Ivy
Just a few blocks up from The Open Book, my apartment is located in a converted, three-story brownstone, each floor being a separate dwelling. Riding the short distance home, it’s as if my brain has short circuited. I’m having an impossible time forming a coherent thought other than someone broke into my store, and Tripp is sleeping at my place . I’m not sure which one is more difficult to believe.
“Have you talked to your family?” he asks, peering over at me, concern still etched on his face.
“I’m just… not ready to deal with it all. And you know my dad and brother will want to spring into action. I’ll call them tomorrow before they drive by the smashed door and freak out.”
“That’s fine, you know. You don’t owe anyone anything. Just tell me what you need.”
“I’m not even sure what I need,” I admit quietly. “I think I’m in shock?”
“And that’s one of the reasons I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”
A question sits on the tip of my tongue as he parks in front of my building. I want to know all the reasons, butterflies stirring within me.
The front door of the brownstone leads to a lobby with emerald and white checkerboard floor tiles. Wainscotting runs the walls, and a brass chandelier hangs above the open staircase. I had fallen in love the minute I saw the listing.
We climb the stairs to my place on the second floor, my brain frantically trying to remember if Tripp has ever been here besides the day I moved in. My brother was on another continent, and my dad was not fit to move anything. Of course, no one knew that detail about my dad, but Tripp and Hayden had agreed in an instant when my mom elicited their help.
Anticipation fills my stomach as I unlock the wood paneled door. Pushing it open, I lead Tripp over the threshold and into the living space. A fireplace sits across from the doorway, beside it a large bay window and bench tucked into the nook. There is a stack of books on the end table beside the couch. And on the coffee table. And on the kitchen counter.
Tripp walks to the bay window and looks out, his eyes sweeping up and down the street. He turns, taking in the fireplace filled with varying sized ivory pillar candles and then moves to the end table, studying the books atop it. It’s as if he’s cataloging my apartment, the same way he took in the details at the shop earlier tonight.
“I um… don’t have a guest room,” I say, looking over my shoulder down the short hall to my bedroom and bathroom.
He lifts his gaze from the book he’s picked up, his warm eyes settling on me. “I’m good with the couch.”
“Are you sure?—”
“Someone came after you. And if I haven’t been able to catch them, I’m sure as hell not leaving you alone tonight.” His voice is clipped and it’s clear this isn’t up for debate. Not that I would actually want him to leave.
“You know this isn’t your fault, right?”
The look Tripp gives me carries guilt and frustration. It’s clear that he very much blames himself, and it breaks my heart.
I cross the room and take a seat on the couch, pulling my legs up under his jacket I’m still wearing. “Did you want to take my statement?” I ask, hoping it helps his need to do something.
“Are you sure you’re ready? I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?” he asks cautiously, coming over to sit on the coffee table before me.
“It’s different talking with you,” I admit, my heart stuttering from saying it aloud. “Plus, we can just get it over with.”
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. Phone in hand, he prepares to record. “You’re sure?”
“I am, what should I say?”
“Just tell me what happened as you remember it. Any details you can,” he replies softly.
I nod, taking myself back about an hour earlier. “Okay, well I was back in my office working on ordering when I heard a breaking noise. I wasn’t sure what it was at first, so I paused my music and that’s when I heard a door open. I figured the breaking was someone going through the glass to unlock the door at that point.”
Tripp sets his mouth in a hard line as I talk, his jaw jumping with tension.
“So, then I grabbed my phone and hid under my desk. I started to hear breaking noises. A lot of them, all over the store… as you saw. And I texted you from under there.”
“I’m really glad you thought of me,” he murmurs.
“Dispatch would have taken forever to get to you, and I would have had to talk. He could have heard me. And I knew, somehow … I trust you. There was no one else that even came to mind.”
Tripp reaches out and rests his hand on my knee. Even through his jacket I can feel the warmth of his touch. “I’m really glad,” he repeats, warmth in his eyes as well. Then he shifts up, a realization coming over him. “You said he. Did you see who broke in? More importantly, did he see you?”
“No, no. I don’t think he knew I was there. He did come into my office, at the end there. You saw my computer. Anyway, he was standing over my desk when he heard Millie’s sirens. I heard him cuss and it was very clearly a male voice. Then he took off.”
“He was standing over you?” Tripp’s voice is a near whisper.
“He was,” I reply, shivering at the memory of the intruder’s closeness. “Millie really had amazing timing. One more second…”
Tripp turns off the recording and moves to sit beside me, his weight on the cushion tilting my body towards him. He wraps an arm around me and tucks me into his side. It has an immediate calming effect, pulling me from the terrifying memory back into the present, and the safety of his embrace.
I want to stay like this all night. But a rapid knock at the door shakes the spell his touch has me under. I move to open it as he rises and gives himself a clear view of whoever will be on the other side. I don’t have to open the door to find out their identity, though.
“Ivy?” a high-pitched voice rings out.
“She’s here, right? I mean she has to be.”
“Do you think she knows?”
I fling the door open to reveal Stevie, Poppy, and Wren. They lunge at me in unison, coming to a stop only when they notice the sheriff in the room. Poppy’s head jumps from him to me, and back again. She’s about to snap her neck from the rapid movement.
Wren looks as if she’s about to burst as well, her eyes bulging at the suede jacket still wrapped around me. Stevie, to her credit, only smiles innocently. But I know her well enough to know what the look actually means.
“Hi Tripp,” Poppy greets him eagerly.
Leaning against the fireplace mantle, he offers a smile in return. “Evening, ladies.”
I pull my girls into the kitchen, desperate for any semblance of privacy for whatever is about to come out of their mouths.
“Tripp is here,” Wren whisper-shouts, looking over at him. He graciously picks a book up and moves to the bay window. I’d bet that he’s doing more listening than reading, but I appreciate the attempt at giving us space.
“Did he come to tell you about your shop? Wait, have you heard about it at all?” Stevie asks hurriedly.
“I was actually there when it happened?—"
“Oh my gosh!”
“You were there?”
“What happened? Did you see them?”
I shake my head, focusing on the last question. “I hid in my office.”
“That is terrifying. Are you okay?” Stevie asks, her eyes wide.
“I’m fine,” I reply, not in the mood to be emotional all over again. My friends give me a questioning look but don’t press the subject.
“If you were there,” Wren processes, “Tripp isn’t here to break the news.” All three of them look his way again, as if having forgotten about his presence. I couldn’t imagine being anything other than hyper aware of Tripp Forester.
“After getting everything wrapped up there, Tripp informed me that… he’s staying here tonight .”
“Oh my gosh,” Wren exclaims at full volume this time.
“ Quiet! ” My god, if Tripp hears them go on about this, I’ll be mortified.
They huddle closer to me, and I steal a glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s still “reading.” My friends look his way as well, and I can only imagine how obvious we look staring at him from the corner of the kitchen. Ducking her head so she’s nearly resting her forehead against mine, Wren drops the volume of her voice once again.
“Ivy, he is so worried about you that he wants to stay over. This is perfect.”
“Why would it be perfect?”
“This is not in his job description; he clearly cares so much for you. Look, you have been in love with that man for as long as you’ve known him. This is finally the time to do something about it!”
“Wren,” I scold, heat licking the back of my neck at her casual use of the word love with Tripp in ear shot. “No way. I can never do something about it. He’s only nice to me because of Wes. The rejection will be humiliating and heartbreaking. And then my family will pick him over me, and I’ll have to be adopted by one of your families for holidays and gatherings.”
“Okay right,” Poppy snorts, a grin spreading across her face. “That man is not here right now because of Wes.”
“Yes, agreed!”
“Every guy knows that a brother would be pissed his friend is having a sleepover with his little sister,” Stevie adds. “It’s like—in their bro code.”
“Bro code?” I snort. But even still, that nagging thrill of hope surges within me. I can’t fathom acting on my crush as Wren suggested, but maybe they’re right. He cares about me for me. Not because I’m his friend’s sister. He did mention having his reasons for being here, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out what those are.
“Well, we are going to get out of here. Immediately,” Poppy says, motioning for our friends to move to the door with her.
“Call us tomorrow. We are going to be here for you about everything,” Stevie instructs as Poppy maneuvers her around the kitchen counter.
Tripp glances up from the book when we come back into the room, a casual look on his face. I swear he just heard everything, but his expression gives nothing away.
“Tripp, we’re trusting you to take care of our girl tonight,” Poppy tells him, tone thick with innuendo. Wren pushes her towards the door with a smirk, clearly amused by the way they are mortifying me.
“Ivy knows I’d do anything for her,” he replies, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as they lock on me.
“ Oh my god ,” Wren mouths. Her back is turned to him, and she clutches at her chest in an exaggerated motion.
I hardly notice, though. Instead, I hold his gaze, his words hanging in the charged air between us.
Stevie moves to open the door, pulling Tripp from whatever was just passing through his mind. “But,” he continues, “I’m not one to take away from you having support from your friends. Why don’t you three stay over tonight and help our girl?”
Our girl . Poppy’s words feel so different coming from his lips. Crossing the room, Tripp places his hands on my shoulders. “Lock the door behind me and call if you need anything. I’ll be back in the morning to take you to the shop.”
Tucking a loose curl behind my ear, he gives me a quick hug and disappears out the door.
“Oh my god,” Wren repeats from behind me. I have no words, but hers are doing a good job of summing up how I feel about his affectionate behavior tonight.