19. Tripp
Chapter 19
Tripp
I don’t think I have ever been as furious in my life as I was the moment I set eyes on Ivy’s apartment. Listening to her crying my whole drive over was my own personal hell. A punishment I deserve for not catching this bastard sooner.
We get a bag packed and make our way through the building. Despite her request, I have every intention of heading to her family home. She’ll be safe with both parents and Wes there, and her safety is the only thing that matters. Not how much I want to stay with her. Not the fact that I want to take her to my place instead.
Beside me, Ivy is silent, her eyes cast down to the floor in defeat. It’s like a knife to the heart, seeing her like this once again. I reach over and take her hand in mine, lifting it up to my lips and kissing her softly.
“What are you going to do?” she asks me cautiously. “After you drop me off?”
I’m going to hunt down Reid and Jackson and put the screws to them. I’m going to make it clear that if it is one of them, they’ll regret making Ivy one of the targets. My cases against each are circumstantial at best, but it doesn’t mean I can’t put some fear into them.
The look in my eyes must say it all because I feel a squeeze of my hand and hear in a whisper, “Tell me you aren’t doing what I think you’re going to.”
“What would that be?” I ask casually.
“Defending my honor prematurely. I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”
“And if I do it all above board?”
“I’ll still worry about you,” she murmurs. I drag my lips against her knuckles as she adds, “But I guess you should probably know something then.”
“What’s that?”
“I saw Reid tonight.”
I come to a grinding halt in the lobby, trying, and failing, to keep an even look on my face. “Saw how?”
“I was at the café with the girls, and he came up to our table. He asked me to get drinks this weekend and when I said no…”
“When you said no?” I grit out. “I swear if he?—”
“When I said no, he made a comment about you, and me. He called me your dirty little secret. And then he told me I would come to him next time.”
“That fucking?—”
“Tripp.” She leans over and rests her other hand on my chest. “Don’t let him get you angry. I just, I thought it was weird that I hadn’t seen him since the party and then he appears like this. And a couple hours later my home is broken into.”
It certainly doesn’t feel like a coincidence. But why make the parting comment he did about her coming to him next? That sounds more like a guy who still thinks he’s going to get the girl. Not someone who’s going to trash her place in defeat.
“It was like they were looking for something,” I realize. “Your place wasn’t trashed, it was searched.”
“I noticed that he only had his car key, nothing else on the ring with it…”
Continuing out into the chilled evening, I consider this new information. I had been wondering why there was not a car key on the set left behind at The Open Book. But here it was, a car fob without a ring.
“Anything else you should tell me, Sherlock?”
A small laugh escapes Ivy at the nickname, and it’s enough to help take the edge off the tension within me. “No, nothing else.”
“Right, then let’s get you to your parents,” I say with far more resolve than I feel.
“Are you sure you won’t stay with me instead?”
“I wish I could, truly. But I have to?—”
We reach the passenger side door and Ivy slides between me and the Defender, holding her hand out to stop me. She plants her palm in the center of my chest, unyielding in her determination.
“ Please. Don’t leave me like this tonight. You might not be thinking straight. And I know you have a job to do, but tonight…”
I wrap my fingers around her wrist and bring her hand to the back of my neck. Taking a step closer, I gather her waist in my grip and hold her against me. Ivy curls her other hand around my arm and looks up at me with wide eyes.
“The last time I had you in this position, you told me not to take my hands off you. Why?”
Her lips part in surprise as she blinks up at me. “What does that have to do with this?”
“Why, Ivy?”
“The obvious reason,” she huffs. “I wanted you to keep going. I liked what we were doing.”
“Is that the only time you thought about that? With me?”
“Of course not,” she murmurs.
“Good, because it wasn’t for me either. I want you, Ivy. And I have for longer than I should admit. So, believe me when I tell you that I am thinking perfectly straight. I know exactly what my motivations are, and it’s about damn time I act on them.”
Ivy presses me towards her with the hand on my neck, rising up to meet my lips with hers. She kisses me with a gentle urgency, as sweet as I always imagined a kiss from her would be. But it’s more than sweet, there’s heat too. And I match her with my own consuming need.
When she opens further to me, I take the kiss deeper, desperate for every bit she’s giving me. My vengeance and anger from earlier fall away, leaving only this moment. Leaving only Ivy and the ember I’ve carried for her all this time, now an engulfing flame. I pour twelve years of need into this kiss, I let it spill over between us as I devour her.
She lets out a sweet little sigh against my lips and I know that I’ll never be able to turn back now. I hold her tighter against me, dragging a hand up to cup her jaw. Ivy leans her face against my palm, breaking the kiss and smiling up at me with a look that nearly brings me to my knees.
“Stay with me tonight,” she rasps.
I lean down for another kiss, unable to hide the smile stretching across my face as I press against her lips. “Honey, you have no idea how much I want to.”
“Then what’s stopping you? What can’t wait until morning?” She pauses to study my expression. And there’s so much hope in hers. The truth is, it probably can wait until the morning. But just as I start to relax, my mind flashes to the sadness that carried through the phone earlier.
“No one was hurt,” she insists. “It can wait.”
“I was hurt.” My voice cracks with the admission. “Hearing the pain in your voice when you called me, seeing you cry. It hurts me.” I trail a thumb along her pillowy lips, allowing the warmth of her skin to keep me in the present.
Dragging her own hand down to cup my jaw, she says, “This isn’t you. Impulsive and running out for vengeance. I made you worry, so I know this is unfair. But I’m asking you not to worry me tonight. And I will worry if you drop me at my parents to take off into the night.”
My chest tightens, her words hitting their target and sinking into my core. The last thing I want is to cause her undue stress tonight. Or ever. “I hate the fact that someone is doing this to you.”
“I know.”
“But I also hate the idea of adding to your worry,” I concede. “How do you feel about going to my place tonight instead?”
Ivy
Whispers of fog are setting in around the classic gray shingled cottage, and I try to remember the last time I was here. It’s been years, certainly. Not since Tripp inherited it from his grandfather. I wonder how it’s changed since then, if it has changed. We pull into the sandy drive, the packed down grains sturdy under foot as we step out and cross over to the black stained door. All around, beachgrass sways rhythmically in the ocean breeze. It’s a cozy, coastal dream.
And when he leads me inside, I’m greeted by the most charming fisherman’s cottage I’ve ever seen. The wooden floors creak beneath us—clearly the original planks—causing a smile of appreciation to grace my cheeks. Then there is the exposed beam ceiling, as aged as the floors below.
The first room we step into is a comfortably sized living space, with a cobblestone fireplace in the corner and a galley kitchen off the back of it. The walls are painted a pale blue, similar to the color of the sea just out the window. Down one wall, driftwood shelves house framed photographs, a handful of books, and various fishing tackle. I can feel Tripp in each perfect detail.
“Is that?” I freeze, my eyes settling on a single photo. One that stands out from the various images of him and his grandfather holding up fish out on the water.
“You,” Tripp confirms, coming to a stop at my side.
The way the sunset is glowing, it’s impossible to tell that’s me by looking at the image. But I remember that day, it was Wes and Tripp’s high school graduation. My parents had taken us out to The Ocean Club up the coast, and the sky had put on a show with the sunset that night, as if joining in the celebration.
I stare at the image in awe as a hand gently brushes my hair back over my shoulder. Then his lips warm my temple. “It was a really nice sunset,” he murmurs against my skin. “And… it always made me smile, having proof that I got to share important moments with you.”
Turning, I drag my hands up his flannel shirt and pull on his collar. Tripp appeases me, leaning down and bringing his mouth to mine. There’s a hunger in his kiss, as if the mention of this picture has stirred years of longing in him. His arms wrap around me, hands pressing me to him, he consumes me. And I want to be consumed by Tripp Forester, entirely. Always.
A faint whimper escapes me as his fingers curl around the back of my head. “ Ivy ,” he moans in response, still pressed to my lips.
“Thank you for staying with me,” I reply, pulling back to look into his eyes. There’s so much warmth looking back at me, and I feel as if I’ll melt right here in his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock.”
I want more, I want to feel closer still. And from the way his hand plays with the neckline of my sweater, brushing it to the side to expose more of my collarbone, my shoulder, I get the sense he feels the same. Dropping a kiss to my bare shoulder, he sends electricity rushing out along my skin. When I move to start unbuttoning his shirt, his hand catches my wrist. With a sigh, he says, “I want to take you on a date.”
Blinking back at him in surprise, it takes a moment for his words to sink in. “A date.”
“Yes. I want to take you out, the right way.”
I can read between the lines when he says the right way . Nothing more than this will happen between us tonight. He’s too chivalrous, and my heart swells at this fact about him.
“Okay,” I agree. “Yes, I would love that.”
“Okay.” He pulls my sweater back to its rightful place and nods. “Okay. Are you hungry? Tired? My bedroom is yours tonight. If you want to?—”
“I’m not kicking you out of your room, Tripp.” I hope he can read between the lines too. Even if he wants to do things the way he feels is right, I want to stay as close as possible to him. “And maybe we start with food.”
“Pizza?”
I nod in agreement, perching on the arm of the couch beside me as he moves to the fireplace. Pulling logs from the stack between the hearth and front door, he makes quick work to get a flame going. The only source of heat I want though is from being in his embrace.
He sits on the couch and withdraws his phone next. Raising it to his ear, I hear the greeting from the pizzeria through the line just as he reaches out and yanks me down onto his lap. With his arm wrapped around my waist, he draws swirls against my thigh as he orders. Maybe pizza in front of the fire can count as that date. It sounds like the perfect date to me. Anything with Tripp would be, though.