22. Tripp
Chapter 22
Tripp
H oward’s home office is straight out of a country club. It’s all mahogany, leather, and dark evergreen, with a large double window stretching out behind a stately desk. I step through the French doors onto the green plaid rug, my feet sinking on the plush fabric. One wall is covered in floor to ceiling wood shelves, but the rest are a textured evergreen color. I cross in front of the shelves taking in the leather-bound books, most pertaining to the study of law. Behind me is a seating area of leather club chairs arranged in the center of the room. And beside them, a bar cart holds crystal glasses sparkling in the sun streaming through the windows.
“Tripp.” Howard enters the room, immediately crossing to the bar cart and lifting a decanter of dark, caramel liquid. Pouring two fingers into a glass, he holds it out to me. “My wife says you asked to speak with me in private. What’s on your mind, son?” He pours himself a glass as well and takes a seat in a club chair, motioning for me to do the same.
I sit across from him, taking a sip before I begin. It burns in the best way; Howard didn’t pour us the cheap stuff this afternoon.
“It’s about your new associate, Reid Delaney. What’s your procedure for vetting candidates?” I start.
“I spoke with his last place of employment, asked all my typical questions. Ran my background check, he has no charges against him. By all accounts, he came across with flying colors. What’s going on?”
“His last place of employment lied to you, then. He has a history of aggression towards women.” I hand Howard the copies of statements from both women that were never followed through on. Creasing his brow, he studies them quickly.
“What made you investigate this? Is this related to you coming by this morning with my daughter?”
I stiffen. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of speculation in his tone. I knew I was pushing it, showing up with her at morning light.
“He is one of my persons of interest. Reid has made multiple advances towards her, once right before the store was hit, once last night. And after she turned him down, he reacted rather poorly.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?” Howard whispers.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and sigh. “Because sir. She doesn’t want you to worry. With your… health.” I may be overstepping now. Actually, I know I am. And I just broke Ivy’s trust by admitting my knowledge of his heart attack.
“You know?” he asks carefully, eyes drifting over to the doorway.
I rise, crossing the room to close the doors. Returning to my seat, I admit, “I know. Ivy told me about the heart attack. But she hasn’t shared it with anyone else, and I haven’t shared it, either. Wes is still unaware.”
Howard nods, regret flooding his eyes. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in my lies. I appreciate you keeping this between us.”
“Of course, sir. And if you don’t mind my asking—how are you doing?”
“I’m well, there’s no need for her to try to shield me from stress. My sweet girl.” He shakes his head, taking a long drink. “And as for Reid, he’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“Can you do that?”
“There is a morality clause in all contracts signed for my practice. This written statement that he put hands on the fellow associate at his last firm is concrete enough to breach that clause.”
I take another drink, mostly satisfied by his intentions. “I do have one concern though; he’ll blame Ivy for losing his job. This could get worse for her.”
“You haven’t let anything happen to her thus far. You’ve taken care of her better than I have. I trust you, son. Please, do me a favor and watch out for her a bit longer?”
With a nod, I attempt to stifle the eagerness rising in my chest. Looks like I have a new excuse to stay close to my little Sherlock.
Ivy
Placing the last pumpkin in its place, I take a step back to admire my work. Catsby bounds out the door, eager to investigate the new additions to his space as well. With a flick of his tail, he rises, placing his front two paws up on a pumpkin and sniffing.
“You have a weird cat,” Wes remarks from his spot at the curb.
“He must approve before we can call this done,” I reply as the feline moves on the newest mums.
It had taken little effort to convince my brother to swing through a garden center after the farm and collect the last of their mum stock, despite the fact I already had two in pots on my front step. Maybe he really did miss me after all.
We watch Catsby curl up against one of the pumpkins at the bottom of a stack, clearly satisfied. “Looks good to him, looks good to me. Ready to head back? I’m hungry.”
I nod in response, wiping my hands together to brush the dirt from them. Before climbing back into the SUV, I do a quick scan up and down the street. There is an unreasonable hope within me that maybe a certain sheriff could pass by on his way to the café for an early dinner.
“Ready?” he repeats, now from the driver’s seat.
It’s not a long drive back to our parents’ house, and we spend the majority of it bickering over what to listen to. It’s familiar, easy. And I have to imagine that even if he knew everything happening between me and his best friend, we’d be able to get back to this place. This ease that we always find, despite his constant absences.
Arriving, I follow him inside to find our mother already hard at work cooking. She looks over her shoulder and smiles warmly. “Perfect timing, I was about to call you two home. Go wash up, we can eat soon.”
“It’s a little early for dinner, what about Dad?” I ask, watching Wes reach for a roll from the full basket on the island.
“He’s home,” she replies. “And you two have probably consumed nothing more than waffles and slushies today.”
“You’ve got us there.” The words are jumbled around the roll he’s inhaling.
“Right, so go wash up. Especially you, Ivy.” Her gaze lands on the remaining dirt I carried inside with me. On my hands, the sleeves of my sweater.
Doing as I’m told; I turn into the hallway that leads to the half bath. I’m opening the bathroom door when a hand reaches out and pulls me backward.
A gasp escapes me as I fall against a hard chest, strong arms wrapping around me from behind. “Hey, you,” a familiar voice whispers, lips in my hair.
Spinning in his embrace, I smile broadly up at Tripp and interlock my fingers around his neck. “You’re here,” I whisper gleefully.
“I promised I would be back.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, causing a surge of excitement to rush through me. My family could easily step into this hall. And yet, I don’t pull away. Being back in his arms, I feel as if I belong here.
“Did everything go smoothly?” I ask.
“I’m happy, considering the circumstances.”
“What happened?” I drag my hands down his chest and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Why don’t we talk about that later?” he counters.
I smile, noticing the glint in his eyes. “Hm, what did you want to do now?”
“This.” Tripp lifts his hand to hook a finger under my chin and pull my face up to him. He brushes a soft kiss against my lips first, testing. When I kiss him back, he intensifies it, sending shivers through me.
Holding me against the wall, his hands drag across my body as his mouth moves over mine. When he tugs on my lip, a faint whimper escapes me. It’s enough to make him pull back, and sigh.
“We shouldn’t be pushing our luck,” he murmurs, dropping his forehead to rest against mine. “I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”
I smile at his admission, but he’s right. Even if someone hadn’t seen us, they could have easily heard me. I wash my hands, taking a few moments to settle my breathing.
“Dinner!” My mother’s voice carries through the house. That’s our cue. Pressing his hand to the small of my back, Tripp starts me toward the kitchen. Before we round the corner into the room though, he drops his hands and puts a step of distance between us. A hint of disappointment hovers at the edge of my heart. Will there ever be a day when we can walk into a room holding hands or I can kiss him without hiding?
“Oh good, you found Tripp.” My mother smiles at us as we step into the kitchen. Studying her closely, considering the new information from our conversation this morning, I can now notice a mischievous air to her smile. Had it been there all along?
My family is already seated at the island, all three in the stools down the long edge. That leaves two remaining seats together around the short side. It’s enough privacy for Tripp to slide his hand onto my knee and give it a squeeze. I smile down at the empty plate in front of me, this can be enough for now.
We pass salad, pasta, and roasted chicken around the table. When the bowl with the heavenly garlic butter smell of noodles is passed to me, I eagerly scoop out a helping.
“Well now that we are all together, I want to say something,” my father starts, clearing his throat. I set the serving bowl back down and glance at everyone around the kitchen. Is he going to tell Wes about the heart attack? “Tripp and I had a nice talk before you arrived home,” he continues.
I look over at Tripp, my heart fluttering nervously. Did he talk about me? Us? We haven’t even talked about what is happening between us. But he shakes his head subtly, running his palm up and down my thigh to soothe me.
“I want to apologize to Ivy.”
My head snaps around to look at my father once again. “Apologize to me?”
“Tripp informed me of Reid’s behavior. I’m sorry I exposed you to that, and I’m sorry you couldn’t tell me.”
“Oh, Dad no?—”
“No,” he holds up his hand. “No, Sweetie. I need you to know that I will do better. And first thing tomorrow, he will be gone.”
“What the fuck happened?” Wes looks between us all wildly. “Did he do something to you?”
“He might be the person behind the break-ins,” Tripp explains, tightening his grip on my leg. If he was soothing me before, now it seems he’s using me to ground himself. I reach over and lay my hand atop his. He flips his hand over in an instant and laces our fingers together.
“How can you let him go based on speculation?” I ask.
“Tripp did some good work. He found multiple accusations against Reid in the past that had been brushed under the rug. It’s enough, thanks to this paper trail. And for fear of retaliation, I’ve asked him to stick by your side for a while longer. Let him, please?”
“I guess I can do that,” I agree, hiding my smile behind a forkful of pasta. Glancing sideways, I watch a smile catch the corner of Tripp’s mouth too. We seem to have stumbled into a tremendous silver lining.
The remainder of the meal feels like the slow weekends from when we were younger. During those off season days when there were no sporting events for Wes and Tripp, the five of us would stay huddled around this island long after the meal was done.
We talk about what we need to do and plans for getting my apartment back together. And we talk about nothing at all, reminiscing and joking. Throughout dinner, Tripp drops his hand back to my leg, his thumb dragging absently along my thigh. Each time, butterflies erupt within me. Each time, I allow hope to play its fickle game with my heart. Hope that this is just the beginning.
“I don’t want to disrupt your night, but Ivy—is there any chance you can come into the station with me? We never did get anything in writing about Reid’s behavior. I think it might help.”
Excusing ourselves, we rise from our seats and slip out into the early evening. Once we round the corner onto the driveway, his hand slides around me and pulls me close. Leaning in, he admits, “I don’t need you to go to the station. But since I have you, can I take you on that date?” There’s a spark of delight in his eyes that ignites my core. Tripp Forester is taking me on a date.
“I’d love that.” My words feel like an understatement. But how does someone respond when they’ve been imagining this moment for half their life?
He checks his watch and says, “We should be perfect with time.”
“You already have something in mind? When did you plan this?”
He doesn’t respond, of course. Instead, he flashes me a wink that sends a shiver down my spine and reaches out to open the passenger door. But this is Tripp, I’m not sure why I was surprised that he was already a few steps ahead.
“Are you ready, Sherlock?” He tilts down as I climb into the seat, one hand on the door frame above me, the other reaching for one of my curls.
“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” I reply.