Until Autumn Falls Page 8

  “She seems to like me as much as I like her.” Tripp kicked off his boots. “It’s kind of strange.”

  “Come on.” Jared sounded disgusted.

  “Come on, what?” Tripp paused and turned back to his cousin.

  “Why wouldn’t she like you?”

  Tripp had never really suffered from poor self-esteem. He wasn’t sure why he was so self-conscious when it came to women. Especially beautiful, successful women like Hilary.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had a lot of success with women, that’s all.”

  “You haven’t even tried.”

  “I’ve been busy with—”

  “I know, I know.” Jared pulled the potato pot off the burner and drained the water. Steam puffed up, causing him to lean away. “You started a business from nothing. You turned a profit after only two years, and you’re set to have your biggest year yet. Six figures big, Tripp. Do you know how much money that is?”

  Tripp shrugged. “Don’t really pay attention to the money. That’s why I hired you.”

  “Exactly. And I’m telling you that if the women in town knew how successful you were, they’d all be down at the dock every morning to see if they could catch you.”

  Tripp scoffed and waved Jared’s words away. “Women need more than money.”

  “Absolutely they do.” Jared grabbed a handful of ice and dropped it onto the still-steaming potatoes. Another handful clattered into the sink. “But it helps.”

  “Hilary won’t care about the money.”

  “I’m sure she won’t.”

  “Then why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you’re more interesting than you think you are.” Jared came around the counter. “At the risk of being all sentimental and whatever, you’re a great guy.”

  “Great guys don’t always win.”

  “Who else is competing for Hilary?”

  “No one that I know of.”

  “Then there’s no contest.” Jared turned back to his food prep. “You’re smart and resourceful, determined and dedicated. Once Hilary knows all that, you’ll have yourself a fiancée too.”

  Tripp felt like Jared was trying to squeeze his heart into a tiny box. “I don’t need a fiancée.”

  “Sure you do.” Jared grinned at him. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  * * * *

  Tripp waited on Polly’s front porch, his muscles jumping as the seconds ticked by. According to Polly, Millie and Sophie had arrived ten minutes ago. Jared had been gone when Tripp came out of his bedroom. Tripp had pulled into his sister’s driveway right at one o’clock so he wouldn’t have to be alone for long.

  But another ten minutes had passed, and Hilary still hadn’t shown up. He would not text her. He would not. She’d said she was coming, and she knew where Polly lived. Maybe inviting her to a family function this soon had been a mistake.

  His phone rang, and he almost ripped off his pocket in his haste to get it out. “Hey, Hil,” he breathed when he answered.

  “Hey.” She exhaled, her frustration obvious.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My car broke down, and I need a ride.”

  Tripp was already moving toward his truck. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “It’s just a flat tire. I’m down in the redwoods. Mill Creek campground?”

  “Sure, I can find that.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just came out here to think, and I must’ve driven over something.”

  “It’s fine, Hil. Let me map it, and I’ll see you soon.” He hung up and opened his map app. From Polly’s, Mill Creek campground was a twenty-five-minute drive. He texted his sister about Hilary’s dilemma and headed south, feeling anxious and heroic at the same time.

  As he bumped over the dirt road, scanning the campsites for Hilary’s car, he understood why Hilary loved the redwoods so much. They seemed so huge, so all-encompassing. He felt the same way about the ocean. The vastness of it reminded him of his own small place in this world.

  He saw a flash of red through the trees and continued around the loop to Hilary’s convertible. He pulled alongside her car and got out of his truck, but he didn’t see her. “Hil?” he called.

  Shuffling sounded through the trees, and Hilary stepped out from behind a wide redwood trunk several yards from the campsite. A smile broke onto her face, and Tripp found himself striding toward her. Almost running.

  He coached himself to go slower, remove the worry from his core, act natural.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said when they were just a few paces apart.

  “Of course.” He swept her into his arms and breathed against the hollow of her neck. “Do you have a spare?” He stepped back, captured her hand in his, and started back toward her car.

  “If I did, I would’ve changed it.”

  “You can change a tire?”

  She pushed him away playfully. “I have some skills. My dad made sure I knew how to change a tire.”

  “Better not tell him about this then.”

  “He would be so disappointed.” Her step slowed. “But.” Her shuddering intake of breath alerted him to her distress. She tilted her head back and looked up into the swaying trees.

  “But what?” He didn’t want to push her, but he knew she had things she needed to tell him before they could advance their relationship.

  “I don’t actually talk to my parents.” She turned toward him, raw emotion swimming in her eyes. “They don’t know where I am.”

  Tripp tried to make sense of her words. “I don’t understand.”

  “They know I’m safe. That’s all they can know.”

  His gaze traveled to her left collarbone, which she’d hidden beneath that blasted hoodie. The bright green enhanced the color of her eyes, the dark streaks in her hair. He ran his fingers through her hair and leaned down to kiss her.

  She melted into him, and he held her close, the kiss sweet and slow. Tripp poured all his feelings into his touch, hoping she could feel it, know what he couldn’t seem to say. He pulled away and smiled softly at her. “So you left Miami…involuntarily.”

  “In the middle of the night, actually.” She started toward the car again, her steps casual, unhurried. “My parents shipped some clothes to a hotel in New Orleans. Remember how I said my dad manages a hotel in Miami? Well, they ship things to each other all the time, and my parents could hide a shipment to me without suspicion.”

  Tripp wanted to ask, “Suspicion from who?” but he kept his mouth shut and his fingers tight in hers.

  “They sent a few more things to a motel in Kansas City.” Her voice got swallowed by all the leaves, the towering trees, the wide sky above them. Tripp absorbed them right into his heart, his chest hurting from the pain in her past.

  “I got one last package from them in Phoenix. I haven’t heard from them since.”

  “How do they know you’re safe then?”

  “We worked out a system before I left. In each shipment, they’d include the address of the next hotel where they’d send something. When I didn’t need anything else, when I was safe, I’d have the last hotel call my dad’s hotel and say that the package hadn’t been picked up.” She sighed. “I never did go to Seattle. In fact, that’s why I can’t go to Seattle.”

  Tripp didn’t know what to say. Dozens of questions came to mind, but he knew now wasn’t the right time to ask them. “I don’t like Seattle much myself.”

  Thankfully, Hilary tipped her head back and laughed. Her eyes fell closed, and Tripp took the few seconds to search her skin. A flash of that angry red mark registered in his eyesight. He yanked his eyes away when Hilary glanced at him.

  “Thanks for coming to rescue me.”

  “I don’t think you need rescuing,” he said. “From what I’ve seen and heard, you can take care of yourself.”

  She leaned into him, her eyes trained on the ground. “I can, yes. Sometimes it’s just nice not to have to.”

  Chapter Twelve:

&n
bsp; A corner of Hilary’s heart felt so free. After telling Tripp a little bit about how she’d come to Redwood Bay, after his sensitive reaction, she felt like she could trust him with a lot more.

  As he drove to Polly’s house, she told herself to slow down. He wouldn’t be able to absorb everything about her past boyfriend, her assault, her journey toward recovery all at once. It would be like trying to drink from a fire hose.

  He pulled into the driveway, and Hilary’s nerves sent a jolt through her body. She’d been to Polly’s house several times, but never for a family function. She ran her hands down her sides, wishing she could take off the stifling sweatshirt.

  She probably could. She knew everyone here, though maybe not as well as she’d like. After all, Jared had just come back into town and she’d only met him a handful of times. But he’d cracked Millie Larson’s hard exterior, and that had to count for something.

  “I’m so nervous,” she admitted as Tripp held her hand with one of his and pushed open the back fence with the other.

  He paused, halfway in the backyard and halfway out. “Don’t be nervous,” he said in a low voice, the sound barely reaching her ears. “They’ll like you as much as I do.”

  Before she could respond, someone pulled on the gate. Sophie stood there, one hand on her hip and one resting on her baby bump. “What are you guys doing lurking in the doorway?”

  “There’s no door here,” Tripp said, the equivalent to rolling his eyes, and stepped further into the yard.

  “Hey, Sophie.” Hilary dropped Tripp’s hand so she could give her friend a quick hug. “How are you feeling?”

  “The baby’s not due until November. I’m doing great.” Sophie and Hilary moved toward the deck, where Polly sat in a rocking chair while Millie and Jared stood at the grill. Tripp had disappeared inside the house, and she wished she didn’t feel so abandoned.

  “Surviving without Mont?” Hilary picked up a deviled egg from the picnic table, but couldn’t bring herself to eat it.

  A look of sadness washed across Sophie’s features, and Hilary regretted asking. “Never mind. I—”

  “I’m adjusting,” Sophie said, moving the plastic silverware an inch and the napkins less than a centimeter. “He feels bad he’s missing all the baby stuff.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  “I find out in a couple of weeks.”

  Tripp opened the sliding glass door and stepped to Hilary’s side. He handed her a bottle of mango lemonade, and the glass chilled her fingers. “Thanks.”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple and asked Sophie if she wanted a boy or a girl.

  “I have no idea.” Sophie laughed. “I never even saw myself as married, let alone a mother.”

  Hilary put her deviled egg in the trash and opened the lemonade. She suddenly needed to drink, anything to occupy her mouth so she wouldn’t have to participate in the conversation. She didn’t want to talk about her teenage fantasies of having a houseful of children. Her brother had been five years older than her, and she often felt like an only child, alone in a huge city with busy, working parents. The isolation had only grown, especially once her grandmother had passed away, and she’d dreamed of having a half-dozen children to laugh with, play with, fill the silence in her life with.

  She suspected that was one reason she’d been so drawn to Dante. Nothing was ever silent with him. Thankfully, she hadn’t gotten pregnant during their year-long relationship.

  And his attack on her had made it so she could never get pregnant.

  The familiar wash of loss and disappointment hit her like a wall of cold water. When Sophie asked, “So Hilary, do you want kids?” she wanted to bolt. Even took a step toward the back gate.

  Tripp swept into her personal space and laced his fingers through hers, anchoring her and keeping her there. “Sophie,” he admonished. He flicked his eyes to Hilary and must’ve seen the pure panic she felt parading through her.

  Sophie must have seen it too. “Sorry.” She lifted her hands, palms forward. “I’m going to go stick my nose somewhere else.” She made a hasty escape to her brother’s side.

  “Sorry about that,” Tripp whispered into her hair. “Come sit by Polly. She won’t ask you anything embarrassing.”

  “Sophie’s fine,” Hilary managed to say. “It’s a normal thing to ask.”

  Tripp guided her to a bench near Polly. “Did you get the funeral arrangements done?” he asked.

  As he conversed with his sister, and Jared wrapped his arm around Millie’s waist and kissed her with a laugh, and Sophie made sure everything was ready to eat, Hilary realized how much she’d lost when she’d lost her family.

  She hadn’t belonged to something like this in a long, long time. Sure, Redwood Bay possessed a sense of community that had drawn her in, but she’d always held herself back from truly embracing it. She kept herself inside her safe cage, and she had good reasons.

  But now, sitting with Tripp and his family, she wanted to open the doors and let herself out.

  “Lunch is ready,” Jared announced, and Hilary threw herself into the conversations about the co-op, the Summerfest, the upcoming Fourth of July celebrations. She listened to Jared talk about body surfing before sunrise, and Sophie explain the scenery of Spain, and Polly and Tripp argue about whether or not the potato salad needed actual dill weed in it or if the pickle juice was enough.

  Hilary basked in their energy, soaked it up, and fed off of it. She wanted to be with these people every weekend, share her life with them the way they shared with each other. The good, the bad—the scars.

  Fear, absolute terror, made her stand. “Excuse me.” She twisted and practically ran into Polly’s house.

  “Where’s she going?” she heard Jared ask because she didn’t slow to close the sliding glass door. Simply hurried down the hall to the bathroom, where she locked herself inside.

  Several seconds passed while she looked at herself—zipped all the way up—in the mirror. She lowered her zipper and examined at her scars, and she knew with absolute certainty that if she wanted to belong to this family—and she did; she did more than anything—she was going to have to show Tripp her scars.

  Tell him everything.

  “Hilary?” Tripp’s voice came through the door. “You okay in there?”

  She pulled the zipper back up and opened the door. “Fine.” She ran her hands through her hair and tried on a smile. “I’m fine.”

  “We can go if you want.”

  “Do you normally leave this early?”

  “I leave whenever I’m tired of being here.” He glanced down the hall. “And they’ll understand. They always do.” He inched closer to her. “I have that tour group tomorrow, and I won’t get to see you for several days. I kinda want to spend some time alone with you.”

  A smile sprang to her lips. “That sounds nice.”

  She returned to the backyard, wishing the conversation didn’t dim to silence upon her reappearance. She ignored the awkwardness and gave Jared a hug and thanked him for the delicious food.

  After she’d hugged everyone—with Polly pulling her close and saying, “You better call me later”—she tucked her hand in Tripp’s and escaped through the gate.

  He held open her door and she waited until he’d rounded the truck and settled behind the wheel to say, “So they think I’m crazy.” She buckled herself in instead of sliding across the seat and sitting next to him.

  “No, they don’t.”

  “I did race away from the table for seemingly no reason.” She fixed her gaze on him to see his reaction.

  He pulled over and faced her. “I get that this is new.” He swallowed hard and the show of his nerves was somehow endearing to her. “You don’t have to tell me everything at once.” His eyes flickered to her collar. “Want to go to the beach?”

  “The beach?”

  He peered through the windshield. “Yeah, it’s warm today, and there’s nothing I want more than to lie with you on the hot sand.” He grinned at her. �
��Maybe see what kind of swimming suit you own.”

  “Ah, you just want to see me naked.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.” He chuckled. “Repeatedly.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint you,” she said, folding her arms. “Therefore, you should know that I own a one-piece.”

  “Is that a yes to the beach?”

  Hilary’s stomach lurched, but the thought of seeing Tripp with his shirt off was more appealing than almost anything else she could think of. So she said, “Yeah, sure, the beach,” in an overly bright tone.

  * * * *

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she blurted as he pulled into the parking lot. She turned toward him. “I changed my mind. Let’s go back to my place.”

  Tripp gave her a dry look and a genuine smile. “Not gonna happen. Come on.” He got out of the truck and collected the cooler he’d packed at his place and the only lounger he’d had hanging in his garage.

  Hilary plucked her bag from the back of his truck and followed him down the beach. Tourists and locals alike littered the sand, and there barely seemed to be a spare spot for anyone else. Tripp managed to find a patch several feet from anyone else. He set up the lounger and laid his towel on it.

  When Hilary spread her towel on the sand next to his chaise, he clicked his tongue. “Oh, that won’t do.” He reached for her towel and overlapped it on his. “You’ll be sitting right here.” He gave her a wicked grin and stripped off his T-shirt.

  Hilary choked at the sight of all those muscles. His torso rippled with them, and though she’d known hauling in nets full of wriggling fish required some serious manpower, she simply hadn’t known what it looked like in the flesh.

  She did now. And wow, it looked fantastic.

  “You can take your cover-up off anytime, sweetheart.” He chuckled and bent to open the cooler. “If you can stop staring at me, that is.”

  “How are you so tan?” she asked. “You fish in the dark. With a shirt on.”

  “I’m a man of many mysteries,” he said, lifting a can of soda out of the cooler. “You want something to drink?”