Tripp (29 page)

My hands clench as I remember the way she clung to me—her face pressed into my neck, her arms in a stronghold as I carried her out of that fucking bathroom—her tears no longer silent. My own eyes stung as I held her and felt the shudders from her body tremble straight through mine.

Sweet Jesus, he tried to kill her.

I know things like this happen. I don’t really watch the news, but I do watch ESPN and follow stats on Twitter. While I’m scrolling through my feed and checking score reports, I get highlights and updates about other things. I know guys kill their girlfriends or wives more regularly than I’d like to think about. I know domestic violence exists, and someone suffers at the hand of someone else every day. I know that deep down, I worried this exact thing would happen to Rachel because I knew Marcus wasn’t stable. Still, breaking into that bathroom and seeing him with Rachel…hearing him yelling at her as I pounded on the outside of the door—wondering the entire time what I’d find when I got in there… it’s enough to tear me.

“Jackson.”

I look up and see Griff and Tanner coming toward us. For some reason, the control I was sure I had over myself slips at the sight of them. Katie has tears streaming down her face; her eyes are dark and devastated when Tanner pulls her off her feet and into his arms. I take a second to wonder why that seems so natural for them, but I let it go. I stand and Griff grips my shoulder bringing me into a hug before I can say anything. Tanner sets Katie down, but keeps his arm around her, holding her to his side as she shakes.

“Mom’s with G and Gracie. Dad’s on his way over there after he closes the shop.” I nod. “How’s Rachel?”

I shake my head at Griff because I don’t know. Logically, I know she’s going to be all right. She was lucid and breathing, she was coherent enough to relay the details of what happened to both the police and the EMT. Though there was some surface damage, none of it was life threatening.
None of it was as bad as it could have been
. The EMT’s words float to the surface, and I close my eyes.

“I don’t know. She’s alive,” I say and hate that I even have to verbalize that. She’s alive, no thanks to me. She’s bruised and beaten and scared out of her ever-loving mind because I wasn’t there like I said I would be. “Her throat’s pretty raw, inside and out. She has a bump the size of a baseball on the back of her head from where he slammed her against the wall. The nurse said they’d probably keep her for observation for a while, in case she has a concussion.”

My voice breaks, and I have to stop and clasp my hands on top of my head, remembering to breathe. When the EMTs were checking Rachel out, they asked her about all of her injuries and she described how they all occurred. He’d pinned her to the counter and slammed her against the wall hard enough for her to crack her head. He used his forearm to press hard and deep into her windpipe, cutting off her air and her strength.

The only relief came quickly when they asked her about sexual assault of any kind, and she shook her head
no
.

“Christ, I should have been there. I knew he was dangerous. I knew it, I felt it—and I still wasn’t fucking there. She could have died.” My lungs are heaving now, and my hands have dropped to my side, clenched into fists. I need to punch something, anything, and release the rage and helplessness building inside of me. “I promised her I would be there, that I wouldn’t leave her alone…then,
I
wasn’t there
.”

“Jackson—” Tanner starts, but I shake my head.

“I knew, goddammit.
I
knew
. Why couldn’t I keep her safe?”

“Tripp, don’t.” Katie puts her hand on my arm, her eyes wide and wet as they look up at me. “You got to her. While you were convincing Rachel to go in the ambulance, I talked to Lauren and Mrs. Flynn…and all of the teachers who were there to keep us away from you guys. Every one of them said the same thing: you kicked the door down and you got her out.” She waits until I look at her. “Now you need to be here. Don’t start blaming yourself, or you’re useless to her. Blame Marcus. He’s the reason she’s in that room. Not you.”

It takes me a second, but I know she’s right, and I nod. I relent enough to wrap my arm around her, giving her a hug. “I guess you’re not so crazy anymore.”

“Oh, I’m plenty crazy still. Crazy enough that if I see Marcus Kash…what you did to him in the bathroom will look like a tea party. My dad’s in jail—I know people.”

I whistle low and long. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better, because no one hurts my girl and gets away with it.”

I wish that were true, but I have an awful feeling Marcus Kash is going to be the exception to that statement.

~

Over an hour later, Stacy comes out to find me.

“She’s asking for you.”

My brothers are still here, Griff next to me and Tanner on the other side of Katie. When I stand, I feel their eyes on me. Stacy watches me too. I walk toward her, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She’s ten years older than Rachel, and she’s always been reserved. Even though I knew her when we were kids, it was always as a weekend family member, or the girl Rachel constantly had to try and live up to. While Rachel is an in-your-face kind of girl—who might make a splash if need be, or just because—Stacy is the opposite, a model citizen, in other words.

She and I only ever spoke the time she trusted me to help her get Rachel out of her depression. I fear she regrets that now when we’re walking toward her sister’s hospital room—because I couldn’t protect her.

“I’m sorry,” I say. She halts her forward progress, and looks over her shoulder at me. I stick my hands in my pockets before pulling them out again and scraping them over my head.

“What are you sorry for?” Her words are so similar to the ones Rachel threw at me not long ago, her eyes direct—another trait she and her sister share. I wonder if she’s left-handed like Rachel—so I know which way to expect the punch to come from.

“I’m sorry this happened to her. Sorry I couldn’t protect her again…that I let this happen.”

She nods and looks away, her eyes filling with tears, making me feel even more like shit. “I’m pregnant. Did Rachel tell you that?”

I nod, shoving my hands back in my pockets because I have no fucking clue what to do with them except
not
to use them to pat her head.

“Ten weeks,” she murmurs. “Do you know what I was thinking when all of this started with Marcus and his mom, and then when I heard what happened today?” She looks up at me now. I shake my head, because as I do with her sister at times, it appears I’ve gone mute. “That she’s
lucky
to have you. My baby’s lucky to have you. He, or she, can meet their auntie one day soon. My mom and I are lucky to have you…so we didn’t go to the school to hear news that was a lot worse than she got beat up.”

I’m speechless, clueless how to respond. All I can focus on, still, is that Rachel’s here because I couldn’t be where she needed me to be. Doesn’t anyone else see that?

Stacy must know where my thoughts go, because she puts her hand on my arm now and forces me to look at her. “I can’t imagine doing what she has—raising a baby, making the choice to be a mom when anyone she knows would have been on her side if she had made a different one. And now
this
. But she keeps standing, and I know that’s because of you, Tripp.”

Tears fall, but she doesn’t swipe at them. She keeps her eyes on me. “I know that. So don’t ever think I regret that she chose you. I don’t, not for a second. You kicked the door down,” she says and the tears really fall. I put my arm gently around her shoulders and let her lean on me for a second.

“Do you know why I got you that day last year? Why I didn’t ask my own husband to help me get her out of bed?”

I shake my head and realize what I’m doing. “No,” croaks out of my throat.

“Because I knew you would do whatever you had to in order to save her. Just like today. You kicked the door down, Tripp,” she says again, and I feel my throat close. “Remember that if you ever start to feel guilty, okay?”

Those words… the pain that’s been a constant and heavy weight for the past few hours eases a fraction, but that fraction is all I need to breathe clearly. With that breath I know, I know what she’s saying is right. Like Rachel, though, the guilt might take a little longer to subside. I nod and we start walking. “Okay.”

40

Present

“I swear to god, if one more person asks me how I am—I will punch them in the face.”

“As long as you do it from bed, I don’t care,” Stacy quips.

“I’m not a child.”

“The irony in that statement right now is almost too much.”

I pause outside of Rachel’s bedroom door, wincing as I hear her growl at her sister. It’s been a week since Marcus attacked her. Though the doctor assured everyone that most of the damage was surface—the bruising on her neck and back and the small concussion—her mom and sister have put her on lockdown. No volleyball, no school, no outings.

As a result, I’ve only seen her for an hour or so each day since she left the hospital. A part of me was relieved for the break. The bruises on her neck or back, and the small tremors that would seize her every now and then when she remembered what happened, made me want to go into a rage—which isn’t what she needed. Instead, I let her mom and sister baby her and I spent the majority of my time in the gym with my brothers, beating the crap out of myself.

“You paid your penance yet, Jackson?” Tanner asked me last night.

“What are you talking about?”

Griff rolled his eyes and swiped the sweat off his face after almost an hour of lifting, jumping, and running. “You’ve been here all week punishing your body. You’ve seen Rachel only a few times, and definitely not long enough to show her in a proper way just how glad you are she’s alive.”

My teeth clenched, and I threw my own sweat-drenched towel in the laundry basket. “She was attacked by the guy who fathered her child. He tried to
kill
her. I think she deserves a little break after that.”

Tanner rolled his eyes and my short temper threatened to break and lash out at him. “From you? Does she need a break from you, Jackson? Because you aren’t responsible for what happened.”

“I fucking know that,” I said, getting in his face.

“Do you?” Tanner asked, not backing down. “Because the way you’re abusing your body says differently, little brother. Like maybe you’re punishing yourself for things you can’t control.”

That snapped my last straw. I shoved him and threw the bag I’d just picked up, listening with minimal satisfaction as it thudded against the metal lockers. “I
know
it’s not my fault. I
know
I couldn’t have predicted Marcus would find an unlocked side door and get in the school. I
know
all of that. But it doesn’t fucking mean I can just forget it happened. What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten her text? What would have happened if he’d been there a few minutes earlier? Or if I had gotten there a few minutes later?” I scraped my hands over my head and wished for something else to throw.

“Jackson.” Griff laid his hand on my arm. “You can’t go there. You can’t,” he spoke over me when I went to argue. “You
weren’t
there a second later. She got away. She survived. Now you gotta survive, too. You gotta find a way to put it behind you and be with your girl.”

“Don’t let that abusive prick win,” Tanner said, and for the first time in days, I laughed.

I know they’re right. I don’t blame myself for Marcus and what he did, but I can’t seem to put it aside, either. The fear of
what could have been
is paralyzing me. It’s time it stopped. Being here is my first step to moving on, though I wish I wasn’t taking my own life in my hands as I attempt to insert myself into a feud between the sisters.

“Call me a child one more time,” Rachel hisses. I take it as my cue to step in.

“There she is, looking pretty as a picture with that scowl on her face.” Cue the death glare. I smirk back, looking at her like I haven’t really let myself do in the last few days. Her hair is pulled back, those ever-resistant pieces slipping from the band to float around her face, and she’s wearing nothing but gray sweats and a white tank top. It’s not sexy, but everything in my body is tight and hard just looking at her. Jesus, I’ve missed her.

“If you’re here to tell me I need to rest, or to remind me that I had an
ordeal
, turn around and go the fuck back to wherever you’ve been the last week.”

“I missed you too, baby,” I say and I swear she hisses at me. “Your language always suffers when you’re mad. Hey, Stace, mind if I have a date with my girl?”

Before she can tell me that Rachel shouldn’t go anywhere, I hold up the bag of supplies I brought with me. “She’ll still be in bed, I promise.”

“If you think you’re getting some after you’ve helped them keep me prisoner for the last six days, think again.”

I don’t bother shooting Rachel a glare, but I feel heat start to crawl up my neck as Stacy narrows her eyes at me. “Anaerobic activities only, I promise.”

Finally, Stacy sighs and throws her hands up. “Yes, please, take her. I wouldn’t be here but my mom has a big meeting and god knows if Rae’s left by herself, she’ll break the rules.” She hands me the monitor. “Gracie’s in bed, and Pissy pants there hasn’t really eaten dinner.”

“Thanks, Stace. I’ll hold the fort down for the rest of the night.”

Despite Rachel’s bad-tempered glare, Stacy walks over and kisses her on the forehead. “Love you, and even with your attitude, I’m still glad you’re not dead.”

“Ditto,” Rachel mumbles.

I walk Stacy to her car. When I get back, Rachel is leaning against her headboard. “Hey,” I say and sit next to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you talking to me? You’re not just going to sit here and stare at me while my mom and sister bully me?”

“Someone’s feeling better.”

“No, I’m feeling annoyed, suffocated, irritated and downright pissed off. But if you want to call that
better
, then sure. I feel fucking fantastic.” She scowls and slaps at my hand when I lean over and swipe at some hair. “There was nothing wrong with me. I had some bruises. Why is everyone acting like I was on life support?”