Page 27 of By the Book

“Who? Jackson Mills? I didn’t even realize he was there.”

“He’s on the list. And I do remember seeing him at one point. But Fitzy told me once that Jackson applies to his business grant every year. And has never received it. Butyouhave.”

“What about the other businesses? Were those funded at any point by the mayor?”

“I plan to find out,” Tripp says, sending the list to himself and handing me the tablet back. “Now about that key…”

My face floods with heat. About that key, the one I left at home. “I swear, I didn’t forget it on purpose,” I offer hurriedly.

He loosens a sigh and rolls his neck, tension radiating off him. “You can’t have that. It’s not safe.”

“I’ll give it to you, I swear.”

He studies me, as if deciding whether he believes my forgetful blunder or not. “You realize that you’re tampering with evidence, right?”

“I don’t think I’d go that far.” I flash him an innocent smile.

“This isn’t safe for you,” he urges, frustration laced in his words.

“For me? Just because of New York, no one thinks I can handle anything.” I can feel my bottom lip jut out like a pouting child, but I can’t seem to find the energy to care.

“What does New York have to do with anything?”

I look up at him and see genuine confusion in his eyes. “Why don’t you think it’s safe for me to have some keychain then?”

“Because,” he grits out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Someone broke into your store, while you were there by the way, and destroyed everything in sight. You think he wouldn’t have caused you harm if he found you? I guarantee you—” Tripp drops his head in his hand, letting out another deep sigh. “I guarantee you he would have done something awful to you, Ivy. And I can’t focus if I’m worried about you walking around with his keys. Because he’s going to want those back.”

“You’re worried about me?” I ask, leaning towards him.

“Is that a serious question?”

“Yes.”

“I was out of my fucking mind when you texted me that night. Please, give me those keys and let me keep you safe. Please.”

I’m not sure what comes over me. Maybe it’s the desperate look in his deep, warm eyes. Maybe it’s the soft plea in his voice. But I reach out and trail my hand down his arm, resting my chin on his shoulder.

It should feel foreign and wrong, snuggling up to Tripp like this. But it only feels natural. I want to stay up here, above the town and the people that would judge me for this need to be near him.

He shifts his arm from my embrace and loops it around my shoulders instead, pulling me into his side. “I’m coming up to get them,” he murmurs, “when I drop you off today.”

“Okay,” I agree, nuzzling in tighter.

He holds onto me, tucked against him like I belong. Tripp is comfort, and safety, and I want to belong here with him, more than anything. Neither of us talk for a moment, staring out at the endless sea.

Then he whispers, “What happened in New York?”

“Two years ago, my dad had a heart attack.”

He stiffens beside me. “He… what?”

“Wes doesn’t know. It’s just been between my parents and me this whole time. When it happened, I came home to help him. And then I stayed.”

“That’s why you left New York.”

“It is, but not completely. I think it was my excuse at the time. My dad didn’t need my help after a while. By that point though, I didn’t want to go back. New York was hectic, and I felt lost. And my job was awful. Even only being there a few months, it wasn’t at all what I had expected, being in publishing. The job duties, the ways we interacted with the work; they weren’t what I expected. Then I came home, and it was like I could breathe again. I was happy again. Foxport is everything I was missing—comfort, support, that close knit feeling.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be home instead, wanting something different than what you thought. You know that, right?” he asks.

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