Page 4 of Crashing the Altar
A sigh sounded from the man by my side. “Penny, you’re not making any sense. You’re Lucky, not me.”
My frustration boiled over, and I slapped my thighs. “You’re not getting it!”
“Okay.” He said the word calmly, slowly. “Why don’t you explain it to me, then?”
Huffing, I scrunched my face up, working hard to concentrate on the exact words needed to convey my meaning.
Calloused fingers pried my hands apart where I was wringing them on my lap. He took one in his, clasping them together over the center console. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
That statement had so much conviction; he truly believed there was nothing I could say that would change how he felt about me.
Was I really going to blow that perception out of the water? Throw a grenade into our friendship and hope for the best?
Turning my head, I stared at his profile as he drove. Tripp was many things—steadfast, even-tempered, the kindest man I’d ever met. Even if this went sideways, I knew he would never walk out of my life.
Not that he had much choice when we lived on the same property, but still.
If this was the only chance I got, I might as well take it. It was better than living the rest of my life wondering what if.
“Tripp.” His name fell from my lips on a rasp, my throat closing up as I prepared to make my confession.
He squeezed my hand. “I’m right here.”
Feeling our physical connection bolstered my courage, and the words rushed up my throat, “You’re the man I want to be with.”
His entire body stiffened, and my heart stopped beating, waiting for his reaction.
“Say that again?”
I opened my mouth, but this time, instead of words, something far less pleasant came out. My stomach lurched, and I couldn’t stop the vomit that splashed all over the interior of Tripp’s pristine truck. Nor could I keep it from continuing, my heaves uncontrollable until I spewed every last drop of the poison—otherwise known as alcohol—I’d ingested far too much of this evening.
“Fuck.”
Tripp’s curse was soft as he reached over to hold my hair back, and immediately, I burst into tears.
“Oh God. I’m so sorry.”
Audibly breathing through his mouth, Tripp rubbed soothing circles along my back. “It’s okay. At least tell me you’re feeling better.”
Sniffling, I groaned when the snot ran down the back of my throat, causing me to gag. Pressing my lips together, I managed a nod. “Mm-hmm.”
“We’re almost home, and when we get there, we’ll get you cleaned up and tucked into bed, okay?”
Exhausted—both physically and emotionally—the last thing I remembered was humming in the affirmative before darkness dragged me under.
I cracked one eyelid open and instantly regretted it. The sunlight streaming in through the window pierced through my skull like an ice pick to my brain.
When I rolled over onto my belly, my tender stomach screamed in protest, and I let out a pained moan.
Fuck, what kind of rare torture was this?
The only thing that brought comfort was the scent of cloves on the pillow beneath my face. A smile curved on my lips as I thought of Tripp. Hands down, he was my favorite person.
It took a while for my fuzzy brain to catch up, realizing thatmypillow wouldn’t smell like him.
That could only mean one thing.
I was in Tripp’s room.
