Page 5 of Crashing the Altar
Last night was hazy, and I couldn’t pinpoint exactly how I’d gotten up here. Though I did remember having a conscious thought about spilling my guts to my best friend about my feelings for him.
A gasp worked its way up my throat, and I sat up in bed. “Oh my God.”
Covering my face, I groaned as memories of last night came rushing back, and flashes of me literally spilling my guts all over Tripp’s truck came to mind. And that wasafterI’d told him I wanted to be with him.
This was so, so bad.
Peeking through my fingers, I saw that I was wearing one of Tripp’s T-shirts and a pair of his boxers. A gentle exploration through my tangled hair indicated that I’d slept on it wet.
I wasn’t sure which was worse—if Tripp was the one who had bathed and dressed me while I was blackout drunk, or if he’d asked his mother to help. I couldn’t be more embarrassed if I tried.
Slipping out of bed, I found a glass of water and painkillers sitting on the bedside table. Tossing back the pills, I greedily gulped the liquid, desperate to soothe the dryness of my mouth. Then, I noticed my clothes from last night were clean, dry, and folded on the window seat.
Of course they were. Poor Tripp probably hadn’t slept a wink last night, too busy cleaning up all of my messes.
Dressing quickly, I poked my nose out through the crack in the bedroom door. The coast seemed clear, so I slipped into the hallway and crept down the steps, hoping to avoid running into either of his parents. Though with the sun being as high in the sky as it was, the odds were good that Daisy was already at the school in town—where she served as its principal—and Jett was likely somewhere on the property doing one of the million things that kept this place running.
My boots were set neatly beside the front door, so I pulled them on before venturing outside. Only to have the shame over my behavior last night burn brighter when I stepped onto the wraparound porch of the main ranch house to find Tripp literally hosing down his pickup.
Taking a cleansing breath, I forced my feet to move down the porch steps and closer to where my best friend was hard at work, trying to purge the puke stench from his car’s interior.
Steering clear of the backwash soaking into the gravel at his feet, I paused near the front of the truck, leaning my body against the sun-warmed hood.
The movement must’ve caught his eye because Tripp looked up, his gaze softening when he caught sight of me.
A million butterflies took flight inside my belly, flapping wildly. Lord, I could get lost in those baby blues.
“You’re awake.” A gentle smile tipped up one corner of his lips as he shut off the hose. “How’re you feelin’?”
I lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I’ve had better mornings.”
Tripp hummed. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” He blew out a heavy breath before tugging on the back of his neck. “Listen, about what you said last night . . .”
My stomach dropped, and for a split second, I feared I’d get sick again.
He looked so uncomfortable. All because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut after drinking too much.
I had to fix this now, or else I could kiss the easy relationship with my best friend goodbye.
“Honestly, I, uh, don’t remember much of what happened after we left the bar.”
Those beautiful blue eyes widened before dropping to the ground. “Oh, right.” He toed the gravel. “Figured as much.”
“I’m sorry I ruined our fun night out.”
“Did you have fun in the parts that youcanremember?”
“Yeah,” I answered honestly. “I did.”
He lifted his gaze. “Then that’s all that matters.” Tripp hitched a thumb toward his open truck door. “I’m gonna finish up here and grab a shower.”
Heat rose up my neck. “I’m sorry about that too.”
“Don’t be. I should’ve cut you off long before you got to that point. I’ve got no one else to blame but myself.”
“Tripp,” I said his name on a sigh.
He was always doing this. He never let me take the blame for anything. Even when we were kids and got into trouble—which wasalwaysmy fault—he would confess to it being his idea, taking the brunt of the punishment from our parents.
