Page 8 of Trip
“Yeah, but I can’t let you miss out on cash because I’m asking you to talk about something that’s going to upset you,” I tell her. Then, before she can interrupt me, I say, “I insist, Julia.”
Then, I give her a smile. It feels almost foreign on my face, but something about her just draws it out of me. I’m sure that if I spend more time with her, it’ll become a permanent fixture. At least where she’s concerned.
“Wait,” she says as I stand up. “Where are you going?”
“My place,” I say, inclining my head toward the door. “You coming?”
“You– your food,” she sputters as she gets to her feet. “And… and I still have tables.”
“I’m not that hungry,” I say with a shrug. “I only came here to talk to you anyway.”
“But, my tables…” she says weakly, and I already know she’s about to break.
I glance around the restaurant, spotting another server that’s rushing by us. As she passes, I catch her arm, bringing her to a stop. She looks up at me with big eyes, then glances at the patch on my jacket.
“You think you can take care of Julia’s tables? She’s leaving early today,” I say. Even though it’s phrased as a question, it’s a demand. As soon as she nods, I look at Julia and say, “Looks like you don’t have any tables to worry about anymore.”
Without looking at Julia again, I march back into the storage room to get the extra helmet. I’m really going to have to get her one of her own if she’s going to be riding with me – and she is, I can tell she loves being on the bike. When I get back to the front of the restaurant, she’s waiting for me.
Wordlessly, I pass her the helmet and lead her to my bike. She doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t seem resigned. Sure, there’s a look on her face that says she’s hesitant about the conversation we’re going to have, but that doesn’t stop me from noticing the way the corners of her lips tug upward.
Chapter 5
Julia
Telling Trip everything was never something that I wanted to do. It’s not that I don’t trust him. Actually, I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone besides my sisters. I just haven’t processed everything that’s happened yet.
I mean, how do you even begin to process your parents being murdered? Therapy, maybe. But I can’t afford to go, not while I’m paying for my sisters’ weekly visits.
Surprisingly though, when I’m on the back of his bike, I feel like everything’s going to be okay. Part of it is definitely being pressed up against him, but there’s something freeing about the wind whipping around me. Maybe this is how I can process everything and learn to live with the dark cloud that’s been hanging over me for so long.
When we get to Trip’s house, I’m surprised to see a well-manicured lawn and perfectly trimmed bushes. Inside, I’m even more surprised to see how clean the interior is. I wasn’t expecting him to be a slob by any means, but he is a single man. They’re not exactly known for their cleanliness.
“Here, sit down,” he says as he leads me to his couch. “Let me get you something to drink.”
As I lower myself onto the slightly hard cushions, Trip disappears into his kitchen. He isn’t gone for very long, but it’s enough time for me to get in my head about everything. Telling him what happened, the reason my sisters and I are in RioLunas, isn’t something I can do. Not so soon. I might scare him off, and even though I do trust him, what if we’re just in the honeymoon period I’ve heard so much about?
“Sorry I don’t have anything more exciting,” he says as he passes me a water bottle.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, accepting the bottle.
Silence settles between us, and I open the bottle to take a drink, and the sound of the top popping off is deafening in the quiet room. It borders on the edge of awkward. There’s nothing I can think to say that would be appropriate. In the end, it’s Trip who speaks first.
“I’m sorry for pressing for details like that in the diner,” he says, voice soft like he’s talking to a spooked animal. “That wasn’t fair of me.”
“It wasn’t,” I say, surprising myself with my candor. “There’s a reason I don’t talk about what happened. And I don’t even know if this is something I can trust you with.”
He nods, murmuring, “I suppose I haven’t given you any reason to trust me.” Then, he meets my eyes, his gaze as close to vulnerable as a man like him can get. “You know how I told you about my sister? The one who raised me who passed away?”
“I do,” I say, realizing that he’s about to give me a part of himself even though I didn’t ask for it.
“Well, she passed away because someone murdered her,” Trip says, the words striking a chord deep within me. “I mean, I don’t think killing her was their goal, but they were still planning on doing awful things to her.”
He stops to swallow harshly. I reach over to grab his hand, comforting him the same way he comforted me in thediner. The contact brings a smile out of him. It’s small and sad, but it’s there, and I feel like I’ve done something right.
“She was at a party, too young to be drinking. But that’s just what teenagers do. They go out, they get drunk. They make bad decisions,” he says.
“That doesn’t mean she deserved what happened,” I whisper, hoping my words help.
