Page 145 of Really Truly Yours

The pasty sand is littered with the night’s haul of seashells and seaweed. Tunnel-like holes pepper the surface. I think critters must live in them.

Barely above the horizon, the sun is a blazing ball of fire, cutting the otherwise blue skies and white clouds with its brilliant colors. A breeze scoops my hair off my neck. Almost out of sight range, I spy a man and a frolicking black Lab. Other than that, I have the space to myself.

I pivot, taking in the Walker homeplace. How did I get here with these people so unlike my own?

The more pressing question? Can I survive brunch in a few hours with Gray’s parents?

The question lingers as I sit on the sand, pulling my knees to my chest. I close my eyes and absorb the early rays until a deep voice greets me.

Like a creature of the sea, Tripp emerges from the foamy waves, smiling. Even knowing what I do about the overkill of tattoos, they remain a lot to take in. He scoops up a white t-shirt several feet from me and tugs it over his head. I sigh. How did I miss him amidst the waves, much less his shirt ridiculously close?

He runs his hand over his wet hair, shoving it back. “You’re up early.”

I return his smile. “And you’re even earlier.”

“True. I like to swim in the mornings. Did it as a kid, too.”

I can only imagine what that was like.

He motions to the sand in my vicinity. “May I?”

“Of course.”

He lowers to a spot a couple feet away, dangling his arms atop his knees. For some reason, the quiet unnerves me. “It’s really great here.”

“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” The smile around his mouth is shallow. His chin bobs along as if he already knows the answer I don’t voice. “It was for me when I showed up.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen, and as messed up as they come. This place was both a dream come true and a nightmare, all at the same time.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yep. They sure seemed to want me, but I didn’t see how it could last and knew I didn’t have a prayer of a chance of fitting in. So I caused trouble. Ran off once or twice.” He angles back to the house, pointing. “That tree by the middle balcony? My escape route.” He grins.

I laugh. “What changed?”

“Well, for starters, I was wrong about the prayer of a chance thing. Mom and Dad prayed their knees off. Their love won me over. Eventually, I came to understand real love. That exactly who I was was good enough.”

Broken seashells lie scattered about my feet. I curl my toes and watch sand oozing between the grooves. “Both of my parents were addicts, and I’ve told you about my older brother. Mom abandoned us years ago, and Dad died in prison.”

Tripp allows me my pride by watching the horizon.

“And the kicker? Just when I feel like my life might be going somewhere, my brother, who’s never liked me and never been anything for me but trouble, gets paroled.” I snort. “Today, of all things.”

He barely turns. “Today, huh?”

“That’s what I’m told.” Oh, the irony. The unfair, more-of-the-same irony.

“I’m sorry, Sydnee.” He looks fully. “I feel your pain. Here I am on the cusp of fatherhood, and the man who for all intents and purposes was the architect of every last bit of crap that nearly destroyed me suddenly inserts himself into my life, and I’m supposed to play like he’s my loving daddy.”

In spite of my affection for Donny, I won’t argue. Tripp has earned his take on his life.

He runs a hand through his wet hair. “I’m sorry, Sydnee. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I am working on things with Donny. It’s definitely going to be a process though.”

“I understand.” I pick up a shell and gouge a line in the sand. “Gray doesn’t know what it’s like.”

That earns a snort of a laugh. “Not a flippin’ clue.” Sighing, he shakes his head. “He means well.”

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