Page 163 of Really Truly Yours

He sighs. “Even before the drugs—but I’m not like that anymore. I’m a new man.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.”

The complete silence from my bodyguard shocks me. Not so much as a snort. Tripp is as cynical as they come.

“It’s true. There was a ministry at the prison. I did it because I was bored…but it got to me. Got through to me. I guess I finally came to understand what Grammy tried to give me all those years ago. Sydnee, too.” He looks away. “Sure as crap didn’t get it from my dad.”

I’m not the seer of souls my brother is, but even I know enough to be skeptical of jailhouse conversions. This guy admits he used the ministry for his own purposes. I’d be a fool to be swayed by mere words.

“Good for you, I guess, but that doesn’t give you the right to barrel into Sydnee’s life. You made your bed, and now you’ve got to lie in it until she is ready to talk to you. Got that?” I won’t have it any other way, and trust me, I will be by her side when and if that day comes.

He rubs his hand along his full beard. The sincerity in his eyes is something I wish I didn’t see. Compassion complicates things.

Hopefully, Tripp can talk me out of it.

Max’s entire demeanor sags. “I got it. But would you tell her something for me? Please? Tell her what I’ve said. Tell her I am sorry, that I love her, and that when she’s ready…”

Dang, are those tears building in his eyes? “I’ll tell her.”

“Thanks.” He shakes it off, raising his chin. “Now, I got one question for you.”

I jut my chin right back. “Yeah?”

“If you’re about to marry my sister…how come you don’t know any better than I do where she is?”

∞∞∞

Punk.

I pound my fist on the steering wheel.

“Easy, bro.”

“How dare he challenge me!”

Tripp’s quiet speaks.

I steal a glance from the highway. “Right?”

His profile is hard, yes, but also pensive.

“Don’t tell me you’re buying that new man stuff?”

His finger taps. “Just window shopping for now.”

Wow. Right when I need him to hold the line for me.

“Let the steering wheel live, man. I’m just thinking, is all.” He taps his knee again. “You see that cross tat on his hand?”

“A costume.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Looked fresh though.” I feel his focus. “You stealing my job, bro? I’m the cynical one here.”

“Yeah, well, that was before Sydnee. I can’t risk being wrong on this.”

“I get it.” He stretches his arm, a cringey, colorful arm, across the top of the door. “Donny’s place now?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

---