“I’m so sorry,” I tell him again, my hands moving to brush through his hair. “We didn’t mean…it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“How many times?”
My lip trembles as my eyes fill with tears again, one of them spilling over onto my cheek. “Tripp, I—”
“Fuck, Julia,” he cries, his elbow sitting on his knee as his hand scrubs down his face. “We’ve been marriedeleven years.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” I sniff as I reach for his face again, my hands stroking his hair. “Lovey, please. I can’t lose you. Please let me fix this. I can fix it.”
Closing the distance between us, I press my lips to his. For one perfect moment, he reciprocates, leaning into me as the two of us cry together.
Only for one moment.
Pulling away from me, he shakes his head.
“I gotta get out of here.” A pained grunt escapes him as he brings himself to a standing position, his hand taking its place again at his aching rib cage. “Where’s my cat?”
“Tripp—”
He carefully steps around me, making a path out of the bedroom in search of Drumstick, and I crawl toward the door, finally standing to leave the room as I try to stay close to him.
“Please,” I hiccup, “don’t walk away. Please don’t leave me here!”
Hoisting our cat under his arm, he treks down the stairs and past his brother with a shake of his head, his free hand scrubbing down his face as a harsh sniff carves itself from his nose. Brody silently places his own body between ours, using himself as some sort of human shield as if my husband needs to be protected from me.
My fingers claw at my shirt in the space above my heart, trying to stop the searing pain in my chest as the distance between us grows. Only once in my life have I ever felt as empty as I do watching the love of my life pull open the front door and step out of it.
“Tripp!”
“Just—” I can almost feel the warning radiating off of Brody’s body as my husband turns to face me and a hand stops him from moving further, pressing firmly into his chest. “Give me a couple days.”
My breathing is harsh and jagged as I watch the two of them walk out of the front door, closing it behind them. The muffled sound of Tripp cursing seeps through the door as I lower myself to the floor in front of it, curling my knees up to my chest as I lay on my side and sharp, painful sobs rip their way through my throat.
The very first time that Tripp Montgomery kissed me was on his seventeenth birthday.
It was one of the best days of my life.
16 years old
My lungs ache, forcing me to stop on the track and brace my hands against my knees. I pull in deep breaths through my nose, slowly letting them out through my mouth, but the effort proves useless and I quickly dissolve back into heavy pants.
With a frustrated groan, I stalk toward the bleachers where my water bottle and backpack are waiting for me, and I drop onto the sun-warmed metal with a huff as I reach for my drink.
“You’re blocking my light, you know,” I hear a familiar voice call out from underneath me.
Bending down to look below the bleachers, I find Tripp Montgomery, sitting alone in a patch of dirt. His backpack is on the ground next to him, the top of which is littered with a handful of disassembled pens, a metal tin, a lighter, and a package of sewing needles.
“What are you doing down there?” I ask him with a giggle.
“I dunno,” he shrugs, pushing his fingers back through his loose, dark curls. “I had an idea, but…”
I climb down from my seat and make my way toward the bottom of the bleachers, ducking beneath a support bar to keep myself from hitting my head on the way in. Sunlight streamsin from the space I was occupying to light up his features as he smiles at me.
I’ve had a crush on Tripp for the past two years, at least. He is one of the coolest guys in the entire school, if not the coolest, and he issocute. Like, write about him in your journal and scribble his name in hearts kind of cute. Write your first name next to his last name to see how they sound together, kind of cute.
No, I haven’t done that – but I’ve definitely thought about doing it.
“What’s your idea?”
