TRIPP
Tripp was at Coach’s place the next afternoon, trying and failing to keep his mind off Jillian while he ripped up carpet in the living room.
The bathroom above was finally put back together, and he knew that theoretically he could just repair the ceiling and move on. But he had a feeling that there was water damage to the carpet and the wood flooring beneath too. And he wasn’t doing this job halfway.
It wasn’t just because of Coach and Mrs. Johnson. Jillian and the girls lived here now as well. And he couldn’t stand the idea of any of them living in a house where things weren’t as safe and sound as he could make them.
You’re falling too fast, too hard,a little voice in the back of his head warned him.She agreed to date you, not to marry you.
And that much was true. She hadn’t agreed to marry himyet.He’d have to wait a while for that, and give hertime to get used to the idea of having him around every day.
But he was feeling more hopeful than ever. That big fancy date they’d gone on had wound up being one of the most relaxed and enjoyable evenings of his life. Maybe it was destiny that had brought her home to him, and destiny that had held them apart long enough for her to have her girls, and for him to grow up and mellow out.
The sound of the school bus pulling up put a smile on his face. As Mrs. Johnson headed down the hallway to the front door, he set aside his tools and washed his hands in the powder room sink.
“…and we pickedtomatoes,” Posey was saying happily as he came out.
“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Johnson told her.
“Hi, Tripp,” Mari said with a big smile. “Are you fixing the house?”
“I sure am,” he told her. “And I found pretty oak floors under your great-grandma’s carpet today.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Johnson said. “I always did want to pull up that carpet and finish those floors.”
“Well, that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Tripp told her. “And then I’ll take you into Burlington and you can choose a nice area rug instead.”
“Oh, we don’t need all that, sweetheart,” she said, patting his arm.
She was clearly worried about money, but didn’t want to say so.
“It will be my treat,” he told her. “After all, I came in here with muddy boots enough times in high school to contribute.”
“We couldn’t let you do that,” she said, shaking her head.
“Maybe Jillian can help me choose one,” he suggested.
“That’s a nice idea,” she said, instantly placated by the idea of him spending time with her granddaughter.
A wash of warmth went through his chest. Whatever the rest of the world might think, the Johnsons, who knew the real Tripp, were rooting for him.
“We’re going to make a snack,” Mari told him. “Do you want some?”
“Of course,”he told her.
“But you don’t even know what it is,” Posey laughed.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, winking. “If you guys make it, I know it’ll be good. Plus, I’m an excellent eater. My mother always said so.”
Mrs. Johnson laughed out loud as the girls trailed her into the kitchen.
He watched after them for a moment before heading back to the living room to attack the carpet a bit more.
He had just gotten up the padding and was pulling up the tack strip with the claw of his hammer when the front door opened again.
“Oh, wow,” Jillian’s voice said softly.
“Hey,” he said, setting down the hammer and turning to her. “I thought I’d pull up the carpet to check on the flooring under the leak. Turns out, your grandparents have nice oak floors in here.”
