Page 40 of Up in Smoke (The Bunkhouse #3)

My lower lip trembles as I try to press my mouth into a line and block any sobs that try to accompany the tears falling from my eyes.

I have never seen him this way—so deeply hurt and enraged all at once.

He suffered through every word of that confession, and even though I know what he said about himself isn’t true, he believed them to be with his whole chest.

My throat burns as I try to swallow back more tears. Tripp holds his arms out and raises his brows sadly.

“You didn’t know any better when we started this up, and I’m truly sorry for that.

But now you know, and it isn’t too late.

Get out while you can. Pretty soon, I’ll be drinking my breakfast and losing everything in a drunken car crash while you’re knocked up and running with the baby as far away as possible, just like my mom did. ”

So, it was his father in the car. I ache to pull Tripp into a hug, but there’s a thick, invisible barrier between us.

“That’s ridiculous. Stop saying things that aren’t true,” I beg.

“She tried to save me from him,” he chokes out.

His eyes are bloodshot, and he shakes his head until he falls back on the pillow.

“What she was actually doing was trying to save me from turning into my father, but she wasn’t around long enough to see it through.

And now, here we are. I’m drunk and making you cry.

Written in stone. I couldn’t stop it any more than I could have stopped myself from jumping right in that truck with him tonight. ”

I stand because I want to hide under the nearest blanket, but I know I shouldn’t right now. I’m stronger than that.

“I’m sick over what happened tonight, and I’m sure you are, too,” I say with a sniff.

My chin lifts, and I wait to continue until he looks at me.

“I haven’t met your father, but I don’t need to.

Especially if he was driving tonight, putting your life in danger.

You would never do that. I know you wouldn’t.

You’re nothing like the person you described. ”

“ I was dumb enough to drink as much as I did,” he spits. “As much as I always do. I was the one who put my own life in danger by getting in the vehicle.”

“Stop,” I whisper.

“You’re sweet to me. More than I deserve.

” He pulls the covers over his body and worries his shaky hands over his solemn face.

“But I know what I saw when we took off down the road, and it looked a whole lot like my future. You don’t deserve that!

Don’t you get it? I was stupid to think, for one night, that maybe I could be anything more than deadweight for you.

Just understand what I’m trying to tell you, babe.

I’m not kicking you out, but I’m warning you that if you don’t leave before you’re stuck with this, you’ll wish you had. ”

“First, you want something more with me, and now what? Are you breaking up with me?” I hate the idea, but I can’t help but softly laugh out of pure disbelief.

“Why are you letting a complete stranger pull this much weight when I, and everybody else, have been here all along? In a way, I get it. You’re reeling right now. But you’re also acting like a coward.”

“Add it to the list.”

I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t tempted to flip him off and stomp out of this room right now. Maybe I should. It feels freeing to let myself be angry for once, when all I’ve done in the past is tiptoe around arguments like they’ll detonate in my face and I’ll never recover.

Even though my defiance is picking up speed, more tears well up in my eyes and I swipe at them before they have the chance to roll down my neck. More than the crash hit him tonight. He’s been slammed with a lifetime’s worth of insecurities.

Deep down, I recognize his current state, and it’s not the real him.

This isn’t the Tripp I know. I’m not even sure anyone has stood up to him during an emotional breakdown before.

He’s secretly hoping I give in and prove him right, but I can’t stomach giving him that satisfaction.

I wasn’t lying all the times I told him that I cared about him.

People who care about you might fight with you. But they also go to bat for you in a war against your intrusive thoughts. That means being tough. Stubborn, even. I walk to his side of the bed and place a hand on the headboard to support my weight as I lean toward him.

“The lady on the phone told me that you were physically unharmed for the most part. Is that true?”

He shrugs. I raise my eyebrows until he looks down and finally answers my question with a curt nod.

“Okay. Good. And you addressed me as your friend to the paramedic, is that correct?”

He closes his eyes and blows out a breath, which is telling enough for me that he’s aware of what he said, and knew I was on the phone listening the whole time.

“Thought so,” I add with a curt nod. “I’m going to assume you were already having a breakdown while also being drunk. Still, that’s fucking hurtful for me to hear out of your mouth, not two days after you basically professed your undying love for me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You might love it if I ran out of here like a scared little girl . . .” His eyes flick to mine, and I work to keep my voice even and sure.

“You also might wake up tomorrow and realize what a fool you were trying to force me away when all I want to do is be here with you and make sure you’re okay.

I can’t change what’s happened, but I obviously can’t convince you that you’re a good man, either.

Not if you won’t stop dismissing what I have to say. ”

His lips part, and a cold, panicked sweat covers his forehead. Good. If he’s scared that he’s gone too far with his nonsensical self-deprecation, he’ll never forget this conversation. And if I’m ever going to become the braver and more self-assured woman I’ve been striving toward, I won’t, either.

“Even if you never talk to him again, you’re going to find peace with your rocky past and disappointing reunion with the guy who happens to be your biological sperm donor.

” My voice softens, and I tilt my head to weave every heartbroken emotion into my words.

“He’s never really been your dad, Tripp.

Your family is within the plot lines of this ranch.

And here I am, next to you, and right in the middle of it, too. ”

He breathes heavier through his nose. I lean back to stand up straight and brush the still-damp hair out of my face.

When I see the stubbornness still etched in his expression, something hits me. I do my best to push it away, but the thought is too strong to ignore.

If I stay here all night, begging him to understand me, I’ll once again be the one trying to preserve a relationship with a man who isn’t taking anything I say seriously.

My words aren’t random or pulled out of thin air.

They’re true, and I want him to trust them instead of brushing them off like they’re lies.

He knows I’m glad he’s okay. He knows I care about him. No matter how much my heart aches over what he’s going through, it’s clear there’s nothing else I can do to change his mind about the dark notions in his head tonight.

It’s not solely my responsibility to make him see the light. I’m not a punching bag, either. After rejecting everything I’ve already said, he’ll have to care enough to get the rest of the way there on his own.

“I’m going home to get some sleep and refocus before a string of very important workdays and celebrating our friends’ wedding next week. I’m too exhausted to be feeding into any more of your experimental games of push and pull, Tripp. I cannot go through this again.”

I almost take it all back. My throat bobs, and a swift apology nearly slips out of my mouth. But I’ve done this before—shrinking myself down and softening my feelings when things get uncomfortable—keeping the peace to avoid further damage. Not this time.

“We’re both confused and hurt,” I continue with steady confidence. “What I need is to take some space and figure out what that means for me. I suggest you do the same.”