Page 38 of Eight Second Hearts

He picks up his cup and nearly drops it, curses, and takes another drink. “Maybe they are,” he says, his fingers squeezing the cup too hard. I notice the way his hand shakes, the way he seems to be sinking lower and lower into the haybale.

“How long have you been an alcoholic?” I ask softly.

I’d recognize that jitter anywhere. I’d watched my dad battle with it, watched him determined to stop drinking only for his sobriety journey ending with a raid and jail time. Tripp isn’t on a sobriety journey. He’s on a journey to forget. . . whatever it is that haunts him. From the sounds of it, part of that has to do with his dad.

He stares at me. “Anyone ever tell you to mind your business?”

“Yeah, all the time,” I shrug. “But asking questions is kind of part of who I am.”

He shakes his head. “You and Ram are kind of the same. He’s the only reason I don’t just drown myself completely. Him and Beau.” He finishes off his second cup. “They like you.”

“But not you?”

“I don’t not like you. I wanna fuck you. There’s a difference,” he drops.

My eyes widen. “What?”

“Hell, we all do,” he continues as if he’s not dropping news on me. “There’s just something about you that gets under my skin, and I can’t quite figure it out. It makes me nervous.” His words start to slur as he continues, making it hard to understand him as he slumps back all the way.

“Sounds like you’re scared of me,” I muse, staring at him, dismissing his words as just ramblings of a drunk man.

His eyes close and his head tips back. “The only person I’ve ever truly been scared of is my father,” he slurs, before slumping completely, out like a light.

I stare at him, at the tidbits he’d told me, at the way he’s just spread eagled out here under the stars, drunk and cold. Part of me pities him. Using alcohol to run from your trauma is never a good plan, but. . .I can’t blame him for it. I don’t know his history. I don’t know what he’s been through. Clearly, he has good people taking care of him now at least.

“I see you found Tripp.”

I look toward the pole tent to see Ram holding two cups. “He passed out.”

Ram nods. “It took him less time than usual.”

I take the drink he offers me before watching him climb up on the haybales and take a seat beside me. “This is normal?”

He shrugs. “It can be. He goes through waves.”

“Why?” I ask, curious.

His eyes flick to mine. “That’s not my story to tell,periodista.”

I nod in understanding and we both lean back to look at the stars in the clear sky. There are fewer stars out here because of the light pollution, not like the desert. I miss being able to see that many stars no matter what. I’ve been spending too much time in cities.

“He’s right you know,” Ram says a few minutes later.

My brows furrow. “About what?”

He grins at the stars, as if he knows looking at me will break the spell we’re both under. “About us all liking you.”

And I suddenly realize, Ram had been there listening all along, letting Tripp say things he probably shouldn’t to someone planning to write an article about them. But the information hadbeen gathered in a moment of weakness. I won’t use it unless he tells me without being under the influence. I can’t. I’d feel too bad about it. And I think Ram knows that.

Finally, he looks down at me, and our eyes lock, and there’s something playful in the way his lips quirk up, as if daring me to deny I like him, too. I don’t. It’d be a lie.

“Good to know,” I say, before taking a sip of my Tom Collins.

He takes off his hat and sets it to the side of him. His hand wraps around my neck slowly before he tugs me in, and then his lips are moving over mine in a kiss that is meant to seduce. I melt into him, letting him kiss me deeply, loving the feel of his lips on mine. My own hand comes up and threads into his black hair, trying to pull him closer. It’s him that pulls back first, not me. Desire swirls in his eyes while he looks at me, and I’m sure my own eyes swirl with my need.

“We should probably get him back to the room,” he says, gesturing toward Tripp where he’s passed out on my other side.

“Yeah,” I breathe, forgetting for a moment that Tripp was even there. “Yeah, we should do that.”

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