Page 69 of Eight Second Hearts

His shoulders slump. “He can’t. . . He can’t. . .” His eyes narrow. “He told you to say that.”

“No, he didn’t,” I growl. “Tripp, you know me. No one told me shit.”

He starts to shake his head, and I know I’m losing him.

“Indie,” Ram warns. “Get away from him.”

“He needs our help,” I say, moving closer.

“He’s not got his senses,” Ram warns, stepping forward, but Tripp tenses when he does, and he pauses. “Indie, it isn’t safe! Get away from him!”

“Tripp,” I rasp. “I need you to look at me. I need you to see me.”

His eyes flick to me, hold, and I think I’m making progress, until hatred fills his eyes. I understand it’s not for me. Not really. I might as well be a stranger right now as lost as he is. He lurches toward me so suddenly, I barely have time to react.

“Indie!” Ram and Beau shout at the same time.

I throw myself backward, but not before Tripp has his hands around my throat, not before he starts to squeeze. I claw at his hands, trying to dislodge him as my air cuts off.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Tripp growls savagely. “You won’t steal anything from me ever again, Dad. Never again.”

Ram and Beau are there, both of them trying to get him off me, their screams at Tripp fading in my ears as my vision starts to blacken.

“Fucking let her go!” Beau screams. “Tripp! It’s Indie! She’s not your father!”

Ram starts hitting him, punching his ribs, anything to get his attention off me, but Tripp’s hatred for his father shines in his glazed eyes. My hands stop clawing at his, growing weaker. Fuck. Is this how I’m going to die after everything?

My hand touches his chest, and his gaze follows my hand. He blinks, and some of the haze clears.

“Let her go!” Ram screams. “You’re killing her! Tripp!”

Horror slams across his expression and his hands loosen and jerk away. I slump against the table, my legs giving out, but Beau catches me before I can collapse onto the glass on the floor. Tripp backs away, his eyes wide as he realizes what he’d been seconds away from doing.

“I’ve got you,” Beau coos, holding me tightly, his eyes hard on Tripp as he looks at him. “Get yourself together, fucker! She could have died!”

Ram stands between us, using his body as a shield in case Tripp lunges again. His eyes are just as hard, and I realize suddenly that Beau’s revolver is in his hand.

“Don’t,” I croak at him, my voice raw. “Ram.”

He glances at me, and I know he won’t kill Tripp. He will shoot him to slow him down if necessary though. “He almost killed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Tripp moans, pressing his hands against his skull like it’s splitting apart. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He trips backwards, slamming against the counter. And then he starts to scream, the sound agony and anger all mixed in one.

“Jesus Christ,” Beau whispers. “I ain’t ever seen him like this. What the fuck is goin’ on?”

Tripp jerks, his throat rough with the pain of his childhood, with his frustration, with his anger. Fury fills the air, at his father, at himself. He stops screaming just as suddenly and looks at us, his eyes glazed again. “I’ll burn it down,” he whispers. “I’ll burn it fuckin’ down.”

My hand touches my sore neck, knowing it’s going to be bruised tomorrow. “He’s about to run,” I rasp. I’d watched my father have that same expression in his eyes. It’s so familiar that I barely notice I’m moving toward the door. Beau holds me back, supporting me when I prove too weak to do so.

Tripp bolts for the sliding doors. He throws it open, the snow piling up at the glass falling inside. The snow swirls in, letting in the chill as a very drunk Tripp rushes out into the snow. Barefoot. Bleeding.

“He’ll die,” I croak, stumbling after him. Beau moves with me. “Go get him.”

Ram growls. “Chale,” he spits followed by a long line of Spanish that sounds a lot like he’s cursing Tripp to hell and back. “I’ve got him. You stay here.”

I watch as Ram rushes into the snow, also barefoot, and tackles a slower than normal Tripp into the piled up drift. They both go down in a tumble, the wind drowning out their shouts. I blink past the pain in my neck, trying to keep my eyes on them as Ram struggles to get his friend under control. He grabs him under the arms and starts to drag him back toward the door.

Beau watches beside me, somber, his lips turned down. “This is a problem,” he murmurs.

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