Page 73 of Eight Second Hearts

The three of us wade through the snow drifts before slipping back inside, dragging cold and snow with us. Already, the house is colder than it ought to be. And that’s a problem.

Indie already has a bruised neck because of me. She ain’t gonna be cold on top of that.

“Gen’s gone,” I tell her as we come inside. “It wasn’t serviced, and the damn thing won’t restart.”

Indie sits on the couch wrapped in blankets. “So, what now? We can’t exactly go anywhere.”

“Mom has a generator and says it’s running fine, but there’s no way to get to her house, not while it’s snowing it’s ass off,” Ram admits. “Best to wait it out with a warm fire.”

Ram and Beau get to work on the fireplace. I decide that it’s best we have some food in our bellies, so I go into the kitchen and start working on a meal that doesn’t require cooking. Luckily, we stocked the fridge yesterday, or else this might have been a very uncomfortable wait.

When I come back into the living room with the bowl and chips, the fireplace is roaring, and the room is already starting to feel warmer. Thank God Beau learned how to start a fire proper when we were kids. After all, he’s the fire bug between us.

“I got lunch,” I declare, setting the bowl on the table.

Indie leans forward. “What’s that?”

“Cowboy Caviar,” I reply. “It’s a dip. Best I can do right now without power.”

She hums and grabs a chip, scooping up some of the mix and taking a bite. I watch her with bated breath, desperate to hear what she thinks. I wonder if she knows how much her opinionmeans to me. “Wow,” she says after she finishes the bite. “That’s really fucking good.”

Beau laughs. “Wait ‘til you try his chili. You’ll fall in love with him just for that.”

Love. We haven’t even talked about something like that. Hell, we aren’t exactly dating. . .

Right?

I take a seat and fill my plate with the dip before leaning back. “You said if I’m going to heal, I gotta open the box, right?”

Her eyes flick to me. “At your own pace, yeah.”

“I’m not really the patient kind,” I admit. “So, I figure just telling you about it is best. Rip off the band aid quick, you know?”

She leans back. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Tripp.”

I nod and gather my senses. Fuck, I could really use a drink right now. But the thought of it reminds me of the marks on Indie’s neck and all the times I gave Ram a black eye, all the times they’d had to carry me home, and the desire turns to acid in my stomach. How had I let myself get to this point? It took a reporter on my doorstep with dark eyes and a penchant for stealing pens to realize just how far I’d fallen. It shouldn’t have taken so long.

“The first time I was on the back of a rodeo bull was when I was four,” I start.

She gasps. “So young?”

Nodding, I take a bite before continuing. “My grandpa put my dad on his first bull at the same age, so I was no different. Savage boys are built for rodeo and nothing else, so might as well start as soon as you’re able. Pretty sure Dad would have put me on earlier if not for my mama.” I frown. “She died a week before he put me on the bull, so. . . kind of the next step in my dad’s eyes, I guess. Grandpa didn’t help. He treated my dad like shit,and in return, my dad did the same to me. If I wasn’t no good at bull riding, then I was worthless, so best get to learning quick.”

She doesn’t look at me with pity. I expected pity. Somehow, her understanding hurts worse.

“Ram grew up here with me, but he was already eleven by the time I was four, already busy shoveling out the barn and working the job my dad expected of him. Beau didn’t show up until a few years later. But for a while, it was just me at Dad and Grandpa’s mercy. Broke my arm a few times when I was thrown. Didn’t matter. I was on that bull with a cast.”

I sigh. “About six months after my mama died though, things got worse when dad moved Kelly in.” At her questioning eyes, I add, “Darla’s mom.”

“That quickly?” she whispers.

“Yeah. My timeline is a little off in my memory I think, but the math don’t lie. Darla was born a month after she moved in, and she’s very much my father’s daughter. He made sure to test her.”

“Which means he was. . .” Indie sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“My mom died from a heart condition. But yeah, he was already messing around on her while she was sick. When I’d realized that at twelve, I’d confronted him about it and got my first tooth knocked out by him. When he took me to the dentist to get it fixed, he told me that it was my own fault for not minding my business.” I shake my head. “Darla and I not being close is by his design. He always pitted us against each other, and honestly, he treated her worse than he treated her mom. Still does.”

“And yet you force her to stay in that house with him?” she asks.

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