Page 43 of Wake Me Up
I can always tell when she’s bummed out about something, but lately, she’s been a little harder to read because I know, deep down, she has to be worried about the surgery.
“Everything okay?” I give her body a little squeeze. “You seem a little down, babe.”
She wiggles slightly, moving out of my hold and positioning her body to face mine. “I’m glad the boys get to spend time with Tripp. They alwaysseem happy around him and all, and he does a lot of nice things for them.” She stops, looking down shamefully. “But sometimes …”
“You wish you could spend time with him too?” I take a guess, even though this isn’t a concern I had before this very moment.
“A little, yeah.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s almost like they’ve had a dad lately. I wish I had a dad person too. Even if he doesn’t want to hang out with me, I wish someone would.”
I’m so taken aback from her words, and I don’t have a damn clue what to even say. Tripp certainly isn’t a father figure to my boys. It’s all too new for that, and besides, the kids don’t even know we’re legally married.
Reaching up, I cup her cheek. “I’m sorry you’re feeling that way, baby.” I stroke her cheek, thinking about how I swear she was just a tiny baby and all was right in the world. “And I’m sure if you’d like to hang out with Tripp sometime, he’d be honored.”
“Really?” she peeps.
“Absolutely,” I say, plastering on my brave face because I’m her mom. I’m supposed to know the answers, even when I don’t. Like right now.
Pulling her back against me, I nuzzle my nose into her hair and breathe her in. “Love you, chickadee.”
“I love you too,” she whispers, snuggling into me.
And even though the movie continues to play and she may watch it … I can’t focus on what’s happening on the screen. I’m too deep in my own thoughts, wondering why I’m so dead set on fighting these feelings I have when my kids all seem to adore Tripp Talmage.
When I pull up in front of the house, the boys begin gathering their things, both laughing and joking around the way ten- and twelve-year-old boys do.
“Thank you for taking us to the batting cages tonight, Tripp,” Cane says while he pushes his door open. “It was so fun to kick my brother’s butt in something!”
“Yeah, okay,” Cash utters, climbing out of the back seat. “Thanks, Tripp. But next lesson I hope is on the ice.”
“Can’t take losing, little brother?” Cane harasses his brother shamelessly just as Freya steps out onto the front steps in her pajamas, making her way to the truck.
“Did you boys have fun?” She smiles sweetly. “Looked like it in those videos.”
“It was the best!” Cane chimes up.
“Good,” she answers, looking between the two of them. “Avy is asleep. Why don’t you go in and get ready for bed? I need to talk to Tripp for a minute to figure out your lessons for the next few weeks, Cash.”
If the boys think it’s weird that their mom wants to see me alone, they certainly don’t act like it. They just thank me once more before jogging into the house. Once she sees they’re out of sight, she takes me by surprise when she climbs up in my truck, closing the door behind her.
She’s wearing blue fleece pajamas with white polka dots, looking absolutely beautiful in them too. She shivers slightly, and I press the button for her seat warmer and turn the heat up a bit. It’s November in Maine, and the nights are cold.
“Thank you for taking them to do something that Cane would like tonight.” From the sentiment in her tone, I sense she’s really appreciative. “I’m sure that meant a lot to him.”
“Heseemed to have a lot of fun.” My lip turns up. “Especially kicking his brother’s ass in batting. Hell, he kicked mine too.”
“I bet he liked that.” She laughs, but soon, it dies in her throat. “I’m sorry I was such a head case the other day.”
The energy shifts in the truck as she grows quiet, and I’m not entirely sure what to even say or do—scared I’ll do something wrong and push her further away.
“It’s okay,” I say, playing it safe. “I understand this is a fucked-up situation we’re in. Sorry for making it more complicated for you.”
Her hands wring together, and I wish more than anything that I could just grab her hand and hold it tightly. I wish I could pull her onto my lap and kiss her worries away too.
Or fuck her worries away …
“My kids really like you,” she whispers. “And I guess I just … don’t want to do anything that stops you from wanting to be around them.” She turns her head just enough to give me a once-over. “Sex and feelings will inevitably do just that. I’ll get attached. You’ll move on.” She looks at me, embarrassed. “You get the picture.”
“Darlin’, if I was planning on moving on, I wouldn’t have married you,” I drawl, reaching over and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m not going anywhere, Freya. Not until you make me anyway.”
