Conflicted Love
Page 14
The ride home was quiet apart from my sniffling and shaking. We pulled up to the house and I pulled the jacket tightly around my cold body. “Keep in touch, won’t you?” I smiled shakily knowing he was leaving the following day.
“Of course, honey. You’ll be alright here?” he asked looking unsure.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Drive safe.” Leaning over, I gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before I pushed the door open and stepped out into the rain.
I’d had time to reflect on the drive home and I’d quickly decided I had every right to be mad. He didn’t say a damn word when his whore had been cruel to me, and that showed me exactly what I meant to him.
I put the key in the front door lock as it swung open. I stumbled falling right into Trip’s arms. Quickly righting myself, I pushed past him. “I’m just getting a few things then I’ll be out of your way.”
“Stop,” he ground out, hands balled into fists by his side. Ignoring his demand, I kept walking up to my room to grab as many things as I could, as quickly as I could, and prayed to God I wouldn’t run into his tart along the way. I wasn’t sure I could take it if I did.
“Teeny!” he yelled up the stairs. “Will you fucking stop for a second?” The thud of his bare feet pounding on the stairs urged me to close my door and start ripping clothes from their hangers. Within seconds, it was shoved open slamming into the wall behind it, a fuming Trip in the doorway.
“I’m just getting my stuff. Please, just leave me be,” I told him in a hushed voice. I was wet, tired, mad and hurt. I didn’t have any energy left to give him.
“You aren’t leaving,” he told me as a soft fluffy towel was wrapped around my shoulders. “You’re cold and wet. You’ll get sick.”
Really? That comment seemed to perk me up a bit because the next words from my mouth where laced with sarcasm. “Well, fuck a duck, Trip. Who’d have known I’d get cold after standing out in the rain. On. My. Own.”
“Shit. I’m sorry!” he bit out rubbing the towel vigorously over my arms to try to warm me up. “I was a prick and I’m sorry, alright. I’m fucking sorry,” He whispered the last part of his apology.
“That’s great, but I wouldn’t want to keep you from your date, and I sure as fuck don’t want to be here for it, so I’ll just go.” I took a step forward and pulled out my suitcase from the bottom of the closet dumping it on my bed.
“I took her home. I was never going to sleep with her. I just wanted, shit, I just wanted you to see,” he rushed out running his hands through his hair with agitation.
“You wanted me to see what, Trip? You wanted me to see me put in my place? You wanted to see me humiliated in front of our friends? She was right, you know? I’m just the chick you knocked up and I sure as shit heard your silence loud and fucking clear.” Damn it. I was tired. I needed to hurry up and get out of his space. The anger started to drain out of me, and all I was left with was a bone-deep tiredness that could only be cured with days of sleep and pints of Ben & Jerry’s.
“You can’t go,” he whispered. “I—well, I didn’t want you to go back to that dump, so I convinced the landlord to break your lease,” he rushed out, sounding worried.
“You what?” I ground out. “You’d better be fucking with me. Tell me you’re fucking with me, Trip.” He wouldn’t. He—shit, he totally would. The look on his face confirmed that he had. I closed my eyes tightly and rubbed at my temples, the beginnings of a killer headache kicking in.
“It was a dump. You can’t live there. Not you or our baby. You just can’t.” He was worried I was about to lose my temper at him, but I didn’t have it in me. I would have eventually moved, but it was up to me to do it not him.
I had a bit in savings still, and hopefully, he’d been able to get my security deposit back. I’d have to find a job—Shit— I had to work with him. I couldn’t let Scarlett down. I couldn’t do that to her or to me. I wanted that job; it would make a better life for the baby. For that reason and that reason alone, I had to swallow my pride, again, and stay with Trip. You could bet your bottom dollar I wouldn’t be staying in his bed though.
“Can you please leave me alone? I’m cold and I need a shower. And I most definitely some sleep.” Not giving him a choice, I grabbed some pajamas and went to the bathroom closing and locking the door behind me.
Sliding down the wall of the shower with the hot water pounding down on me, I stared at the pile of ruined red silk that was my bridesmaid dress wondering how the hell I was going to fix what I’d broken.
In retrospect, the entire thing could have been avoided if I hadn’t insisted and pushed him to bring a date. It was a stupid thing to do, but I needed to distance myself from him before he hurt me further. Before I hurt myself. It was time to call it quits with Trip. If I could pull back and keep my feelings to myself, I might be able to survive this. I hated that I was turning into a drama queen, and not all of it could be blamed on raging hormones. No. A big part of it could be blamed on my feelings for him. The feelings I had been trying to ignore, which were blowing up in my face. The alternative was even worse. Fall in love with him and have him go back to his playboy ways, or worse still, have me fall into a pit of postpartum depression and end up just like my mother only to have Trip leave…just like my father did.
Nope. It was time to pull up my big girl panties, zip up my boots and kick my own ass into gear. First, though, I needed to cry. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat in the bottom of his shower and cried my heart out, letting it all go.
Only after I stepped out of the shower with red-rimmed eyes, I irrationally decided what the next step was. I reached into the cabinet and pulled out the box of hair dye I’d found when I unpacked all my toiletries. Trip was attracted to blonde bimbo types; well, this chick wasn’t about to be appealing to him anymore.
Chapter Fourteen
Teeny
Stomping down the steps to his ridiculous penis extension truck, I grabbed my coat and purse slamming the door on the way out of the house.
“Freakin’ ass,” I muttered while roughly shoving the key into the lock and climbing inside the monstrosity.
Finally, I fell asleep after a gruelling day of sickness, back ache and irritation, only to be rudely awakened by my phone ringing. I answered to a rambling Trip going on about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Tinkerbelle and a cucumber.
“I should just leave his ass there,” I grumbled pulling out of the driveway.
Not ten minutes later, I pulled up at the address I was given and parked on the curb. Music and rowdy voices floated from the windows as I made my way up the path to the run-down house. The door wide open. I walked in and started scanning the room for Trip. Anyone would think they’d stepped back in time to a high school party the way these idiots were carousing. Girls in guys’ laps, people making out in the corners, red cups spread around the tables and a group of people playing beer pong and smoking what smelt like pot.
Stepping over a body on the floor, I moved through the crowd making it to the kitchen before I spotted Trip.
“Oh, fuck off!” I said to no one in particular.
My temper instantly flared. He sat on a bar stool with skanks falling all over him. Not even a joke. Four trashy-looking bitches were virtually climbing onto his lap running their hands over his chest and shoulders. They were grinding up against his leg like dogs in heat to the pounding music. He simply sat there, not stopping them, not looking like he cared one way or the other that they were rubbing their dirty STD-infested cracks all over him.
I stormed over to him grabbing a handful of badly dyed red hair attached to the closest skank. She let out a squeak of protest when I pulled her out of my way. Trip’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. “You called me out here at 3 am to what? Take you for a chlamydia test?” I snarled at him more than a little tired and way the hell pissed at having to drive over just to see this kind of shit. If I was being honest, it stung a little to witness his antics. I should have known he wouldn’t change.
“Princess, wait!” Trip called out as I turned away and stormed out of the house. Screw him. He could find another way home. I made it as far as the mailbox before a large hand clamped down on my arm. “Get off me, Trip!” I yelled turning my head only to find it wasn’t Trip at all but some wasted man with a creepy predatory smile towering over me. My stomach lurched at the strong smell of tequila and puke on his breath. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and an eerie feeling washed over me. My hand instantly came up to my stomach in a protective motion. There was something wrong with this guy. The pupils of his eyes were dilated and a light sheen of sweat covered his face.
“Where you off to in such a hurry, lady?” he slurred in my face. I gagged at the intensity of the putrid spittle he was covering my face with.
“You should probably let me go. Now.” I looked pointedly at his grip on my arm. This guy was off his rocker and I was alone in the dark and pregnant.
“I like ‘em feisty. Let’s—” His words were cut short. Before I could blink, he was on the ground, a very pissed off Trip pummeling his fists into the guy’s face. I stood staring as it happened in slow motion. I wasn’t about to stop him. First of all, I was pregnant and a fight was no place for baby bump, and secondly, the dude needed to learn a lesson. There might have also been the fact that it was almost chivalrous of Trip to ditch his tarts and defend me. Trip reared his arm back and landed it on creeper’s nose with a sickening crunch.
"Get off of him! He's already out! Stop!" A huge muscle-bound guy grabbed Trip and dragged him off the unconscious moron. Puffing and panting, Trip ground out “Get the fuck off me. I’m done.” Shrugging off his captor, he stalked toward me, shirt ripped and sweaty. Blood dripping from his eyebrow.
Trip stopped right in front of me, still fuming. He looked me up and down running his hands over me where he could, and then wrapped his arms around me, crushing me firmly against him. “You okay? He hurt you?” I smacked him away remembering the skanks that he was letting touch him. My anger swelled. I was way the fuck pissed off for a bucket load of reasons. None of which I was going to address with a bunch of partygoers looking on.
“I’m fine. Get your stupid ass in the truck. I’m leaving,” I snapped stomping to where I’d parked. Trip followed behind me and jumped up into the passenger’s seat. He’d barely closed his door when I took off from the curb with a slight squeal of the tires.
Slamming the truck into park, I climbed down and stormed up to the house. The entire ride home had been silent. I’d kept my focus on the road and Trip had sat stiff as a board beside me, not uttering a word, and barely moving a muscle except to clean the blood from his knuckles and face with the baby wipes I had stashed in the glove compartment. I made quick work of letting us inside and headed for my room. I wasn’t in the mood to hash shit out with his royal assholeness. The thumping of boots on the stairs behind me alerted me to the fact Trip was behind me. I got as far as the bathroom door when he spoke, “You’re not talkin’ to me now?”
“Of course, honey. You’ll be alright here?” he asked looking unsure.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Drive safe.” Leaning over, I gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before I pushed the door open and stepped out into the rain.
I’d had time to reflect on the drive home and I’d quickly decided I had every right to be mad. He didn’t say a damn word when his whore had been cruel to me, and that showed me exactly what I meant to him.
I put the key in the front door lock as it swung open. I stumbled falling right into Trip’s arms. Quickly righting myself, I pushed past him. “I’m just getting a few things then I’ll be out of your way.”
“Stop,” he ground out, hands balled into fists by his side. Ignoring his demand, I kept walking up to my room to grab as many things as I could, as quickly as I could, and prayed to God I wouldn’t run into his tart along the way. I wasn’t sure I could take it if I did.
“Teeny!” he yelled up the stairs. “Will you fucking stop for a second?” The thud of his bare feet pounding on the stairs urged me to close my door and start ripping clothes from their hangers. Within seconds, it was shoved open slamming into the wall behind it, a fuming Trip in the doorway.
“I’m just getting my stuff. Please, just leave me be,” I told him in a hushed voice. I was wet, tired, mad and hurt. I didn’t have any energy left to give him.
“You aren’t leaving,” he told me as a soft fluffy towel was wrapped around my shoulders. “You’re cold and wet. You’ll get sick.”
Really? That comment seemed to perk me up a bit because the next words from my mouth where laced with sarcasm. “Well, fuck a duck, Trip. Who’d have known I’d get cold after standing out in the rain. On. My. Own.”
“Shit. I’m sorry!” he bit out rubbing the towel vigorously over my arms to try to warm me up. “I was a prick and I’m sorry, alright. I’m fucking sorry,” He whispered the last part of his apology.
“That’s great, but I wouldn’t want to keep you from your date, and I sure as fuck don’t want to be here for it, so I’ll just go.” I took a step forward and pulled out my suitcase from the bottom of the closet dumping it on my bed.
“I took her home. I was never going to sleep with her. I just wanted, shit, I just wanted you to see,” he rushed out running his hands through his hair with agitation.
“You wanted me to see what, Trip? You wanted me to see me put in my place? You wanted to see me humiliated in front of our friends? She was right, you know? I’m just the chick you knocked up and I sure as shit heard your silence loud and fucking clear.” Damn it. I was tired. I needed to hurry up and get out of his space. The anger started to drain out of me, and all I was left with was a bone-deep tiredness that could only be cured with days of sleep and pints of Ben & Jerry’s.
“You can’t go,” he whispered. “I—well, I didn’t want you to go back to that dump, so I convinced the landlord to break your lease,” he rushed out, sounding worried.
“You what?” I ground out. “You’d better be fucking with me. Tell me you’re fucking with me, Trip.” He wouldn’t. He—shit, he totally would. The look on his face confirmed that he had. I closed my eyes tightly and rubbed at my temples, the beginnings of a killer headache kicking in.
“It was a dump. You can’t live there. Not you or our baby. You just can’t.” He was worried I was about to lose my temper at him, but I didn’t have it in me. I would have eventually moved, but it was up to me to do it not him.
I had a bit in savings still, and hopefully, he’d been able to get my security deposit back. I’d have to find a job—Shit— I had to work with him. I couldn’t let Scarlett down. I couldn’t do that to her or to me. I wanted that job; it would make a better life for the baby. For that reason and that reason alone, I had to swallow my pride, again, and stay with Trip. You could bet your bottom dollar I wouldn’t be staying in his bed though.
“Can you please leave me alone? I’m cold and I need a shower. And I most definitely some sleep.” Not giving him a choice, I grabbed some pajamas and went to the bathroom closing and locking the door behind me.
Sliding down the wall of the shower with the hot water pounding down on me, I stared at the pile of ruined red silk that was my bridesmaid dress wondering how the hell I was going to fix what I’d broken.
In retrospect, the entire thing could have been avoided if I hadn’t insisted and pushed him to bring a date. It was a stupid thing to do, but I needed to distance myself from him before he hurt me further. Before I hurt myself. It was time to call it quits with Trip. If I could pull back and keep my feelings to myself, I might be able to survive this. I hated that I was turning into a drama queen, and not all of it could be blamed on raging hormones. No. A big part of it could be blamed on my feelings for him. The feelings I had been trying to ignore, which were blowing up in my face. The alternative was even worse. Fall in love with him and have him go back to his playboy ways, or worse still, have me fall into a pit of postpartum depression and end up just like my mother only to have Trip leave…just like my father did.
Nope. It was time to pull up my big girl panties, zip up my boots and kick my own ass into gear. First, though, I needed to cry. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat in the bottom of his shower and cried my heart out, letting it all go.
Only after I stepped out of the shower with red-rimmed eyes, I irrationally decided what the next step was. I reached into the cabinet and pulled out the box of hair dye I’d found when I unpacked all my toiletries. Trip was attracted to blonde bimbo types; well, this chick wasn’t about to be appealing to him anymore.
Chapter Fourteen
Teeny
Stomping down the steps to his ridiculous penis extension truck, I grabbed my coat and purse slamming the door on the way out of the house.
“Freakin’ ass,” I muttered while roughly shoving the key into the lock and climbing inside the monstrosity.
Finally, I fell asleep after a gruelling day of sickness, back ache and irritation, only to be rudely awakened by my phone ringing. I answered to a rambling Trip going on about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Tinkerbelle and a cucumber.
“I should just leave his ass there,” I grumbled pulling out of the driveway.
Not ten minutes later, I pulled up at the address I was given and parked on the curb. Music and rowdy voices floated from the windows as I made my way up the path to the run-down house. The door wide open. I walked in and started scanning the room for Trip. Anyone would think they’d stepped back in time to a high school party the way these idiots were carousing. Girls in guys’ laps, people making out in the corners, red cups spread around the tables and a group of people playing beer pong and smoking what smelt like pot.
Stepping over a body on the floor, I moved through the crowd making it to the kitchen before I spotted Trip.
“Oh, fuck off!” I said to no one in particular.
My temper instantly flared. He sat on a bar stool with skanks falling all over him. Not even a joke. Four trashy-looking bitches were virtually climbing onto his lap running their hands over his chest and shoulders. They were grinding up against his leg like dogs in heat to the pounding music. He simply sat there, not stopping them, not looking like he cared one way or the other that they were rubbing their dirty STD-infested cracks all over him.
I stormed over to him grabbing a handful of badly dyed red hair attached to the closest skank. She let out a squeak of protest when I pulled her out of my way. Trip’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. “You called me out here at 3 am to what? Take you for a chlamydia test?” I snarled at him more than a little tired and way the hell pissed at having to drive over just to see this kind of shit. If I was being honest, it stung a little to witness his antics. I should have known he wouldn’t change.
“Princess, wait!” Trip called out as I turned away and stormed out of the house. Screw him. He could find another way home. I made it as far as the mailbox before a large hand clamped down on my arm. “Get off me, Trip!” I yelled turning my head only to find it wasn’t Trip at all but some wasted man with a creepy predatory smile towering over me. My stomach lurched at the strong smell of tequila and puke on his breath. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and an eerie feeling washed over me. My hand instantly came up to my stomach in a protective motion. There was something wrong with this guy. The pupils of his eyes were dilated and a light sheen of sweat covered his face.
“Where you off to in such a hurry, lady?” he slurred in my face. I gagged at the intensity of the putrid spittle he was covering my face with.
“You should probably let me go. Now.” I looked pointedly at his grip on my arm. This guy was off his rocker and I was alone in the dark and pregnant.
“I like ‘em feisty. Let’s—” His words were cut short. Before I could blink, he was on the ground, a very pissed off Trip pummeling his fists into the guy’s face. I stood staring as it happened in slow motion. I wasn’t about to stop him. First of all, I was pregnant and a fight was no place for baby bump, and secondly, the dude needed to learn a lesson. There might have also been the fact that it was almost chivalrous of Trip to ditch his tarts and defend me. Trip reared his arm back and landed it on creeper’s nose with a sickening crunch.
"Get off of him! He's already out! Stop!" A huge muscle-bound guy grabbed Trip and dragged him off the unconscious moron. Puffing and panting, Trip ground out “Get the fuck off me. I’m done.” Shrugging off his captor, he stalked toward me, shirt ripped and sweaty. Blood dripping from his eyebrow.
Trip stopped right in front of me, still fuming. He looked me up and down running his hands over me where he could, and then wrapped his arms around me, crushing me firmly against him. “You okay? He hurt you?” I smacked him away remembering the skanks that he was letting touch him. My anger swelled. I was way the fuck pissed off for a bucket load of reasons. None of which I was going to address with a bunch of partygoers looking on.
“I’m fine. Get your stupid ass in the truck. I’m leaving,” I snapped stomping to where I’d parked. Trip followed behind me and jumped up into the passenger’s seat. He’d barely closed his door when I took off from the curb with a slight squeal of the tires.
Slamming the truck into park, I climbed down and stormed up to the house. The entire ride home had been silent. I’d kept my focus on the road and Trip had sat stiff as a board beside me, not uttering a word, and barely moving a muscle except to clean the blood from his knuckles and face with the baby wipes I had stashed in the glove compartment. I made quick work of letting us inside and headed for my room. I wasn’t in the mood to hash shit out with his royal assholeness. The thumping of boots on the stairs behind me alerted me to the fact Trip was behind me. I got as far as the bathroom door when he spoke, “You’re not talkin’ to me now?”
