27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Tripp

The stopped traffic is taunting me. As I sit in my unmoving car, my fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel, I think about the wasted time. It's the middle of the week, nowhere near the weekend, yet the roads are jam-packed. The minutes tick by, just like the stop-and-go traffic.

I hate that I'm missing a bonus hyperbaric chamber session but know that spending time with Lo is a different type of "worth it."

I'm exhausted. I stayed late at the training facility yesterday and my muscles are paying for it today. I mentally put TRX bands on the no-list for bonus workouts. It's been a while since I've been this sore.

I'm talking to my mom, one of my favorite ways to pass the time on a drive.

"Where did you end up, Tripp?" She knows something is up as I pull into Willow's driveway.

"What do you mean?" I try to bluff.

"You know what I mean. I just heard you whisper some hush-hush words to what sounded like a security gate."

The guilt creeps up my neck, giving me goosebumps. I hate keeping things from my mom.

"I'm at Willow's. We've been sort of—"

"Seeing each other? I know. I wanted you to tell me."

"How did you know?" My brain runs through how I could've let this slip .

"You left your bonus phone on the end table while you were making one of those disgusting green juices the other day. Saw her name pop up." Her smile is clear as glass over the phone. I'm amazed she waited this long to ask me. That was days ago. "She seems lovely."

"She is. It's been a little over a month." There's a rock in my stomach. More guilt. "Listen, Mom, I'm sorry—"

"Don't you dare apologize, Tripp James." Is there anything more severe than a mom using your middle name? "You're allowed to live and have your own secrets. Now, get off the phone. I love you." She hangs up before I even have time to register the conversation.

My phone screen goes dark in my lap. I smile, feeling lighter now that my mom knows.

I approach Willow's door, each step slow and sore. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, eager to reveal itself. In my hands, I carry a small box containing tiramisu from our favorite restaurant, a sweet reminder of our first date. Willow had insisted I walk in when I arrived, so that's what I do.

With a gentle push, the door swings open, revealing the warmth of her home, her space. The vaulted ceilings and open floor plan could feel empty, or lacking, but not with Willow. Music plays louder than you'd expect, and when I see Willow dancing in the kitchen, the frustration from the terrible traffic and the guilt of keeping this secret from my mom is gone. My mood flips and it's like I'm a little lighter just by being in her presence—how does she do that?

I close my eyes, breathe in, and whatever she's cooking makes my mouth water. A smile stretches my lips as I let the door close.

She hears the door shut, stops dancing, and snaps her eyes to me. Willow's hair is up in a bun, messy, pieces of hair framing her face .

"Just in time. The stir fry is almost done," she says while turning the stove off and wiping her fingers on a towel that's thrown over her shoulder.

I walk up to her and can't help but kiss her. I wrap my arms around her lower back and pick her up a little bit, which makes her giggle, as she's kissing me back.

"Do it again," I say, my nose still touching hers.

"Do what again?"

"Make that sound," I practically plead and put my lips back on hers, a touch more forceful than before. I feel her lips smile into mine as she quietly laughs in response.

"I'm so glad you're here," Willow says, her arms wrapped around my neck.

Reluctantly, I set her down.

"Let's eat." She reaches for my hand and leads me to the kitchen table.

I do my best to keep my mind out of the gutter, but her ass sways in front of me as she leads me to the kitchen table.

After two plates of stir fry, with fresh vegetables and a ginger sesame sauce, I'm full and completely content.

"Thank you for cooking," I say, scooping the last bit of sauce and some rogue rice on my fork.

"No problem. This is one of my go-tos. I eat it probably once a week."

I stand up to take my plate to the sink and my muscles ache.

"What's wrong?" Willow asks as she watches me walk.

"It's nothing. Sore from a workout. A workout I will not be doing again for a very long time," I joke .

"You know what's good for sore muscles?" Willow asks, her lips pulled up on one side in a mischievous grin. "Hot tub." She tilts her head to the patio door.

"That sounds amazing, but I don't have a suit."

"You can wear those shorts or whatever you have underneath them," she says nonchalantly. "If you think about it, swim shorts are just shorts,"

There's nothing I wouldn't do to get in a hot tub with Willow right now.

"Let's do it."

Willow points me to a bathroom to get a towel and change. Essentially, strip.

I take everything off, besides my briefs. I fold and set my clothes on the counter and look at myself in the mirror. I'm surprised by my own reflection: lips pressed together, eyes wider than field goal posts, and my shoulders damn near my jaw.

Fuck, I'm nervous .

I turn on the water and take a deep breath. I hold onto it for a few seconds before loudly sighing it out. My hands cup together, holding cool water in between my fingers and palms. I splash water on my face, a few times, before wiping the water away; my cheeks are hot to the touch.

I open the door to the hallway and listen for Willow. Nothing. I peek out far enough to see her out on the patio.

I close the bathroom door and roll my shoulders up, down, and back.

"Tripp, you nervous bastard, you can do this," my voice cracks as I fixate on where the tile floor meets the rug I'm standing on. I sound pathetic. I do another shoulder roll and tip my chin up and look at myself in the mirror, pointing at my reflection, "This was her idea. If she didn't want you here, she wouldn't invite you in the hot tub wearing only your fucking underwear."

My hands go into my hair, gripping it, taking another deep breath and sighing it out.

"You can do this," I say to myself one last time as I wrap the towel around me.

I walk out to the patio with a towel wrapped around my waist, only my black briefs on underneath. My heart thuds in my chest, getting faster with each step I take toward Willow.

She's already in the hot tub, a black bikini top enveloping her breasts, and I'm trying not to stare. We catch each other's eyes, both wide, just for a second. Cups of iced tea are on the ledge, in plastic cups, of course.

After losing the towel and catching Willow smirk at me from my peripheral vision, I step into the water. The water immediately feels like heaven on my sore muscles. I slowly sink into a spot across from Willow, the only thing out of the water is my head.

"Ughhhhhh. This was a great idea," I say as I lean back and let the jets hit my muscles.

"Told you," Willow says, taking a drink of her iced tea, and then slipping into the water just a little further.

Our feet and legs touch as we both kind of spread out. We sit in silence for a few minutes with nothing but the sound of the water whooshing around us.

"How are you feeling?" Willow asks and I know it's not about my muscles.

"Pretty good. It usually takes a few days to bounce back from a panic attack, but this wasn't as bad." I know exactly why too. The way she was there for me, talking to me until I fell asleep. I don't know if she'll ever realize what that meant.

"That's good."

"I've been seeing a therapist, so we'll talk about it at my next appointment."

"I'm proud of you," Willow says, and it catches me off guard.

"For what?" I scoff.

"For taking care of yourself. For talking about it. For calling me and not just suffering. A lot of people don't do any of those things."

I look down at my hands floating on the surface of the water. I know she's right. I'm still bothered that this is something I must work through. I thought I'd already done this but that's the thing about mental health, it's never ending.

"Need another distraction?" she says, interrupting my internal pity party. Before I can say anything, she's making her way over to me. I don't know if I'd consider myself lucky, but I don't know how else I ended up in a hot tub with Willow—my fucking dream girl.

"I always want your distractions," I say, my voice low.

Willow takes her hands and puts them on my chest before reaching up around my neck. Her nose is almost touching mine, her eyes the color of dark honey, and she grins at me before pressing into a kiss. There is nothing else in the world besides her and this water.

"This is the best distraction," I say in between kisses. Her lips are soft and full.

When she puts her hands on my shoulders, making the space to pull her legs up and straddle me, I'm aware of how hard I am. Fuck. She sinks in further, deeper, feeling my dick through the fabric, and she groans.

I am a fucking goner.