Page 60 of Don’t Fall For Your Ex-Boyfriend's Brother
“Tripp was keeping something huge from his family, and he needs time to adjust.”
“He hurt me,” I say, the tears slowly falling now.
Willow steps closer. “I know, and he’s going to have to grovel hard for what he said to you, but he will grovel, Millie.”
“I don’t want him to grovel.” I picture Tripp on his knees right here in the parking lot, groveling, and what I would say to him if he did.
Willow smiles. “He needs to grovel for you, Millie. You’re worth it.” And then Willow does something unexpected, she hugs me. “You’re worth the fight, Millie.”
I appreciate her words. I really do, but I don’t think what Tripp and I have is fixable. Even with an obscene amount of groveling.
I told him about my family, and how sad I feel for not having a family of my own to turn too.
The tears fall harder and faster as I spot Tripp stepping out of Atta Boy’s, his familiar silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of the bar’s neon sign. My heart clenches, a knot of emotions tightening in my chest. I break the hug I’ve been holding with Willow, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell her, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to sound casual. Before Tripp can close the distance between us, I hop into my car, slamming the door shut and fumbling with the keys. My hands shake as I start the engine, pulling out of the parking lot so quickly that the tires kick up a small cloud of dust behind me. The Atwood’s, and everything else in Magnolia Ridge, disappear in my rearview mirror, but the weight in my chest refuses to lift.
I need time. Time to think. Time to process everything. The sting of Tripp’s presence, the unresolved feelings that swirl inside me like a storm. It’s too much, too fast.
My phone pings on the seat beside me, and I glance down. Of course it’s a text from Tripp. My stomach twists at the sight of his name on the screen. Without hesitation, I turn the phone off, unable to face whatever words he’s sent. I toss it onto the passenger seat and grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to steady my breathing as I drive out of Magnolia Ridge, the town fading into the distance behind me.
I don’t know where I’m headed, but I can’t stay here. Not with him. Not with everything so raw. I can’t face anyone right now.
The interstate stretches out before me, a lifeline pulling me away from the chaos inside my head. I take the exit toward Saint Pierce, the familiar road offering a strange kind of solace. The soft hum of the tires on the pavement is the only sound that breaks the heavy silence inside the car, but even that feels distant. All I know is that I need space.
"I miss you," I whisper, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the cemetery. My eyes fix on the headstone, its inscription softened by years of weathering, though her name still stands out like a beacon in my heart. "I miss you so much."
The wind rustles through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the bittersweet memory of her favorite perfume. I sink to my knees, the damp earth beneath me a cold reminder of the finality of it all. My fingers trace the edges of her name carved into the stone, as if somehow touching it could bring her back to me, even for a moment.
The tears I thought I had cried out earlier come rushing back with a vengeance, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. I don’t fight them this time. They fall freely, hot and relentless, as though they have been waiting for this exact moment to break free. Each sob that escapes my lips feels like a piece of my heart shattering all over again, like the grief is fresh and raw, no matter how many years have passed.
The silence around me is heavy, broken only by my quiet weeping and the distant chirping of birds—life moving on, as it always does. But here, in this place, time feels frozen. It's just me, the cold stone, and the aching void that she left behind.
"I need you," I choke out, my voice cracking under the weight of the words. "I don’t know how to do this without you."
I don’t know how to do any of it. The confusion and doubt swirl in my mind like a storm I can’t escape. I thought Tripp and I were in a good place. We laughed, we dreamed, we made plans for a future that seemed so sure. We understood each other, or at least I thought we did. We were building something solid together, weren’t we? Now, sitting here at my mother’s grave, I’m not so sure of anything anymore.
Maybe Tripp never saw us the way I did. Maybe, to him, I was just a prize—a shiny, unattainable trophy he could win to boost his ego. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut as I sit, knees tucked to my chest, by my mother’s grave.
She would know what to say. She would know how to fix this. I glance up at the sky, the clouds thick and heavy, as though they’re holding all the answers I can’t reach.
“I thought with Tripp, I’d always have someone by my side. I thought I was safe with him,” I whisper, my voice breaking under the weight of my confession. "I was so stupid." The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they feel true. How could I have been so blind, so naïve to believe in something that never really existed? I was an idiot. A complete idiot.
And there’s no one to blame but me.
“You’re not stupid,” a voice says from behind me, gentle but firm. A voice I’ve come to recognize all too well in the weeks we’ve spent together, through shared late-night conversations and stolen moments.
I freeze, my heart lurching in my chest as I turn to see Tripp standing there, his eyes dark and rimmed with a rawness I haven’t seen before. He looks like he’s been crying too. I quickly scramble to my feet, brushing the dirt and grass from my pants, trying to compose myself even though the hurt is still so fresh.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask, my voice barely steady. My pulse quickens, and I feel exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. His eyes lock with mine, searching for something, but I don’t know if I have any answers left to give.
“I followed you. Millie, when you ran out of Atta Boy I felt like my whole world crashed and burned. I didn’t know what to do so I froze.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh,” is all I can say.
He inches closer. “I saw Brock run after you, and next thing I knew my whole family was in my face. My mother was laying into me about what I said to you. Callum looked like he wanted to murder me, and Anya and Hartford were telling me to chase after you.”
“Oh.” It’s like my brain is broken and can’t come up with anything better to say to him. I want to scream at him. I want to tell him how badly he hurt me.