Until Autumn Falls

by Elana Johnson

  He took a deep breath, getting some of that fresh California sea air and some of Hilary’s floral perfume and a hint of whipped cream left over from the pie. He loved this town. Loved his life. Loved the woman in his arms.

  He blinked at the realization, a blip of panic joining his peace and contentment. The last woman he’d loved had crushed his heart. He pushed the fear away. He was tired of being alone, of avoiding activities like this because he was alone. He’d taken a risk by starting a relationship with Hilary, and he tilted his head toward her. She was worth it.

  “What?” she asked, glancing at him too.

  “Just thinking about you.” He smiled.

  “What about me?”

  “How pretty you are.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “How strong. How beautiful, both inside and out.”

  She smiled, ducked her head, and leaned it on his shoulder. “I think you’re pretty great too.”

  “I want to tell you something.” The band stopped playing, and he figured he had about twenty minutes before the fireworks started.

  “Okay.” Hilary trailed her fingers over his forearm.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve been out with in over five years.” Tripp needed a drink, and he suddenly craved more than water. “I fell in love with my last girlfriend. Her name was Erin. Her family owned most of Redwood Bay back in the day.”

  “Is her brother Eli?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “He’s the one who stood me up that night I saw you in the sports bar.”

  Tripp smiled. “Small world, I guess.”

  “What happened with Erin?”

  Tripp exhaled. “We dated for a long time. I was working for my father—he used to have a fishing boat here in town. My parents wanted to move, and he sold the boat. I…I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I’d grown up building things, fixing cars, and fishing. I worked for my dad, because I always had.”

  Tripp’s memories tangled. “The short of it was Erin’s family had money and a lot of it. I wasn’t good enough for her, and everyone in town knew it. I didn’t even have a job, and I could see it was becoming a problem for her. So I went up to Seattle and I bought my own fishing boat. Betsy Ross.”

  “Erin didn’t like Betsy Ross.” Hilary wasn’t asking.

  “She did, in theory. It was a sign that I could make my own living, support her and a family.” He cleared his throat. “But it wasn’t enough. I should’ve known that. Maybe I was blind because I was in love with her. I don’t know. I took her out on Betsy Ross, after she’d asked me to several times. She broke up with me that night, said all kinds of hurtful things, left town the next morning.”

  Exhaustion wove through Tripp and he fell silent. Most of the words were out now, but a few more lingered in the back of his throat.

  “I’m sorry, Tripp.”

  “It was really hard to let you on Betsy Ross,” he murmured. “I haven’t taken a woman or let anyone—besides tourists—on my boat in those five years. Only Jared, and only because I was drowning in my business.”

  “You have a business now.” She met his eye. “How did that happen?”

  He exhaled. “Well, Erin was cruel, but some of what she said stuck with me. She was right, in some ways. I was drifting. I didn’t know what to do with my life, though I had a college education. She’d said that I had big plans but no backbone to make them a reality. So I got myself clean—” He cleared his throat. “I had a drinking problem for a few months after Erin left.”

  A single pulse of shame ran through him, but he tamped it down. He didn’t drink eight or ten or twelve beers in a single night anymore. Didn’t even want to.

  Hilary watched him with such compassion as she slipped her fingers between his and squeezed. He exhaled, steeling his nerves to keep going. “So I got sober, and I got myself down to the bank, and I got a loan to buy my uncle’s abandoned warehouse on the wharf. I fixed it up. I started building boats, like he used to. I started going fishing and selling my catch in town. I ran the office—poorly, I might add—and expanded to deep sea fishing tours. At first, I did it to show her that I could make my dreams a reality. I even thought for a while there that I could get her back.”

  “Did you?”

  “She’s never come back to Redwood Bay,” he said. “I don’t care what she thinks of me anymore. I do well enough, and I learned a lot about myself, and I hired Jared to help me get all the office stuff in place.” Tripp glanced up into the night sky. “I should probably make him a partner. It’s his dad’s place.”

  “But you built it.”

  “He works just as hard as I do. Loves it just as much.” The idea bounced around in Tripp’s head, and he filed it to think about later.

  “We should move out from under the tree,” he said. “The fireworks are about to start.”

  “How do you know they’re about to start?”

  He glanced at his phone lying in the grass next to him. “It’s ten-fifteen. Tradition.” Sure enough, only seconds later, the music started and the first brilliant display of fireworks popped in the night sky.

  Hilary laughed with him as they moved out into the open to have better seats for the show. He lay flat on his back, staring straight up into the sky, with Hilary tucked into his side. With his burdens lifted, Tripp wanted this to be his reality forever, and he would do whatever it took to make it permanent.

  * * * *

  “Did you have fun?” Hilary asked as they strolled the streets. Tripp let her take the lead, but it wasn’t hard to tell that she was heading toward the wharf.

  “You know what? I did.”

  “You said it would be boring.”

  “When you’re single, almost everything in this town is boring.” He stalled as the pier came into view, the boats docked there, the moon shining on the still water in the bay. “Hil, what—?”

  She turned toward him and kissed him. He didn’t detect her usual abandon but a sense of desperation, a vein of anxiety. She pulled back with a sigh and a low laugh. “I thought we’d kiss here before we board Betsy Ross.” She tugged on his hand, but he didn’t budge.

  “Hilary….”

  “I want to board Betsy Ross, Tripp.” She dropped his hand and skipped away from him.

  “You sure?”

  Her hand went to her shawl; her eyes seemed to reflect the moonlight. “I’m sure.”

  Tripp felt like his legs were made of wood as he crossed the distance to the boat, as he followed her on board, as she moved to the stern where the steps led down to the galley and his stateroom.

  “It’s late, Hil,” he said, his voice too loud in the watery silence. “We’re both going to be paying a heavy price in the morning.”

  “We can just sleep here.” She didn’t look at him as she disappeared down the narrow steps. Tripp took a deep breath, unsure of what he actually wanted in this situation. He knew he didn’t want a repeat of being accused of only paying attention to her so he could sleep with her. He also didn’t want to hold back the way he had been the past couple of weeks.

  “Wasn’t holding back,” he muttered to himself. It was simply a different way of approaching a relationship. With the determination to simply follow her lead, he went downstairs. He didn’t find her in the bathroom or the galley, and hope combined with dread as he leaned in the doorway to his stateroom.

  She’d flipped on the lamp, and she stood at the built-in bookcase next to his bed, a picture frame in her hand. “Hilary, what are you doing?”

  “Who are these people?” She tilted the frame toward him.

  He joined her and looked at the picture. “That’s me,” he said. “There in the middle. That’s Polly next to me. And that’s Sophie.” He touched the top of the frame. “I don’t know why Jared isn’t here. I loved that tricycle.” He chuckled.

  “You spent a lot of time with your cousins.”

  “Our moms were sisters,” he said. “They didn’t have any other siblings, and yeah, we grew up together.
Best friends.”

  She replaced the picture on the shelf and turned toward him. He let her slide her hands up his chest, but he made no move to touch her. “Do you want children?” she asked.

  Tripp wasn’t sure how to answer, but the lamplight shining in Hilary’s eyes told him that his answer was important to her.

  “I suppose,” he said. “I haven’t really thought about it. Remember how I haven’t dated anyone for five years?” He tried to smile, but she still seemed so serious. “What’s wrong?”

  “I—well, the doctors don’t think I’ll be able to have children.” She shrugged like it didn’t matter to her, but he could see the disappointment and sorrow in her eyes.

  “There are other ways to get children, if you want them.” Tripp stepped away from her, still processing all she’d lost when her ex-boyfriend had attacked her. His fury grew, along with a keen sense of injustice. Why did she have to suffer so much, for so long?

  He didn’t realize he’d sat on his bed until it shifted when she joined him. She didn’t sit directly next to him, but a couple of feet away. He watched her, trying to give her what she needed: a sense of safety, a place where only love lived.

  “I’m ready,” she said with a slight shakiness in her words. She gestured to her shawl. “I’m ready for you to take it off.” Her chest puffed out; her shoulders rose; she looked like she might throw up.

  Tripp’s fingers twitched toward her, his heart rising to the back of his throat, choking him. “I—I don’t know if I can.”

  She laughed, high-pitched notes that teetered on the edge of mania. “Think how I feel.”

  He reached for the edge of the shawl, where it trailed next to her hip. She flinched, but nodded for him to continue.

  Tripp locked eyes with Hilary as his fingers slid up toward the part of the shawl plastered to her skin. He tried to infuse a sense of calm into himself, even managed to give her a small smile. His eyes dropped to her shoulder, but he felt the heavy weight of her eyes still on his face.

  A simple pull and the shawl lifted from her skin. He flicked the fabric one more time, and it fell away to reveal multiple long, ropy scars extending out the top of her dress, right above her left breast.

  He met her eyes, and a single tear trailed down her right cheek. He wiped it with his thumb and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re beautiful.”

  His fingers dropped to the scars and he traced his fingers over them lovingly. “They’re part of you,” he whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

  “I hate them.”

  “They made you into the kind, hardworking, sexy woman you are.” He dipped his mouth as if to kiss her, but bypassed her lips. He trailed his lips along her jaw, down her neck, kissing right over her heart, directly on top of an intersection of scars. “They brought you to me. Without them, you’d still be in Miami.”

  Her shoulders shook with a sob, and he pulled her onto his lap so he could press his cheek to her chest. “Without them, Hilary, I wouldn’t have been able to fall in love with you.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for her to kiss him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I thought we couldn’t kiss on the boat,” she whispered.

  He didn’t open his eyes. His lips didn’t move when he said, “I’m willing to take the risk.”

  She stared down into his handsome face and saw the strength in the lines of his jaw, saw his hardworking nature, felt the genuine love he held for her.

  Hilary pressed her lips to his. He kissed her slowly, carefully, like he’d never kissed her before and wanted to make sure he got the full experience.

  One hand stayed on her waist, and the other trailed up and down her arm and over her shoulder, feeling more and more of her scar every time. His fingers finally met the fabric of her dress, and he pulled back a tiny bit. “How far do they go?” His lips moved against hers with the question.

  She laced her fingers through his and guided his hand to her back, to the zipper on her dress. He didn’t use it right away, but continued to shower her with slow, passionate kisses. Eventually, he slid the zipper down. She stood up, bringing him with her, and pulled the dress over her chest.

  She stood there, wearing only her bra and panties, that lamplight now much too bright, and watched as he examined her body. With the light behind him and his eyes cast down, she couldn’t quite judge his reaction, but there was love in his touch, and tenderness in his fingertips, and gentleness when he trailed his fingers over the satin of her bra and down to her navel.

  “Hilary,” he breathed. His eyes met hers, and she read the shock within. “I’m so sorry. I think your doctors were right. It’s an absolute miracle you survived.”

  He gathered her close, the warmth from his body permeating his clothes and seeping into her skin. He cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Let me get you some pajamas.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed fish bones, and he kept his eyes on the floor when he handed her the clothes. “I’m gonna go up top for a few minutes.” He moved to the doorway. “You can go to bed if you want. It’s really late.”

  She nodded but he wasn’t looking at her. She knew he needed time to process everything that had happened that night. It was a lot, she knew. The attack, seeing the scars, learning that he’d never be a biological father if he stayed with her.

  She pulled on the way-too-big pajamas and sat on his bed, utterly spent. She wanted Tripp to come back, but she didn’t want to ask him to. Feeling irrational and like maybe he’d left the boat completely, she stared at her hands.

  What to do now?

  She’d felt like this before. When she’d woken up in the hospital. When she’d completed six months of the most intense physical therapy someone should have to do. She’d learned to walk again, and walk without a limp. She’d learned to style her hair so it fell evenly over the scar running across the back of her skull. She’d learned how to love again.

  And what would he do now?

  “Hey.”

  She glanced up to find Tripp leaning against the doorway in that sexy way he had. Tears pressed behind her eyes, but she didn’t let them out. She extended her arms like she was hugging someone, and he flew into them.

  “Stay with me,” she whispered, sliding over to make room for him on the narrow twin bed. “Stay with me.”

  He wrapped her in his strong arms, creating a circle where nothing dangerous and damaging could touch her. She sighed, smiled, and shut her eyes, his pulse beating in a strong rhythm against her cheek.

  * * * *

  When she woke, Tripp’s place next to her radiated a chill. He’d gone, leaving her alone in his bed, wearing his pajamas. Hilary tried to remember where she’d put her phone, tried to see anything in the blackness surrounding her.

  She couldn’t. This darkness was absolute. Once her panic subsided, she realized Betsy Ross was moving. Tripp must’ve set an alarm and gotten them headed out to sea, unwilling to miss a day of fishing, even after such an emotional evening.

  Hilary turned onto her side and pressed her face into his pillow. The scent of his hair, his skin, his cologne seeped into her awareness and she sank back into sleep.

  The next time she woke, it was because Tripp had touched her shoulder and said her name. “You’re going to miss the sunrise, baby,” he said softly. “You wanna come up?”

  She smiled at the deep sound of his voice. “Only if you kiss me good morning.”

  “Oh, uh, we already kissed on the boat,” he said. “And she’s moving now, and—”

  Hilary giggled, content to stay snuggled under the warm blankets. “So you’ve found a work-around to the no-kissing-on-the-boat rule. She can be docked, is that it?”

  “About.” In the next moment, he snapped on the lamp.

  She protested and buried her face under the pillow. “Too bright.”

  “Come see the sunrise. I have coffee on and I’ll make you some toast whenever you want.”

  “Bread and butter,” Hilary said, a smil
e oozing over her face. “A man after my own heart.”

  He removed the pillow, giving her the chance to squint into his face. “If all it takes is bread and butter, I’ll stock up.” He grinned. “Now come on, lazy bones. It’s almost five o’clock.”

  She groaned but followed him up to the deck. The sky still held a shade of gray, but only ten minutes later, the oranges and pinks and reds stained the horizon.

  Tripp handed her a cup of coffee and leaned on the railing next to her. The boat moved through the water effortlessly, her engine chugging along just fine despite the kissing that had happened the night before. Hilary smiled into her mug, a sense of peace pulling through her that she’d never felt before.

  It felt nice to be out on the ocean, seemingly the only living creatures on the earth. Nice to be wearing Tripp’s pajamas, though they hung off her bony shoulders. Nice that she didn’t care if he saw the scars.

  He’d been so kind about them, spoken such pretty words. It even seemed like he believed them to be true. She hadn’t had much time to think about them before she’d fallen asleep, late as it had been, as tired as she’d felt.

  But now, as the sun rose and breathed new life into the day, she rolled his words around in her head. He was right, in a lot of ways. If she hadn’t been assaulted, she wouldn’t have left Miami. She wouldn’t have met Tripp. She wouldn’t have had this chance at love.

  She turned toward him, her hair falling over the side of the boat as she leaned into her elbow. “I heard you right last night, didn’t I? You said you loved me?”

  He cut her a glance out of the corner of his eye. “That’s a heavy way to start the morning conversation.”

  “I suppose.” She gazed out over the water again. “I guess I just wanted to say that I love you too before too much time passed, just so that you’d know that I heard you say it, and I wanted to say it back, but it was kind of an emotional night, and—” She took a deep breath and lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “And I love you.”