Until Autumn Falls

by Elana Johnson

  Hilary ran her hands up and down her arms, the chill in the room speaking that no one had been inside for a while. The stagnant scent of the air and the staleness of the granola bar she pulled out of the cupboard also testified that the thirteenth floor didn’t get used much. The staff probably used it when they had to work extra hours, for showers or napping.

  Mike rapped three times on the door and opened it. He stuck his hand and head into the room. “Phone.”

  She took it from him and gave him a quick smile he didn’t return. But she didn’t call anyone. Even after the door closed and latched, she didn’t. She flipped the phone over and over in her palm, her mind racing. If she called Tripp, he’d come to Fisher’s Island. He’d pack up his whole boat, his whole life, and come.

  Everything in her wanted him to come. At the same time, every fiber of her being wanted to keep him safe.

  Her father flying to one of his hotels shouldn’t alert anyone, but her mother coming with him might. The thought of seeing her parents again after so long left Hilary breathless. She collapsed to the bed, the phone clenched in her fist.

  She couldn’t help the emotion flooding her, and it came leaking out of her eyes in the form of tears. She’d cried a lot in the past couple of months, and she hated the heated feeling in her skull, pressing behind her eyes. She hated the feeling of weakness, because it reminded her so much of her year with Dante.

  She’d cried a lot then too, and when she’d finally done something about it, everything in her life had changed—and it still was. “Are you doing it again?” she asked herself. She stood and looked at herself in the mirror hanging above the desk. “Are you telling yourself you don’t deserve better? So you’ll just keep running, and changing who you are, and hiding your scars?”

  She didn’t want to be weak. She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to assume a new identity every few months. She shook her head at herself and turned away.

  After turning on the phone, she dialed Tripp’s number, hoping he’d have it on and nearby. That he wouldn’t be out on the ocean fishing. That he’d answer a call from an unlisted number.

  He didn’t.

  “Tripp,” she said. “It’s Hilary.” Her voice stuck in her throat, and it wasn’t until that moment that she realized how much she needed him. “This phone doesn’t take calls. I’ll call you back in an hour, okay? I hope…I hope you’re not mad I haven’t sent a message yet. It’s been—” She cut off, unwilling to detail her journey from one side of the country to the other, the places she’d slept, the kinds of people she’d trusted.

  “I’ll call you in an hour.” She hung up, so many angles in her brain she couldn’t get her thoughts in a straight line. She showered and put on her street clothes, ate another stale snack, and paced until the sixty minutes expired.

  She redialed Tripp, her anxiety amping up with every breath.

  “Hilary?” he answered, the hope in his voice so high it made Hilary smile.

  “Tripp,” she said, every muscle in her body sighing in relief.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tripp could hardly believe Hilary had called. After seventy-four days of silence, of nothing, of hope so devastating Tripp didn’t know how to function.

  “I’m in trouble,” she said now, her voice higher than he remembered it. “I’m—I’m actually in one of my father’s hotels.”

  “Where?” he asked, hurrying from the workshop and into the office. He had a computer there. He could be on the next flight out of town.

  “I don’t want to tell you,” she whispered. “Because then you’ll come.”

  “Of course I’m going to come,” he said before the full weight of her words sank in. “Wait, you don’t want me to come?”

  “I do.” She sighed. “And I don’t.”

  Tripp sat heavily in his desk chair, his free hand frantic on the mouse to wake the computer. “Hilary, I—I don’t understand.”

  “It’s the same thing as before,” she said. “The same thing I’m always battling. I’m scared.” She sniffled and Tripp stiffened. He needed to be there for her, hold her close like he used to when she was scared, drive away her demons.

  “Where are you?” he asked again. “I want to come.”

  “You’ll have to meet my parents.”

  “Well, we should probably get that done anyway,” he said. “Since we’ll be getting married this autumn.” He hadn’t meant to add a measure of challenge to his tone, but it was there anyway. He almost wanted her to contradict him so he could fight for her, remind her how much he loved her.

  After a measurable silence, she said, “So I’ll have to go to Seattle? You know I hate Seattle.”

  He half-laughed, half-sobbed, and for several terrifying breaths he thought he’d break down completely. He’d managed to hold himself together all this time, all these days. He didn’t show anything to Jared, kept his composure through family lunches and near-daily visits from Polly.

  “I have your ring,” he said. “I’ll bring it with me. Just tell me where you are.”

  “Fisher’s Island,” she said. “I’m in Fisher’s Island, Connecticut.”

  * * * *

  Twelve hours later, Tripp pulled up to the magnificent resort casino on the banks of the Thames River. He’d been driving for three hours, and as he gazed at the glass and metal building before him, he thought sure it would swallow him whole.

  “Valet?” A man bent down and peered through the passenger window.

  Tripp had no idea where he’d park, and how he’d ever find an entrance after that. So he said, “Yes,” and got out of the car. As he pressed a twenty-dollar bill into the man’s hand, he asked, “How do I find the security manager?”

  “Ask at hotel registration.” The man flashed him a smile and slid behind the wheel of the rental car.

  Tripp faced the triple-wide doors, his heart bouncing in his chest. Hilary had called close to midnight and said her parents had arrived. He hadn’t been able to answer because he was landing in New York City and still had the drive ahead of him.

  He glanced behind him, but the night seemed thick, the bright lights of the hotel only extending a few feet. “Go on,” he told himself. He gathered his courage close and strode toward the entrance.

  He followed the signs for hotel registration and found a tired-eyed woman standing behind the long counter. “Morning,” he said. “I’m looking for Hil—uh, I mean, baby bird. She said to check in here when I arrived.”

  The receptionist’s eyebrows rose, and though it was three-thirty in the morning she suddenly looked wide awake. “I’ll need your ID,” the woman said. “Do you have a room reservation?”

  Tripp pulled his wallet out and slid his driver’s license toward her. “No, I’m staying with…her.”

  A frown line appeared between the woman’s eyes, and she picked up the phone and pressed a single key. She picked up his ID and said, “I have a Tripp Thurgood here.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I’ll need clearance.”

  She waited, which meant Tripp did too. Every second felt like a minute. Each minute like an hour. He glanced around like he’d done something illegal and men in black suits would swarm from the casino floor behind him.

  “I’ll have him wait,” the woman finally said and she hung up. “You’ll need to wait here for a security escort.” She slid his driver’s license back to him. He replaced it in his wallet and stepped away from the counter. He didn’t go far, and sure enough, those men in black suits spilled out of a hallway to his right.

  “Tripp Thurgood?” A man his same height but with much more impressive muscles approached. “I’ll need ID.”

  Tripp sucked in a breath and bottled his frustration as he took his wallet out again. He should be glad for the protective measures surrounding Hilary—and he was. She’d said an unknown man in the executive suite had scared her.

  “He shouldn’t have been there,” she’d told him as he booked his flight. “And it was like he was just waiting for me. I pan
icked and I ran.”

  “Who was he?” Tripp asked. “Did you find out?”

  “He’d disappeared by the time security got back to his room. But we have a camera every ten feet here, and they captured a clear picture of his face. It was one of Dante’s men.”

  Tripp had been repeating those words the entire way across the country. He had no idea what Hilary had planned for herself. He hoped it would include him, hoped that she’d accept his ring again, hoped she’d come back to Redwood Bay and make him the happiest man on Earth.

  He hoped for so much, it actually weighed him down.

  “Come with us,” the man said, handing Tripp his ID. The man moved forward first, and Tripp followed, the second security guard sandwiching him between them. Down the hall, through a heavy door—which locked decisively behind them—and into an elevator that required a long code to activate, and Tripp began to wonder how Dante’s men could possibly get to Hilary now that she knew they were here.

  He couldn’t give her that level of security in Redwood Bay, and his step faltered. How could he ask her to go back there? He felt like all the pieces of his life had been tossed into a bag and then thrown up into the air. He was trying to catch them all, but he knew some would fall, that he couldn’t possibly catch everything.

  The security guard knocked three times and stepped back. The door opened in the next breath, and Hilary stood there. His Hilary. She wore a pair of pajamas he’d never seen before and a hoodie zipped all the way up.

  Everything inside him softened, and he pushed past the guard partially blocking the door and swept her into his arms. The door slammed closed behind them as she gripped his shoulders, clinging to him like her life depended on it. “Tripp,” she whispered.

  “Hey, baby.” He stroked his fingers down the side of her face, hardly believing she was real, here in his arms. He took a deep breath, the scent of her perfume powerful, as usual. “I love you.” He pulled her close again, a thrill squirreling down his back as her fingers tangled in his hair.

  “You need a haircut,” she whispered, her voice breathless. He swayed with her, the thumping of his pulse loud in his ears.

  “Seems like you got one.” He smiled fondly at her golden hair that barely reached her chin. “I like the new style. Suits you.”

  She gazed up at him, those vulnerable eyes filled with love and fear and laughter and fragility. “When are you gonna kiss me?”

  “After you put on my ring.” He gave her his best smile and stepped back enough to pull the ring from his pocket. It had ridden there the whole way from California, and the only place he’d rather have it was on her finger.

  “Well, you better put it on then.” She extended her left hand and he slipped the ring on. He bent and kissed her knuckles, then the back of her hand, then the hollow of her throat. Her arms came around him again, and he put a couple of inches between them so he could unzip her sweatshirt.

  “What are you hiding under here?” he asked in a playful tone. Before he got it more than a few inches down, he pulled back like the zipper had singed him. “Where are your parents?”

  “You woke my father to get clearance.” She glanced toward the door just to his right. “I told him to go back to bed. They’re in that adjoining room.”

  “It’s locked?”

  “It’s like Fort Knox here.” She stretched up. “I want my kiss now.”

  “In a second.” He reached for her zipper again. “I want to see what’s under the jacket.” She let him slide the zipper down, and he knew within the first few seconds that there was nothing to see under the sweatshirt. He pushed it off her bare shoulders, his fingers tracing the scars he’d come to love.

  “Can you kiss me now?” She trembled in his arms, and he did exactly what she asked.

  * * * *

  By the time Tripp woke, sun streamed through the window. He’d been awake for twenty-five hours straight by the time he and Hilary had fallen asleep. He didn’t care. He’d gladly give up any amount of rest in favor of making love to her.

  But now, her side of the bed seemed to be empty. He sat up straight, panic racing through him with the speed of sound. “Hilary?”

  “Shower,” she called. “You should come get in.”

  A half an hour later, after they’d made love again, and showered together, and clothed themselves in fluffy robes, he lay next to her in bed. “Were you ever going to tell me where you were?”

  She stiffened beside him, but he kept his arm across her stomach tight. Her pulse beat in rapid-fire bursts against his cheek.

  “Probably not,” she admitted. “I wanted to, Tripp. Every day, I wanted to.”

  He wasn’t sure how that was supposed to comfort him. He resisted the urge to speak and let the silence give her a chance to continue.

  “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I didn’t have any contact with you—or anyone else in Redwood Bay—you’d be safe.”

  “Ethan left within the week. He hasn’t been back.”

  “Doesn’t mean he won’t come back. Or that Dante won’t send someone else. Wherever I am, no one’s safe.”

  “I don’t care.” He tipped his head back and looked at her. “That should be my choice, not yours. And you said you’d let me know where you were.” He couldn’t help the bite in his voice, and he hoped she understood that it came from a deep well of hurt.

  She stroked his hair. “I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s my choice to be with you,” he said. “Good, bad, dangerous, whatever.”

  She shook her head but didn’t argue with him.

  “So what are you going to do now?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. I want you to meet my parents. After that….”

  He didn’t like the uncertainty in her voice, like she’d leave him again, go seventy-two days without contacting him. “After that, you’ll come back to Redwood Bay with me. We’ll spend all summer making love and catching fish, and then we’ll be married when autumn falls.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be that simple.”

  “Well, making love never is.”

  She giggled. “Tripp. I’m serious.”

  He exhaled, his brain churning up old thoughts. “There has to be something we can do about Dante.”

  “My father brought the paperwork for a restraining order against him and anyone who knows him.”

  “That’s a start. Miami is a long way from Redwood Bay. Why does he care?”

  “Because he views me like property. I’m his, and no one else can have me.”

  “You’re mine,” Tripp whispered fiercely. “And I’m yours, okay?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It is,” he insisted. “I’ll go wherever you want, Hilary. I can fish anywhere. We can go to England, or Japan, or somewhere in South America. I can build boats anywhere. You can cook to your heart’s desire, and—and—” Tripp stopped speaking, because he was well aware of how desperate he sounded.

  “I don’t want to move to England or Japan,” she said. “If you really want to be with me—”

  “I do.”

  “Then we’ll go back to Redwood Bay.”

  “Hilary—”

  “That’s where you’re established and where I fell in love with you. It’s where I want to be.”

  He watched her, finding her easy to read. “You look like you’ve just seen one of Dante’s men. How can I take you back there when you’re terrified of it?”

  She looked away, effectively concealing the emotion in her eyes. “What have people in town been saying about me? Lucy? Polly?”

  “Nothing, Hil. Once you left, I texted everyone I knew and told them that picture wasn’t of you, that you weren’t Jillian. Everyone rallied together against Ethan. They kept your secret, because you’re one of us.” He propped himself up on his elbow. “Lucy and Polly love you, Hilary. They asked me about you every day. Lucy’s texts became so annoying, and Polly came down to the wharf every day just to make sure
I was eating.”

  Her gaze came back to his. “You weren’t eating?”

  “Hilary.” He brushed her short, blonde hair off her forehead. “You left town and I didn’t hear from you for seventy-two of the longest days of my life. Eating wasn’t at the top of my list.” He smiled, but it didn’t carry much happiness. “Everyone’s asked about you at some point. Redwood Bay isn’t the same without you.”

  She looked like she might cry, but a sharp knock on the adjoining door made her push the emotion back below the surface. “That’s my mother.” She started to scoot toward the edge of the bed.

  “I’m not dressed.”

  “Oh, not that again,” Hilary teased as she shed her robe and reached for her clothes. “Just a minute, Mom. I’m getting dressed.” She turned back to Tripp, who still lay on the bed, watching her pull on her clothes. “Hurry up, Tripp. I don’t think you want to meet my parents wearing a hotel robe.”

  He certainly did not. He leapt into action so he could be dressed before Hilary opened the door.

  Chapter Thirty

  Hilary unlocked the door and it swung in all by itself. Her father entered, his dark hair now edged with silver and his brown eyes sharp and accessing. He focused on Tripp, and a distrustful frown pulled at his mouth. “Morning, sweetheart.” He gave Hilary a quick hug, and she closed her eyes. She’d missed her parents more than she’d realized.

  “Dad,” she said, stepping back, her stomach quivering. “Mom, hey.” She sucked back the emotion threatening to spill out. “This is my fiancé, Tripp Thurgood.”

  Her mom’s eyes widened at the word fiancé, but Hilary’s joy soared. How she thought she could actually live her life without Tripp was a mystery to her.

  “Sir.” Tripp shook her dad’s hand before slipping his fingers into Hilary’s mother’s. “Ma’am.”

  “Oh, don’t ‘ma’am’ her,” Hilary said with a smile. “She’s not old enough to be called ma’am.”

  Her mother laughed and stepped up to Tripp so he could kiss her cheek, which he did without hesitation. “So you’re the man Jilly’s been talking about.”