Until Autumn Falls

by Elana Johnson

  Tripp cut her a glance. “Uh, I guess.”

  “Mom, I go by Hilary, remember? Tripp doesn’t know who Jilly is.”

  “Right.” Her mom flushed and her fingers fluttered around her bangs before smoothing her hand behind her ear. “So, should we go to breakfast?”

  Hilary shook her head. “Mom, the point is to make everyone in Dante’s crew think I’ve left town.”

  “Room service then,” she said brightly. “We’ve got a table, a kitchen, everything.”

  “Everything,” Hilary echoed, thinking of the two armed guards standing just on the other side of the door. Some things she wished she didn’t have. “Tripp and I are going to return to Redwood Bay today.”

  “We are?” Tripp asked at the same time her father said, “No, you should wait a couple of days.” His statement lingered in the air. Hilary warred with herself. Her parents had been her biggest support after the assault. Her mother sat at her bedside every night, and her father took morning shifts. He was the one who suggested she leave Miami and start over somewhere else. He’d provided her with the money she’d needed, the false driver’s licenses, the technology to navigate across the country.

  She trusted his judgment. She loved her father. “Why do we need to wait? Tripp says Ethan left town and hasn’t come back.”

  “They’ll check there,” Dad said. “Give it a few days.”

  “I don’t think I can stay in this room for even one more day.” Hilary paced to the window and looked beyond the hotel. Maybe with Tripp she could survive caged behind these walls for one more day. But not two. And not with her parents lurking just through the adjoining door.

  She was glad, grateful, they’d come. Their reunion had been tearful and joyful and wonderful. Hilary didn’t want to go back to Redwood Bay and cut them out of her life again. But she wasn’t sure how to include them and fly under Dante’s radar.

  “I’ll order breakfast and we can talk about it.” Her mother moved to the desk and picked up the menu. “What do you like, Tripp?”

  “Oh, um, it doesn’t matter.” He joined Hilary at the window, his hand gliding along her hip in a subtle way that drew her closer to him. “You okay?”

  “I don’t like walls,” she whispered. “I always had an escape plan in Redwood Bay. From downtown. From the wharf. From Lucy’s. I can’t…get out here.”

  “You don’t need to,” he said. “Let’s just wait it out and then go home.” He brushed his lips along her forehead. “Okay?”

  She leaned into his body, stealing from his strength. “Okay.” She turned back to her mother, who spoke into the phone. Her father had taken a seat in one of the armchairs, and he looked relaxed, though his eyes remained watchful.

  “Tripp,” he said. “Come sit by me and tell me about yourself.” He spoke kindly, and Tripp didn’t hesitate to join him across the room, leaving Hilary to herself to sit in the window seat and wonder if she was doing the right thing.

  * * * *

  “Your parents are great,” Tripp said later that night. They’d watched three movies and Hilary felt like her muscles were made of marshmallow.

  She snuggled deeper into his side, propping the pillow up behind her so she could watch the rerun of a cooking show she’d seen already. “They are great.”

  “Your father booked our flight for Sunday morning.”

  She closed her eyes. “I heard. Sunday is three days away.”

  “He’s just trying to keep you safe.” He stroked his fingers through her hair, along her shoulder. “It’s hard for him to even let you go back to Redwood Bay. He wants you in Miami, in his hotel, so he can station guards around you all the time.”

  “That’s not a life.”

  “I didn’t say I agreed with him.” Tripp turned on his side and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I tried to assure him that I’d take care of you.”

  She opened her eyes and looked into the depths of his. The tenderness swimming in his eyes touched her, infected her. “I love you,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you to protect me. I’m not weak. I want—”

  “I know, baby.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You’re the strongest woman I know and you don’t need me to survive.” He touched his lips to hers again. “I know.”

  She tucked her face into the hollow of his throat and breathed in the manly scent of his skin. “You’re wrong,” she whispered. “I do need you to survive.”

  “No.” He stroked his hands down her arms and up her back. “I’m the one who needs you.” He spoke with such honesty, such authenticity, that she believed him, adored him, absolutely could not live without him.

  Sunday morning came, and with it arrived more nerves than Hilary knew what to do with. She’d been this fearful when she’d left Miami, but that had worked out. When she’d left Redwood Bay the first time, she hadn’t been afraid for herself, but for Tripp. She knew how to run. What she didn’t know how to do was stay and fight.

  When the plane touched down north of town, Hilary didn’t want to get off. But she did. She got in Tripp’s truck and then out when he pulled into her driveway. “You kept my place?” she asked.

  “I’ve been living here since you left.” He paused at the doorway. “It might look and smell like I’ve been living here,” he admitted. “I’ll hire a cleaning service.”

  She smiled and reached for his hand. “It’s okay. I kinda like you.”

  “Great.” He grinned, the first true smile she’d seen grace his handsome face since he’d shown up in Fisher’s Island. “I kinda like you too.” He opened the door and took his suitcase inside. She only had her backpack and she lowered it to the floor. Everything in her bungalow seemed to be in the same spot. She didn’t have pictures of herself—didn’t want to leave behind evidence—and Tripp never cooked. The only proof that he’d been living there in her absence was the presence of his boots by the door, his jacket hanging over the back of one of the barstools, and a pile of blankets he’d been using on the end of the couch.

  The clicking of the lock brought Hilary back to the present. She turned toward Tripp, who tucked his hands in his pockets. “We’re home,” he said.

  “Can we go fishing tomorrow morning?”

  His lips quirked upward. “I’ll text Jared and let him know. Not that he’s been going out. March isn’t a prime fishing month.” He pulled out his phone and fired off a text. Several came back in quick succession. He glanced up. “He wants us to come to lunch.”

  Trepidation pulled through her. “I guess I’ll have to face your family at some point, right? And the town.”

  He closed the distance between them. “They won’t judge you, Hil.”

  “You keep saying that.” She wound her arms around his strong back. “I’m trying to believe it.”

  She went to lunch with Tripp, and Polly sobbed at the sight of her. Hilary didn’t feel judged, and she loved Polly all the more for her acceptance. She didn’t ask a million questions either. Just tried to feed Hilary more than any person could eat, and laughed overly loud with Millie, and bounced Sophie’s baby girl on her hip.

  Hilary’s reunion with Lucy was similar. A few tears shed. A lot of gratitude. Pure friendship. Over the course of the next several weeks, Hilary reintegrated herself into the fabric of Redwood Bay, the only place she’d ever felt like she belonged.

  Near the end of April, after she’d been back for almost two months, she skipped her regular fishing expedition with Tripp in order to sleep in and meet her friends at Millie’s dress shop.

  Wedding preparations were in full swing for Millie and Jared’s event at the beginning of June, and Millie was modeling her self-made wedding dress that morning. The bridesmaids all needed to be fitted as well, and when Hilary arrived, Sophie, Polly, and Diana were already there.

  Millie ushered her into the shop and glanced down the street. “No sign of Sadie or Lucy.”

  “Lucy’s coming?”

  “I managed to wrestle her away from the diner for one hour.” Mill
ie rolled her eyes. “That was her stipulation. ‘You get one hour, Millie.’” She pointed toward the back of the shop. “You can go on into my sewing room. Diana brought muffins and coffee.”

  Hilary joined them, the sight of the pale blue bridesmaids dresses hanging on a rack nearly causing her to bolt. She’d shown Polly and Millie her scars, but to wear that dress, the whole town would get to see them.

  She edged closer to Polly and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Polly, that dress….” She took a big sip of coffee and burned her throat.

  “It’s okay, Hil.” Polly nudged the cranberry walnut muffins closer to her. “It’s time to show the world anyway.”

  Hilary nodded, her conversations with Polly on this topic over the past several weeks revolving in her mind. Intellectually, she knew she could show her friends her scars. But to actually do it?

  She thought of how her relationship with Tripp had truly started. She’d stopped at his table, knowing that if she wanted to get to know him better she’d have to talk. Eventually tell him everything. Actually doing it had been hard. So hard. But so worth it.

  Distantly, the bell rang, and Hilary heard Millie talking. Seconds later, she arrived in the sewing room with Sadie and Lucy. “So, we’re all here,” she said. “Let’s do the bridesmaid fittings first. Then I’ll show you my dress.”

  “Muffins first,” Lucy said, making a beeline for the snacks. Hilary giggled and snatched a muffin before Lucy could snag them all.

  Once satiated with delicious carbs, Millie ushered the women into the dressing rooms and handed them each a dress. Hilary took her time changing, trying to tug the fabric as high as possible toward her shoulder.

  She examined herself in the mirror. At least four inches of scar tissue extended beyond the bodice of the dress. The bell on the shop’s door rang again as Hilary bent to put on the heels Millie had provided.

  “These won’t work,” she muttered. She never wore heels because her left foot had been broken in the assault. It had healed a bit crooked, and heels hurt worse than sandals.

  A man’s voice carried to the dressing rooms, and Hilary straightened. Her heart sprinted, trying to get away from an unseen enemy. She pressed her back into the mirror behind her, one hand covering her scars and one reaching for her phone.

  “Tripp,” she whispered to his voicemail. “Someone’s here. I’m going to stay out—” She dropped the phone when a woman screamed, all thoughts of staying hidden in the dressing room forgotten.

  She left her clothes, her phone, everything, and ran out of the dressing room. The showroom had been disturbed; a mannequin lay on its side; the front door still sat open.

  A whimper came from her right, and Hilary turned that way, the long fabric of the bridesmaid dress tangling in her feet.

  Ethan stood there, his meaty hands gripping Millie. She faced Hilary, and Hilary saw the pure panic on her face. Lucy clutched Polly and Diana in the corner, and Hilary couldn’t see Sadie anywhere.

  In fact, Hilary saw only white. She blinked and life rushed forward again. “Let her go.” She didn’t recognize her own voice.

  Ethan twisted toward her. “This isn’t your concern.”

  “She’s not who you want.”

  “What do you—?”

  “I’m Jillian Russell.”

  A hungry edge entered Ethan’s eyes, and he abandoned Millie, who scampered against the wall to her friends. He stalked closer to Hilary, who lifted her chin and gestured to the scars. “Come to give me more of these?”

  She fell back a step, beyond grateful she hadn’t put on those heels, as he grinned in a wolfish way. “Maybe not right away.”

  He lunged forward and she sidestepped. But though Hilary was petite and agile, she was no match for a man twice her size, even if he moved with the grace of a gorilla. She managed to land her elbow to the back of his head, and he groaned as he stumbled forward.

  “Call the police!” she yelled to the women still cowering in the corner. She darted for the sewing room, which she hoped had a lock on the door. She managed to make it inside and slam the door. Her fingers fumbled over the knob, punching the lock a mere breath before Ethan’s weight slammed into the door.

  He cursed, causing her to stumble away from the door. Her phone was still in the dressing room, and she wouldn’t make it far in this billowy, blue dress. The sound of cracking wood echoed through her head, and Hilary thought one more kick and the door would come down.

  She was right, and Ethan palmed the door as it swung back toward him. “That was a bad idea,” he growled.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, her blood flowing like ice when a second man appeared behind Ethan.

  She wished it was Chief Harrison, but it wasn’t. This man wore a mobster suit like Ethan, and his aura screamed dangerous. Hilary swallowed, wondering how much pain she could endure before she passed out, wondering when Tripp would get her message, wondering how long it would take before the police arrived.

  Ethan made a swipe for her, but she danced away from his reach. Her options were narrowing by the second as the second man circled to her right. “The police are on their way.”

  “We’ll be gone by then.” Ethan touched the back of his head and winced. “Come with us, and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  She knew he was lying—he was definitely going to hurt her. But the sight of her friends cowering against the wall and the sound of Millie’s scream in her ears convinced her to step forward. “You lay one finger on me, and I’ll make you sorry you came to Redwood Bay.”

  He grabbed her bicep, his grip like steel, and snarled, “I’m already sorry I came to Redwood Bay.” He shoved her toward the broken door. “Now let’s go.”

  On the way down the hall toward the back exit, she glanced into her dressing room. Her clothes remained on the floor and her phone blinked from the corner. She could only hope it was a message from Tripp, and that he was on his way here.

  She stalled before leaving the building. “Where are you taking me?” she yelled, hoping her friends were still in the showroom.

  “Shut up and go.”

  “Not until you tell me where we’re going.” She leaned closer to him though everything in her wanted to flee. “If you don’t, I’ll scream as soon as that door opens. And the public park is just across the street. Probably a lot of moms and kids. Moms with phones.”

  “Fine. We’re just going over to the hotel.”

  “The new hotel?” She sucked in a breath. Tripp had become friends with the manager. All she had to do was make sure he saw her. “Fine.” She raised her voice. “Let’s go to the new hotel. Did you drive or do I have to walk in bare feet?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  By the time Tripp showed up at Millie’s dress shop, half the town was already there. Two police cars sat out front, their lights flashing. Jared kept his arm around Millie near the front door while Blaine comforted Lucy and Diana on the sidewalk. Sadie’s husband sat by her on the curb, and Mont held Sophie in one arm and their baby in the other.

  “Sophie,” he said. “Where’s Hilary?”

  The look on her face said it all. He cursed the fact that he’d been under the saw when she called. He’d finished his fishing, his selling, and had started on the dresser by the time she called. He hadn’t heard it ring, had actually checked her message before calling her back almost ten minutes after she’d called.

  She hadn’t answered, of course. Her voice on the message had struck fear right between his ribs, and he’d left the workshop in a sprint.

  Panicking, Tripp spun away from his cousin. He found Polly standing a little too close to Chief Harrison and he hurried over to them. “Chief,” he said. “What happened?”

  “Tripp.” Tears streamed down Polly’s face and Tripp pulled her close. “Ethan was here again, and he took Hilary. He took her to the hotel. She doesn’t have her phone; I found it in the dressing room.”

  “She’s wearing a blue bridesmaid dress,” Chief Harrison said. “Dylan wa
s alerted and he told his whole front desk staff. No one saw them come in.”

  Tripp faced the hotel, and the soft spot he’d developed for it over the past few months dried up. “Well, let’s go.”

  “Dylan is pulling the check-in records for us. There is no Ethan King.”

  “He could’ve used any name,” Tripp said. “Why are we all standing around here? Let’s go knock on every door until we find her.” He felt like his blood had been replaced by bubbles, and as they popped, he got electrocuted. Over and over.

  “We can’t just rush into a hostage situation,” Chief Harrison said. “Dylan is organizing a systematic search.”

  “Without police help?”

  “I was waiting for you. Let’s go over together.” He stepped toward his police cruiser and Tripp fell into the front seat.

  “Tripp, you can’t just go barging in there,” the chief said as they drove the several blocks to the hotel. “We have to assume they’re armed.”

  Snakes writhed in Tripp’s stomach. “Did anyone see a gun?”

  “None of the women reported seeing a weapon, but we have to assume.” He pulled into the hotel parking lot, where three other police cars had the front entrance blocked off. But no one seemed to be doing anything.

  Helplessness doused him as if he’d been hit with a bucket of ice water. He’d felt like this for seventy-two straight days, and he hated it. Hated it more than anything. He got out of the car despite Chief Harrison’s loud protest and headed for the sliding glass doors. He half-expected someone to tackle him, but the other officers simply stared at him as he walked by. They didn’t have a lot of opportunities to know what to do in a hostage situation. Tripp didn’t either, but he wasn’t going to sit out here and wait while Hilary got more scars.

  Dylan met him just inside the door. “Tripp.” He grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the glass. “I think I’ve isolated the room. One of my housekeeping staff cleaned a room with black suits hanging in the closet. I checked the reservation, and it was done by a male with a credit card out of Miami. One man, but the chief said there were two.”