AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Wouldn’t you? After all, you’re sleeping with me. He’d be an upgrade when I get boring.”
“And on that note.”
Silence.
Call ended.
He pitched the phone at the pulp-smeared wall a half-second before he realized what a bad idea that was.
Several dozen plastic and glass pieces rained onto the floor around the orange and with it, the phone numbers of everyone he gave a shit about.
Son of a bitch!
Now what was he supposed to do if Winterdidget in a wreck?
He wouldn’t even know. Winter could die before anyone drove all the way out there to get hold of him.
Ross would freak. He’d better send an email ‘cause no answer might perpetuate a wellness check and spark another bullshit bunch of skewed facts in the tabloids.
He owed Zakk an apology too. What the fuck had been going through his head for him to think, let alone suggest that?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
This was the problem with having a mountain range between him and the man he was rapidly coming to love. He couldn’t just pop over and apologize.
Well….
He could if he had the guts to be impulsive like his twin for just once in his life.
Maybe it was time to stop wondering about what would happen if he wasn’t there to put out whatever fire his twin managed to start. Maybe if Winter knew there would be no more safety nets, he’d stop taking needless chances and use his fuckin’ brain for once.
Mind made up, he stalked to his room, dug his backpack out of his closet and tossed it on his bed, returning to the kitchen minutes later to pick up the oranges and put the meat away.
Back to his room, then back to the kitchen, this time to wipe the juice off the wall and floor. It would serve Winter right to come home to a house full of ants, only knowing his brother, his solution would be a makeshift hairspray flamethrower or something equally destructive. He spotted the garlic bulb beneath a chair and picked it up too, then returned to his room to randomly grab several pairs of jeans and a handful of t-shirts and shove them in the backpack.
Socks, underwear, toiletry kit, toothbrush, he shoved them all in on top, zipped the bag, located his wallet, then realized he’d forgotten to send the email. He took a moment to detour to his desk, fired up his laptop and told Russ what he’d done to the phone. At least he’d be able to replace some of the more important numbers once he had a replacement. While he had the computer on, he booked a flight, then tucked the laptop in the middle desk drawer, rather than leave it out. As he headed to the door, his gaze landed on the mess he’d forgotten about, the phone bits, so he detoured to sweep them up before stepping out in the hall.
He was halfway to his car before he realized the cost and the risk of leaving one of his vehicles in the parking garage. On instinct he reached into his pocket for his phone and found it empty. Cursing, he retraced his steps, retrieved the laptop from the drawer, and fired it up again so he could use the Uber app. Once he’d received confirmation that a ride was on the way, he clicked the shutdown link and began to close the device only to realize that he hadn’t written down the confirmation number of the flight.
Rolling his eyes, he willed himself to count to ten before firing up the device a third time, making certain that in his next email to management, he told them where he was taking off to, and wrote down the number he’d need at the airport to print his ticket. Satisfied that he had everything he needed, Tripp turned the lights out in the house once again.
Only to turn them right back on again.
This time he remembered to take the trash out and put a clean bag in the can. For a heartbeat, he glanced at the dry erase board.
Winter hadn’t listed where he was going so why should Tripp feel compelled to bother? No, this time he was leaving it blank. Let Winter worry for a change, maybe that might help him catch a clue.
He was halfway down the hall when he turned back one more time, unlocked the door, picked up the onion languishing in the corner, and hastily wiped the spot. Now he could leave. Now he could be impulsive.
If only anxiety wasn’t already gnawing at his gut, as every unknown spun through his brain like broken glass in a hurricane.
He should have grabbed a hoodie or at least a hat to better conceal his identity. There hadn’t been any first-class tickets left so he was flying economy where there was a better chance of being noticed. It had already happened the moment he’d climbed in the back of the car, his driver twisting around to stare at him, whooping when recognition hit.
Tripp had declined the man’s request for a selfie but supplied him with an autograph and answered the wildly fired questions the man had lobbed at him on the drive. By the time they’d arrived at the airport, Tripp was more than ready to put distance between him and the curious fan.
He was sure he tipped too much, but with the man trying one last time to get a photo with him, Tripp hit the first percentage he noticed, grabbed his bag, and bolted through the doors of the busy airport, dodging, and spinning around people and their luggage.
Inside there were enough shops to afford him a whole new identity, between the oversized sunglasses, touristy tops, and emblazoned baseball caps. His braided hair was tucked up under it, a hoodie pulled up over the hat so only the brim peeked out. It was a look he’d never understood but couldn’t have been more grateful for in the moment.
