Miles Keep Passing By

Tripp’s been quiet. More quiet than before since we pulled out of St. Louis. Crossing the Nebraska state line, he doesn’t even stop at the visitor center. I will have to get my map somewhere else. He’s shown he knows the maps are important to me, why wouldn’t he stop?

The miles tick by as Tripp tenses under me. Something is definitely bothering him. We settle in at some cabin in the outskirts of some tiny town. Using the washer and dryer in the cabin, I begin doing laundry for all of us. Tripp takes off to the bathroom to shower. I feel like he’s avoiding me.

He comes out, hair wet, shirt tight across his chest, jeans loose, and barefoot. Walking up to him, I reach out. He steps away, so I grab him. Turning to me, his eyes are cold. Long gone are the looks of desire and want that I would get lost in.

“Tripp, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. Go shower and rest. We have a long ride tomorrow.” He’s void of emotion in stature.

Boldly, I step up. Running my hands up his chest, he stiffens beneath me. I pull him down to kiss him. He does nothing. Absolutely not one fucking thing. I separate his lips with my tongue, and he makes no moves. Rejection stings as tears prick behind my eyes.

Pulling back, I look at him. “What is it?” I ask in a whisper, trying to contain my emotion.

“Fucking you was a mistake. One that won’t happen again. I can’t give you what you want.” I flinch at his words. Anger consumes me as he claims what we shared was a mistake.

“What I want? What is it exactly that you think I want?” I ask trying to keep my emotions at bay. The rejection he’s dishing out stings.

“You want it all. Kids, house, husband, a permanent place on the back of someone’s bike. That’s not me. My club comes first. I can’t give you that. Make no illusions about where we stand. You’re another piece of ass warming the back of my bike.” His words cut deep, and I stalk backwards from him.

“You think you have me all figured out? I’ve known you, like really known you, two weeks. Let’s get some shit straight. I’m not your average woman. I’m not out to bag a biker. I’m not out to warm the back of a bike. My validation doesn’t come from an ol’ lady cut. Tripp, you’re hot. We’re stuck together. I wanna fuck, not get married. I was born a Hellion, I’ll breed little Hellions one day, and then I’ll die a damn Hellion. ONE. FUCKING. DAY. I want a good time, not a fucking ball and chain. Nothing more, nothing less right now.”

With that, I storm off to the bathroom. Showering, changing, and going to bed without a single word to anyone else.