All Of Me

Chapter 28

Tripp's POV

I saw Brooke's car pull up, and all the nerve I had, suddenly dissipated. Uncle Todd, Uncle James, Uncle Max, and two of my cousins, Shawn and Jimmy, had all wanted to play football outside. Well, really just throw a football around, so I joined them. Not really able to say 'Nah guys, I'm gonna stay in here with the ladies and wait for Brooke to get here.'

Let's not add fuel to the cookout dance theory.

It wasn't long before I saw my mom barreling out the door and headed straight for me. The closer she got, the more I could tell something was wrong. She was pale and her eyes watery. I tossed the ball to Shawn and quickly approached her.

"What's wrong?" I grasped her shoulders. After a moment, she straightened her back and brushed my hands off. "Is that baby yours?" Her voice cracked as she asked the question.

I shook my head. "No, I mean, we don't think so." I stuttered, my hand rubbing the nape of my neck. Unsure of how to explain.

"Brooke said she's due February the eighteenth, that means she got pregnant the end of May. What happened at that party Tripp?" She questioned, fear clear in her voice though she tried to mask it.

I had told her that Brooke got pregnant and didn't know who the father was. I didn't tell her it was at the party, and I didn't tell her we were both drunk. I didn't want her to worry since we were both sure the baby wasn't mine.

"Tell me, Tripp." She demanded. The guys walked down the field to the barn so we could privately discuss the situation. For that I was grateful. "Brooke got drunk. Like, really drunk. Wasted. She passed out and I took her to Chelsea's room-" She cut me off. "Oh God," Her hands flying to her mouth.

I touched her shoulder and continued. "And then I woke up early the next morning on Josh's couch. ANd we're pretty sure that's all. We don't remember anything else." I tried to make the words sound reassuring, though I'm sure they didn't.

"You were drunk to?" She sounded horrified. "You passed out drunk on a couch? How do you know what happened, Tripp?" She was clearly distraught.

I reached to pull my worrisome mother into my arms and she hesitated before finally returning my hug. "I don't want you to worry about it. As hard as that is. If we had..done something..together, someone would have made a big deal out of it. People have been encouraging Brooke and I to date for years. It wouldn't have been kept a secret this long." I realized I was saying it more to myself than anything.

I wanted to believe I wouldn't do that to Brooke. But how could we be sure? I remembered something happening that night. Something...but I don't know what. And I doubt it was with Brooke. Vague memories of kissing..someone. Being touched. But I was so drunk, it could have been a dream. I kick myself daily for letting myself get drunk that night. If only I had been sober, I could've stopped whatever happened to her.

"Lunch is ready." Mother said, seemingly regaining her composure as she turned on her heel and walked back into the house.

As soon as the guys and me walked into the house, my eyes immediately searched for her, and found her sitting on the couch beside my cousin Susan, admiring the newborn.

Her hair was let down, and pushed behind her ear. She looked beautiful in a pair of yellow shorts I'd never seen before, and a white tank top that fit perfectly against her growing belly.

She caught me looking and gave me a small wave. I returned her smile and she returned her attention to the baby.

As we all ate lunch, around the living room and at the large bar, I smiled at how wel she fit in with my family.

I wondered if she had met Pretty Boy's family yet. How well did she fit in? Would she like a new start with someone that didn't know the details of her life so intimately? I swallowed the nausea in my throat and tried to ignore the image of Mr. Preppy carrying Luke's car seat while Brooke followed behind carrying a monogrammed diaper bag in one hand and a Starbucks in the other.

The way Brooke called my name let me know it wasn't the first time she'd called it. I snapped out of my thoughts and she laughed a little. "Are you gonna show me my room?" she raised her eyebrows and I shook my head. "Yeah, come on."

I hoisted her bag over my shoulder and carried her carry-on in my hand as we ascended the first staircase, and then the second. I stopped at the second door on the right and pushed it open with my foot.

It was an average sized room, cream colored paint, a twin-sized bed and a bedroom suit to match. She walked around the room, examining everything as I dropped her bags onto the bed and walked to the closet to pull out some extra blankets for her.

"It stays chilly up here so here's some extra blankets." I turned to hand them to her and she held her arms out, way out, and I laid them there. "Is your mom okay? She ran out earlier choking and stuff." She asked hesitantly.

I rubbed my neck and sat down on the side of the bed. "She did some calculating and knows that you got pregnant at the party," "And she think he's yours?" She inturrupted me. I nodded. She shook her head and rubbed her temples. "But I explained to her that we were pretty sure whatever happened wasn't between you and I." I tried to reassure her and once again racked my brain for anything else.

Touching. Kissing. Fast-paced breathing.

I was sure I had at least kissed someone that night, but it couldn't have been Brooke. She was passed out, and I woke up on the couch.

Brooke nodded and I shook my head. "We're gonna find out who it was, Brooke. I promise. And if we can't before Luke is born, then they can do a test and tell you for sure. Okay?" I crossed the room and ran my thumb over her high cheek bone.

She gave me a weak smile and my heart sped up at how blue her eyes were. She was so beautiful, even if she didn't think she was.

"Brooke, I-" I sighed and dropped my hand down. Her eyes were locked on mine, searching for something. My heart was racing. I needed to say it. "I..I'll be on the second floor if you need me. First door on your left." I was overwhelmed with disappointment as she looked down at her feet and nodded. "Thanks." Was all she said, and I left the room, shutting the door behind me.

As I began unpacking my bag into the drawers of the dresser I would be borrowing for the weekend, I felt like the umpire of my game called life should have been yelling something like "Fumble on the last yard, ball intercepted by number thirty-nine. Touchdown Clint!"