by Emily Childs
He pulls out a manilla file and slaps it on the table. “See for yourself.”
My heart drops. I steal a glance at Quinn. He’s watching intently now. My tongue swipes over my dry lips as I open the file. The sheets inside take a moment to register, but when I realize what he’s done, my body goes numb. My entire soul numbs. “You’re a terrible human, Bryce Hall. To kick someone during such a vulnerable time. How did you get these?”
“Your password is the same for everything, Lex. Wasn’t hard.”
I stare at the stack of daily emails. Five months’ worth. The depth of pain, of exposed self-hatred brings tears to my eyes all over again. But it’s the pictures that make me hate Bryce most.
They’re a little fuzzy, as if zoomed in from a distance. The picnic table was always ours for the two hours I’d visit each month. Secluded, but close to a pond with ducks and desert palms.
On the bench I sit next to Bridger. His hair is longer, striking his shoulders, and his body is thinner. The look in his eyes is one of a lost man. He wears black sweats, flip flops, and a plain T-shirt. My arm is hooked through his in the picture, and I’m reading to him.
There are more. Each taken as the visit went on, as different emotions billowed to the surface. The next image, the book is closed, and even with the fuzzy quality Bridger’s grimace is clear. I wish I could remember what I’m saying to him, but I look desperate. My hand on his back.
A third photo is Bridger throwing something. His face twisted in anger. Behind him, my hands cover my mouth. It’s unbecoming, broken, it’s angry. A perfect image to fit the narrative of a violent nature.
But the last image paints a different picture. I’m standing, my chest pressed to his back, embracing him from behind. Bridger’s face is pointed at the sky, his hands cover mine on his chest. My chin is propped on his shoulder. At peace when peace rarely came to him during those months.
I point my glare at my mom. “What did you plan to do with these?”
She touches one of the photos, her brow furrowed. “I didn’t know about them.”
I’m too angry to even care. “Bryce, what are you planning to do with these?”
He steeples his fingers in front of his lips. “Here’s what I want, Lex—”
There isn’t time to finish before a chair is dragged from another table and placed at ours. Another body joins the table. Bryce looks like he swallows his tongue. My mom looks away as if ashamed. She ought to be.
Bridger, wearing a Kings cap low on his brow, straddles the chair backward. He grins at Bryce, then me. “What did I miss?”
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
“I heard there was someone threatening me.” Bridger waves to Quinn who waves back. “I’d hate to miss it. Bryce, right?” Bridger holds out his hand until Bryce shakes it nervously. “Don’t stop on my account, tell me what you’ve got. Hey, Mama Knight.”
My mother won’t look at him.
Bridger’s eyes drop to the emails, the pictures, and a bit of the smile leaves his face. For a silent moment he shuffles through the printouts.
“Huh,” he says. “Cameras really are everywhere. Even rehab.”
“Bryce was just about to tell me how he got those pictures.”
He falters a bit, but soon enough Bryce clears his throat and returns to the sleeze he is. “I drove you once, Lex. I didn’t like the idea of you going in there, so I stayed. Imagine my surprise to see how cozy you got with another guy when you were engaged and he was with another woman.”
“No,” Bridger said. “I believe this was the day I ended things with Nadia. The reason for all the theatrics, I’d guess. It was a big step, seeing how she was my supplier. But you’d know that if you read the emails.”
Bryce glares at him and shifts away.
“I’m going to ask once more, Bryce. What are you doing with these?” I start to pull the conversations to me. Pointless, I’m sure. No doubt he made copies, but I want them. They’re mine, after all. They’re sacred to me. To Bridger. I feel utterly violated and can’t imagine what Bridger must be hiding under that smirk and bravado.
Bryce doesn’t look at me, he turns all his focus to Bridger. “Here’s what I want. Either kick Alexis out and leave her alone, or option two, I want a million for these.”
Bridger looks at me. “Is he serious?”
I don’t answer. My skin is melting off my bones.
“And if I say no?” Bridger asks, coolly.
“I’ll sell them. There’s a lot of juice in these emails. Talk of overdosing, relapsing. How much you crave it. You talk about some dark stuff, Cole. The tabloids would pay big for half. Throw in these photos, and I’m set for a long time.”
My head spins, my body trembles in fury. I jump to my feet. “You are the lowest of men, Bryce Hall. Heaven forbid you ever hit rock bottom and someone exploits you. This man—” I shove a finger in Bridger’s face. “Is the strongest man I know and you are not even a fraction of what he is.”
I take a step toward Bryce, making grand plans to hit him in the jaw. Bridger rises, and curls an arm around my waist, tugging me back.
“How do you sleep at night?” I shout. “A million for what? To show how hard he fought? How he beat addiction with the entire world judging him? You are a pig and you disgust me. I hope you, ahhh!”
I’m swept off my feet, my head pointed at the ground. In all my ranting, I didn’t notice how close I’d gotten to Bryce. Now, Bridger has me draped over his shoulder. It’s a stroke of good luck the restaurant is practically empty in the gap between lunch and dinner, so the chances of this madness making it online are low.
Only a few servers watch as I keep pointing my finger at Bryce even slung over Bridger Cole like a knapsack.
“You try to mess with him, Bryce. Let’s see what happens. I have so much on you. How you pick gunk from underneath your fingernails and inspect it, and how you only brush your teeth in the morning, and how your dad bought your way into UNLV!”
“I think you get the point,” Bridger interrupts. “Do what you want, man. I really don’t care anymore. Mama Knight, I have to admit, I thought you’d understand this sort of thing a little more.”
“Bridger, I . . .” My mom starts, but can’t find the spine to finish.
“Put me down,” I demand, and smack Bridger on the back. “I have more to say.”
“You’re done,” Bridger says and walks with me through the restaurant. Quinn grinning behind us.
“Bridger Cole, put me down!”
“Nope.”
I let out a grunt of frustration. “You are the worst! Let me go!”
“Quinn, we’ll take my jeep,” Bridger says, ignoring me. “There’s something Al and I need to talk about. Privately.”
Chapter 24
Bridger
We haven’t said a word since I dropped her into the jeep. Alexis stares out the passenger window as we flee the city. We’re going home. Back to freer days where we could be us without the constant scrutiny.
I don’t press Alexis to talk, when she gets quiet like this, it’s her processing. In truth, I need a minute myself.
Quinn called me the second she abandoned him in the car and thankfully I’d been at the studio ten minutes away. Something burned inside me when I watched her come to my defense. Feelings I can’t keep punched into submission anymore broke free.
I’m not thinking of the fallout, the risk, I’m not even thinking of Parker hating me. This pull to Alexis, these desires, it’s time to deal with it all. Tonight.
I’m not sure what makes me angrier, Bryce trying to manipulate her, or her mom being an accomplice. It’s no wonder Alexis craved someone safe and low risk. Not that her low-risk choice turned out well, but everyone in her life is a wild card. Even Parker is constantly on the move.
I think her journey for a simple life isn’t working. And for good reason.
She needs the right person.
I pull off the highway into our childhood. The houses are f
lat brown, pastel pink, adobe brick, or white stucco. A few have dry grass, most have yards made of sandstone gravel and desert shrubs. Like anywhere, there are nice, manicured homes on one side, and rundown, heaps on the other side. We belonged in the smaller houses. The neighborhoods with hoarders, the ones where broken windows were patched with cardboard and tin foil until funds could be saved for glass. I never thought less of our neighborhood as a kid. It was wild and free. But my life was different than others like Alexis and Parker. Like Tate.
I never worried about money. Never thought my parents weren’t going to show up at night, never worried about who they’d bring home. I knew my folks didn’t have a lot, but they took care of us. It’s not hard to understand why Alexis is afraid of risk and anything other than what society deems normal. Knowing both, I get why Parker is protective of his sister. They always say they only have each other. I know they mean it as a blood-related family, thing. But they don’t get it. Family isn’t defined by blood. They have me. They always will.
And Alexis needs to get that through her stubborn head. I can’t avoid this any longer.
I take us to the old ball fields we used to dominate after dark when the heat was tolerable. This is where Parker became who he is now. Where Tate would draw in the infield dirt because he hated baseball. Where I’d dream up lyrics with Adam in the outfield, avoiding looks at the girl who danced around the dugouts, trying to be one of the guys.
I put the jeep in park, and get out without a word to Alexis.
My fingers lace behind my head as I pace the batter’s box. An ache blooms in my chest, a desire to be close to her. Fierce and desperate, I need my hands on her, need her in my arms.
“Why did you take me away?” she shouts at my back. “He stole my emails! It’s not right and he can’t get away with it.”
Her steps scrape over the dirt. Only once she is next to me do I turn around. Alexis draws in a sharp breath when I trap her face between my hands.
“Why, Al,” I whisper. “Why have you always stood with me?”
She blinks. New tears fill her soft eyes. “If you have to ask me, then you’re not as intelligent as I thought.”
“Pretend I’m not smart. Explain it like I can’t read minds because I can’t read yours.”
She covers my hands on her face with hers, chin quivering. “I stood by you because if you weren’t here who would be the villain in my story? You have a role to play, that’s all, Cole.”
A grin teases my lips. I drop one hand from her wet cheek and glide my palm down her back. I hold her against me, shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest. “I’m more than your villain, Al. You don’t prepare to attack guys in defense of your villain.”
“Bryce broke into my email! I was going to hit him because he offended me.” She rests her forehead to mine, her thumb lining my bottom lip. “Don’t read so much into it.”
“Liar.”
“I am not.”
I tilt her chin with my knuckle, so she looks at me. “I need to hear you say it, Al.”
“Say what? Why I stand by you? Maybe because you’re Parker’s friend. Because you’re giving me a place to stay. Maybe it’s because even you don’t deserve what Bryce is doing.”
I let out a growl and step away, eyes on the sky. “You can’t say it, can you? You can’t admit what’s really going on inside that beautiful, chaotic head.” I turn on her. She’s watching me, eyes bright and wet. “We’re honest with each other, Alexis. It’s just me here.”
She looks at the ground, one finger wipes away a tear, then she covers her face.
“That’s the problem!” she cries. Her eyes are furious and perfect when she pulls back her hands. “It’s you. It’s always been you! No one has ever burrowed under my skin like you have, Bridger. You drive me insane. I want to strangle you in one breath, then in the next you make my heart race. You’re rude, and impolite, and sexy, and sweet. I’ve never met anyone so full of themselves and so caring. You’ve always been so . . . perfectly broken to me and that’s why I love you so much.”
My body stills. Alexis closes her eyes and paces. She doesn’t even realize what she’s said, but I heard. Those are words I’ll never unhear. They dance on my tongue—I love Alexis Knight. I’ve loved her since she gave me a fat lip in the school library. But I swallow them, the risk of loving Alexis is losing her. I’ve lost her before, and it nearly destroyed me. But touching her, showing her what my mouth won’t say, that I can do.
I dissolve the space between us, pull her body against mine, my palm cups the side of her neck.
She draws in a shuddering breath. “Don’t, please. You’re one of the sure things in my life and I . . . I can’t risk us.”
“There isn’t a risk, Al. You already have me.”
Alexis closes her eyes, body tense. She’s trying to run, I see it in her face. I tighten my hold around her body.
A tear falls on her cheek. She wipes it away. “What do you want from me?”
“You. Every piece of me wants every piece of you.”
I can’t hold back another second and press my lips to hers.
Alexis gasps. I take it for my own. Her arms wrap around my neck, holding me against her as I back her to the dugout. My palms scoop beneath her thighs and I lift her onto the ledge of the wall barring the bench from the field. With her knees on either side of my hips, she curls a fist around my shirt and urges me closer.
I smile against her mouth. This is the way I should’ve kissed her years ago. Slow and patient. Gentle and seductive.
Her hands run up my chest. A groan escapes my throat as she parts her lips, allowing me a taste of her. My skin raises, wanting more, when her fingers rake through my hair. I drift my mouth to the soft spot of her neck. Memorize her jaw, her skin. Alexis holds me closer, her breaths heavy.
“This,” she says in a gasp. “This doesn’t mean—”
“Stop talking,” I say against her skin. “You like me, Alexis Knight. You like me a lot.”
She loves me.
I knew someday that beautiful, rambling mouth would let loose with something she couldn’t take back.
I’m not sure how long we stay there, but when we pull apart, heads together, we’re out of breath. Our hair is messier, shirts a little disheveled. I’ve never seen a sexier sight than Alexis flushed because my kiss was hers.
She plays with the ends of my hair and meets my eyes. “What are we doing, Bridge?”
“What we should’ve done a long time ago.” I kiss her nose, her cheeks, the crook of her neck until she’s laughing and pulling me close. My arms swallow her narrow body, and I’d be content to stay here all night.
“You’re still a thorn in my side,” I whisper, smiling.
“But one that dug deep inside, right?”
My chest tightens. I kiss her head. “Too deep. There’s no removing it at this point. Come on, let’s avoid the city for a night.”
“Where are we going?”
I open the passenger door, and kiss her before she gets into the jeep. “I’m going to bring my girl home to meet my mom.”
As we drive, Alexis curls her fingertips with mine. I steal glances of her soft smile the entire way. Part of me wondered if something would change. Would I pull back, would I never roll my eyes at her again?
But no. She’s the same Al. My Al.
She’s always been there, slowly reeling me into her whirlwind. There’s no doubt my heart started beating for her a long time ago, but time is funny. We’ve been with each other from the beginning, but this time, this feels as if the moment when we could drop all the walls between us aligned perfectly.
A song in my head. I need to write it down as soon as we stop. She inspires me.
I lift her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles.
Truth is, I would’ve waited indefinitely for Alexis Knight’s heart. It is worth everything.
Chapter 25
Alexis
Fall—2018
The knock is rapid and loud. It
’s after midnight and my hair stands up on end as I look out the peep hole. My breath catches. I’d recognize that tousled head of hair anywhere.
I crack the door. “Bridger?”
He lifts his eyes and tears fill mine. Red, wet, dilated. He’s completely thrashed.
“You look great. You can go home now.” I start to close the door.
“Al.” His voice is deep and raw. He pushes the door open and trips. I catch him, disgusted and broken all at once when he laughs. “S-sorry.”
He’s slurring and takes hold of the wall to steady himself.
“What do you want?” I ask, embarrassed how my voice breaks.
He chuckles and leans his head against the wall. “Ah, don’t cry Al. Don’t cry for me.”
“I’m not! I’m crying for how stupid I am for caring about you all this time. Go home, Bridger. I don’t have your drugs here.”
He holds out an arm to stop me from leaving. My heart cracks. Behind all the haze, the bloodshot eyes, is pain. Something so lost I don’t know how to reach it.
“Park . . . Parker told me.” He slumps over his knees, his eyes flutter. “Don’t marry him, Alexis.”
I roll my eyes. “Go away, Bridger. You’re drunk. Probably high.”
“I . . . wrote you a song.” His eyes are glassy and distant, but he still grimaces. As if he didn’t mean to admit it.
“Great. You’ve been avoiding me all this time and now you come to tell me you wrote me a secret song. Look at me swoon. Go home, Bridger.”
I go to open the door, but stop when he falls to his knees. His face is clammy and pale, but he’s still trying to talk. “I want you, Al. I’ve always wanted you.”
He looks ready to tip over, but I brace him with my body. On his knees, his head burrows into my middle. Bridger wraps his arms around my waist, and I hold him. He shudders, well, more like convulses.
I hold him tighter, and touch my lips to his forehead. “Bridge, you’re so cold.”
