by Emily Childs
His breaths are slow. They’re too slow. He slumps against me, arms falling away.
“Bridger?” I shake him, and he answers in a soft groan. “Bridger!”
The second I take a step back, he falls facedown. I scream his name again, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Rolling him onto his back, my hands are on his chest, his pulse. His skin is pallid, almost blue. His heartrate is faint and depressed.
“Bridger!” I scream in his face as the second bedroom door opens.
“What the?” Graham bolts out of Zoey’s room.
Zoey’s eyes are wide. “Lex, what happened? Is that Bridger Cole?”
I don’t care what they think, I’m smacking Bridger’s chest. His eyes flutter a little, then close again. I scream at Zoey to call an ambulance, then I bury my face against his neck and will his heart to keep beating. He smells like booze and smoke and sweat.
I leverage his head in my lap, holding him, sobbing. “Don’t you leave me, Bridger! I’ll hate you forever. Don’t you dare leave me!”
Please, please, please. I need him. My heart cracks. I love him.
Within ten minutes our apartment is a storm of paramedics and curious neighbors. I walk to the ambulance with Bridger. To keep touching him, to shield him.
Whenever someone talks to me on the ride to the hospital it’s as if they’re underwater. I wait in the hallway of the ER; Parker, Tate, and Adam are on their way with Holly and Brooks. A guy in a suit shows up before them. Probably one of Bridger’s people. They’ll do anything to keep this out of the media.
The suit looks at me. I ignore him.
I can’t think of anything else. Not through the haze of when his family, his band, when Parker arrives. I hardly hear the word overdose from the doctors, but I don’t need to hear it. I already know . . .
I jolt up on the long, oversized sectional. Shades are pulled, but the dawn spills enough light over the room the pieces of board games are visible, as well as the little scrunched ball of a boy in his sleeping bag on the floor.
Beau, Bridger’s nephew is here. My mind catches up now. I’m in the Cole’s basement. Brooks and his wife left late last night. Holly is upstairs, and we fell asleep on the couch.
Bridger isn’t gone.
We’re all here.
He’s alive.
I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Sweat beads my brow, my heart flutters violently. I swallow back the scratch in my throat. Rawness, as if I’ve been crying. Based on the dry tracks on my cheeks, I go out on a limb and assume I have been.
It’s been a long time since I dreamed of that horrible night. Bridger faded so quickly I was certain I’d lose him.
As if he knows I need a reminder he’s real, his strong arm tightens around my waist and draws me against his chest. I grin at his sleeping face. Here, with no scrutiny, no cameras, he can be at ease and it shows. Rolling onto my shoulder, I nuzzle into his chest, his stubble scratching my face when he smiles.
“Do you ever sleep in? This’ll be a source of contention, you know.”
I kiss his neck, his jaw, my fingers scratch his back. “Are you telling me this isn’t a decent wake-up call?”
Bridger buries his face in my hair, and sighs. “No. It’s perfect.”
We stay like that, holding tightly to each other, listening to little Beau snore in his sleep. After a long pause, Bridger runs his thumb over my cheeks and says, “Al, what dragons do I need to slay? You’re crying.”
“Bad dream,” I admit, and trace one of the rose tattoos on his arm. “Must’ve been from Bryce bringing up rehab. It was about the night you . . .”
I don’t finish. Bridger presses his lips to my forehead and draws me against his chest. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for doing that to you.”
“You should. I have.” I lift my eyes to his. They’re clear and bright, and I’m reminded how far he’s come. “But now I’m sorry. I’m sick inside because it’s my fault Bryce is doing this. I turned him down before you came to the restaurant, and I think this is pure retaliation—”
Bridger silences me with a gentle kiss. “Al, I’m only going to say this once, so listen.” I grin and slip my hands underneath his T-shirt to scratch his back. He shudders, and my new favorite thing is flustering Bridger Cole. He brushes a lock of hair off my face and lowers his voice. “The only reason this is even an issue is because I made stupid choices. Nothing in those emails is new. Everyone knows I went to rehab for addiction.”
“But the things we discussed are personal. He has no right broadcasting a terrible moment in your life.”
“You’re right. He doesn’t, but I had to learn a long time ago this sort of thing comes with the job.”
“Well, it’s a major con of the job, and I’m going to lose my mind every time it happens. So get ready, Cole.”
He smiles, adjusting so my head lays on his chest. “You’re feral, Al. And it’s super sexy.”
I’m not romantic. Over the years I made sure I didn’t get caught up in silly games, in fluttering hearts. But in his arms, his heart beating for me, I think I’ve been lying to myself all along. I’ve always wanted those things, but with him. No one else came close.
I’ve run from him all my life, used snark and rivalry to keep him at a distance. Little by little he weaseled his way into my shell, and I never want him to leave.
We almost fall back asleep, but are soon sabotaged by a three-year-old cannonballing onto our bellies.
For the next three hours we jump on the trampoline with Beau, help Holly clean out her garden boxes, and escape reality for a little longer.
“Lex, having you there through all this is a blessing,” Holly says. Jen and Brooks came back for lunch, and now Brooks is laughing with Bridger as he tries to teach Beau how to pluck the guitar.
“Seriously,” Jen says, lifting her sunglasses. “Brooks would never admit it, but he’s been losing his mind worrying about if this scandal would set Bridge back into old habits.”
I’m not the only one who shares a fear of Bridger backtracking. I glance at them, smiling. “He’s doing amazing. The other guys don’t even let Lance smoke around him. He’s binge drinking lemonade and Dr. Pepper, and he’s writing songs again.”
Jen’s lip trembles, but Holly takes my hand. “He’s writing songs because you’re there.”
“No,” I say, waving the thought away. “He would’ve gotten out of the slump eventually.”
Holly snickers. “Oh, Lex. You’ve never seen how much you open his heart. Parker is his second brother, but you’re his soul.”
“Oh, oh, you’re his muse.” Jen claps her hands with a sigh.
Holly agrees. “Always have been. Even when you two fought. Every second. Of every day.”
My stomach backflips, and I hide behind my glass of water. Jen and Holly laugh at me, but I love it. No mistake, I love it more when Bridger lifts his eyes and winks at me.
The morning is perfect, and when the sun begins to fade into evening I don’t want to leave.
“Come back, cookies are always waiting,” Holly says at the door.
I hug her again for good measure and slip the sunglasses Quinn gave me yesterday over my eyes. Bridger laces his fingers with mine, his baseball cap pulled low, and together we step around the bushes.
The cameras were there before the sun rose, but at least there are only two guys standing on the other side of the road instead of dozens. We ignore them and walk hand in hand to the passenger side of the door. I pause only when my mom’s door opens and she steps out onto the porch. She wears a look of remorse, but I’m not having this confrontation. Not here.
Bridger follows my gaze. “You okay?”
“No, but can’t say I’m surprised she got involved.”
“You said she didn’t know about the pictures. He might’ve taken her by surprise, too.”
“Still, haven’t heard an apology from her, have we?”
Bridger rolls his eyes and kisses me, unbothered with the clicks
of camera lenses. “I’m sorry they hurt you,” he whispers against my ear. “But let’s not worry about the emails or pictures right now. Can we just . . . be for now?”
I offer a smug grin and peck his lips. “I think you like me, Cole.”
Once he’s behind the wheel, he spins his cap backward and tugs me to him. “You have no idea, Al. Not a clue.”
Chapter 26
Alexis
“I’m going to shove his stupid head through one of those drums!” Ellie strangles an invisible neck as we head outside with Poppy.
The sun is hidden behind the mountains, the dusk paints the desert in purple twilight. I snicker and tell Ellie to stroke Poppy’s ears. She is the cure-all when it comes to irritating men.
“Why does Tate bother you so much?”
“He critiques everything I do. I’m surprised he doesn’t have an issue with how I breathe! I know I’m newer to the scene than Perfectly Broken, but he’s hated me from the beginning. I’m not hard rock. I’m not his competition. He’s a spoiled child, that’s what he is.”
I pause. “What do you know about Tate?”
She rolls her eyes. “Not much. Bridger told me he had a few rough patches as a kid, but haven’t we all? Why, what do you know?”
I hold up my hands. “Enough, but sorry, some things have to come from Tate’s mouth, not mine. Did something happen between you two, because he’s not typically rude.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes. I might talk a lot, but I don’t gossip.”
Ellie huffs and watches Poppy sniff an aloe plant. “A few years ago, before Enigma announced they signed me, I went to a party with the label. Most people assumed I was there because of Finn’s job as producer. Bridger knew I sang, so he introduced me to the guys.” Ellie pauses, mouth tight. “Let’s just say I had a little bit to drink, and next thing I knew I was backed against the wall, making out with Tate.”
“You’re kidding?”
She covers her face with her hands and lets out an embarrassed shriek. “No. I liked him. Lex, I liked him. The next day Enigma made the announcement to all the headliners and Tate looked like he wanted to toss me out the window. He’s been like this ever since.”
“And you’ve never asked why?”
“No. He’s like a brick wall. So I fell out of like and here we are. You’re lucky, I don’t see you and Bridger argue anymore.”
I spray a little spittle when I laugh. “Wait ten minutes and we’ll be sure to impress the pants off you with all our jabs.”
“So now that you’re really kissing the man it hasn’t eased up, huh?”
“I’m happy to say, no. He had the gall to make fun of my book this morning. A risky move since that’s how all our fighting started. I threatened to smack his mouth again, because I totally did when I was seven, and then somehow it all ended up with a lot sweeter of an ending.”
She laughs. “How is your brother taking it?”
I tighten my grip on Poppy’s leash and quicken my step.
“Uh-oh. He doesn’t know, does he?”
“It’s not that I’m embarrassed about anything. But I’d like to keep Bridger’s most valuable friendship intact while he’s dealing with this fallout. Why tell Parker too early? What if things go sideways? Parker would feel obligated to side with me and it’d be a mess.” I unhook Poppy’s leash and toss one of the giant tennis balls I bought for her.
Ellie comes to my side, arms folded. “Why do you talk like things won’t last with Bridger?”
Her tone is accusatory, and it means something that Ellie Walker is protective. The more people Bridger has in his corner the happier I am. Glad as I am she’s another she-wolf, I don’t want to have this conversation. Don’t want to admit to thoughts that keep me awake.
“Forget I said anything.”
“No way. Totally impossible. I like you, girl. Like I kind of feel like you’re my soul sister the way you handle these dumb rockstars, but I don’t want to watch that guy go through another Nadia.”
My body heats like an instinct hearing her name. “I am not Nadia. I’ve known Bridger since before I could talk and that’s what scares me. We’ve lived over two decades a certain way with each other, and now we’ve changed it all up.
“I’m not blind to what he is—yes, to me, he’s still the annoying, stubborn, ultra-sexy guy I’ve always known—but to the world, Bridger is a fantasy. He could have anyone. I push every single one of his buttons, I hate stilettos, hate shaving my legs, and would rather stay home and read gothic classics than party. There are a lot who’d say I don’t fit in his world. What happens if he realizes it and decides it’s better to keep things as we were—frenemies who don’t make out? Which would be a crime because I really, really love to kiss that man.”
Ellie listens, taking a turn to toss Poppy her ball. I’ve noticed when she thinks she’ll touch the pretty diamond stud pierced on the side of her nose. When she faces me, though, she takes my hand in hers. “I think I love you. You’re so adorably oblivious and it’s a breath of fresh air.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Oh, I heard. And while you’re worried about not fitting in his world, he’s busy trying to stay in yours.”
“I don’t follow.”
Ellie tilts her head. “You guys eat at home with his band, me, and my brother, three nights a week now. Before, I’d see the guys at the studio. Maybe text a bit. But we basically kept to ourselves. It’s like he wants a tight-knit family, a home base you could say. Side note—I can’t wait for the off season when your brother starts joining. He’s hot, girl. Simple as that.”
I chuckle. “He’s in town for two days before he goes to Colorado, so he’ll be at our breakfast tomorrow.”
“My day just got better. Anyway,” she goes on. “Bridger is changing. He brings books to the studio to read in between sets. Bridger lights up when you walk into the room. Full on, a shade lighter. He’s writing again, he’s smiling again. The way this stuff with Nadia simply rolls off his back is because the only person whose opinion matters to him is here, loving him.”
I consider what she’s saying. True enough, Bridger spends nights cooking with me. We laugh, argue our opinions, usually add an extra thirty minutes of prep time because we can’t stop touching. He burst into my room yesterday morning and stole three novels from my bookshelf before he kissed me goodbye to start recording a new Perfectly Broken single. For three weeks we’ve been caught in public kissing, cuddling, and laughing.
We’ve kind of meshed his busy life with my slower pace. And the way he touches me, the way he kisses me, he leaves little room for doubt about how he feels.
“You’re right,” I say with confidence. “I know Bridger. We’ve dealt with his fame for a decade now, so we can keep doing it.”
“That’s the spirit. Oh, and a quick warning. When Mallorie finds out you’re actually together, don’t let her disapproval bother you.”
“Explain.”
Ellie laughs. “Oh, it’s not only you. When I fall in love with your brother, she’ll hate me for it. She thinks we must remain single and symbolic, so any fan can think they’ll be the one to steal our hearts.”
I laugh and return the leash to Poppy’s collar. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ellie links her arm with mine. “Enough talk about you, tell me how to win over a pro baseball player.”
“Well, have an in with his friends would be my first tip. Him and Tate are super close, so—”
Ellie groans at the sky. “Why does Hawkins ruin everything!”
Gaining a new friend with Ellie is a bright consequence of being left at the altar.
But after she goes home for the night my favorite moments are this: Bridger sprawled back on the couch, fingertips red and calloused from playing all day, unaware I’m gawking at his face.
I drop to my hands and knees and creep behind the couches until I’m crouched by his head.
I pounce. He jumps, stops swearing
mid-cuss word. Then, glowers at me and somehow maneuvers his arms around my shoulders, so I practically somersault over the back of the couch and onto his body.
“You’re a creep, Al,” he says, hugging me to his chest.
“You should’ve read the fine print when it comes to making me yours. If I see an opportunity to scare you, startle you, or make you scream like a little girl, I will unequivocally take it. There isn’t a return policy, Bridger, so you’re going to need to deal with it.”
He leaves a trail of kisses on my neck, smiling against my skin. “I agree with this no return policy. One hundred percent.”
I nestle against his shoulder, playing with the rings on his fingers. “So I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous. Stop it now.”
I press a kiss in the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his ear until he’s holding me closer and he’s mine to control. “I want your opinion. I’ve been thinking of it for a long time, so try your hardest not to make fun of it the second I get it out.”
Bridger maneuvers us so we’re lying side by side. I hook a leg over his as he runs his fingers through my hair. “I like your ideas.”
“Correction. You steal my ideas.”
“Al, one time. Once. And can you blame me? The PVC candy gun was a pretty cool idea.”
“Yeah, and everyone thought you were the coolest because of it.”
“Are you still mad at me?” His eyes simmer in seductive heat. Bridger kisses me, deeper, sweeter, than before. “Want me to make up for it? I have a lot of ideas on how I can say sorry.”
I grip his T-shirt, at a loss to what I was talking about when his palm slowly marks each divot on my spine. I shiver and curl into him.
“No.” I smack his chest. “Ten minutes of focus, then I’m all yours.”
“Five.”
I consider his beautiful mouth and nod. “Five. Okay, I’ve been trying to figure out what direction I want to go professionally once I graduate. I’m not sure I want to do a lot of librarian work.”
“Al, you’re getting a Library Science degree.”
“I know, hear me out. Not a conventional library at least. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a love for books, and I’ve dissected some of my reasons why.” I spin the diamond stud in his ear and lower my voice. “I used books to escape the bad things.”
