by KT Grant
Chapter Nineteen
The soft moan coming from the bed made Deborah sit up in her chair. She winced over the ache in her jaw and carefully stood.
“Bridgette?” She sat on the edge of the hospital bed, almost grabbing hold of Bridgette's hand, but instead placing her own in her lap.
The heart machine let off a few beeps as Bridgette shifted and opened her eyes. She blinked and licked her lips. “Water?” she requested in a croak.
Deborah limped over to the table and poured water from the plastic pitcher into a cup, then came back over to the bed. She kept an arm behind Bridgette's back as she helped her drink. Bridgette took a few sips, and when she was done she lay back down. Deborah looked away, trying to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.
“Hey you.” Bridgette lightly hit her arm and rested her hand over Deborah's cold limp ones. “Why, your hands are so cold,” Bridgette said sadly and rubbed them.
Deborah removed her hands and sniffed. “I was so scared you were going to die…” she whispered and wiped under her eyes.
“Come here.” Bridgette tugged on Deborah's T-shirt and Deborah lay down on her side as she hid her face into the side of Bridgette's arm.
Bridgette's touch against her hair and cheek soothed her, and she glanced up, wincing at the bright white bandage around Bridgette's bright hair and the black-and-blues covering her face. “You must hate me.”
“Hate you? Why would you think such a thing?” Bridgette asked, giving her a small smile, but she flinched and touched her swollen lip with her finger.
“I'm the reason you're in the hospital,” Deborah said through her tears.
“Why would you think that? You didn't smack me around.” Wrinkles appeared on Bridgette's forehead. “I can't remember what happened.” She lifted up her arm where the IV poked out. “How long have I been out for?”
“Almost forty-eight hours. After I was taken care of, they let me sit in here until you woke up. All day long your friends and family have been coming in.” Deborah sat up as she thought back to seeing Bridgette's parents and being questioned by them. When she admitted everything and why Bridgette had been targeted, to say they were less than pleased with her was an understatement. Bryan barely looked at her even when he stayed with her when two detectives came to question her.
“Jesus, Deborah, if you look anything like I do, I don't even want to see a mirror for a month.”
Deborah let out a watery laugh and fingered her throat where the red handprints had yet to fade.
“I'm so, so sorry about what happened to you,” Deborah tugged on a hangnail on her thumb.
“Why are you apologizing? You weren't the one who beat me up,” Bridgette said and tried to sit up.
“No, stay down,” Deborah instructed and got up from the bed. She wrapped her arms around her waist and went back over to her chair. She couldn't be close to Bridgette without wanting to kiss her.
“Why are you all the way over there and why haven't you kissed me since I've woken up?” Bridgette turned to her side, facing her with a pout.
“Why would you want me to even touch you? I'm the reason my wife attacked you.”
“So, she's the one who bashed my head in,” Bridgette said more to herself. “But she went after you as well. Where is she now?”
“She's dead.” Deborah's lips trembled. “I think your brother shot her, or another officer did. She was able to get into the house through the front door I left unlocked for you. I was upstairs when I heard Rotquel barking very loudly as I was getting our bath ready. I noticed the light I left on downstairs went out. Thinking the bulb had burnt out, I went down and Gen was there waiting with a gun. She told me she had you hidden somewhere and if I didn't do what she wanted, she'd kill you. I thought…I was so stupid thinking she had time to hide you somewhere.” Deborah released a shaky sigh. “I fought her, actually threw a lamp at her head, and tried to run out of the house, but she caught me and started beating me until the police, your brother, crashed through the door and saved me.”
“All I remember was Rotquel making a lot of noise and I couldn't figure out why she was acting so strangely. Before I could get my house keys out, something hard hit me on the back of my head. I blacked out and woke up to bright lights and Mrs. Heckel over me.” Bridgette looked down at her red, scraped palms and Deborah swallowed uncomfortably.
“It's a good thing for Rotquel. If not for her insane barking and your nosy neighbor coming home at the right moment, we might have been lying in a cold room with sheets over our faces instead of being in here,” Deborah said.
“Even lying in this bed with the worst headache I've ever had, it's great to be alive.” Bridgette gave her a cheery smile and held out her hand.
Deborah purposely ignored Bridgette's reach and wiped her damp palms over her knees. “I can get the nurse to bring you some aspirin for your head, if you want.” She began to stand when Bridgette sat up.
“Stop moving around. You're in too much pain.” Deborah sat back, wanting so much to help Bridgette, to touch her. But if she did, she'd never let her go.
“There, that feels better.” Bridgette panted as she moved a pillow behind her back.
“I have to leave.” Deborah blurted out and finally stood. The sooner she did this, the better.
Bridgette frowned. “Oh? I guess you still have to talk to the police about what happened. Afterward, come back and we can hang out together. I'll be here all day and night,” she joked.
“Bridgette.” Deborah lifted her thumb to nibble on her nail. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped. “I won't be coming back. I already talked with the police after I was given a clean bill of health. I have to go back to Nevada and figure out Gen's funeral arrangements.”
“Why would you plan her funeral after all she put you through? I hope the dead bitch is rotting in hell.”
Deborah wrapped her arms around her waist and moved to the end of the bed. “She was my wife and I did love her, even after everything. She had no other family, only me. I have to go back to take care of the house, any debts, and possibly her company. I also have to see about my mother's arrangements as well.”
“I'm being selfish, aren't I?” Bridgette tapped her fingers over the blanket. Deborah wanted to place her own hand over those amazing digits of Bridgette's that made her feel safe and loved. “It's something I don't want to do, but I have to. I'm dreading going back and dealing with the talk and looks. I'm not sure when I'll be back here, if ever.”
The shocked look on Bridgette's face broke her heart. She bit down on her lip and cleared her throat.
“What does that mean for us? You're just going to walk out of here and forget what we have?” Bridgette asked in a wounded voice.
Deborah shrugged. “You've made my time in Woodberry Creek one I'll never forget. I can't promise you anything right now. I need time to figure things out. There's so much I have to do.”
“Deb, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. No one can force you to do anything ever again. You're finally free, with no controlling wife to tell you what to do. For once in your life, you're your own woman.”
“You say that, but you want me to do what you think is right. If I'm with you, I can't be free, as you just said.”
Bridgette exhaled loudly. “You're twisting my words. I want you to—”
“Did you just hear what you said? It's what you think is best. Gen used to say that exact same thing to me all the time. It was always what she wanted.”
“I can't believe you're comparing me to that psycho—”
“Bridgette!” Deborah said in a hoarse shout. Bridgette went silent and crossed her arms, turning her head away from her.
“I'm not saying it's over between us, just that we need a break.” Deborah walked around to the side of the bed and placed her palm lightly against Bridgette's cheek. Bridgette still wouldn't look at her as she stiffened with hurt. “There's so much I need to work through, and if I'm with you and ignore
my life back in Nevada and everything that has happened, I'll be in a worse position than I'm already in. I've run away too many times and look where it got me. Look where it got you.”
Bridgette grabbed hold of her hand in a tight grip. “I know where it got me. It brought you into my life.” She rubbed her cheek against Deborah's palm.
Tears built up in Deborah's eyes from the sudden surge of love she had for Bridgette. She sobbed as she leaned down and gave Bridgette what was to be a gentle kiss. Bridgette sighed and pulled her down lower, her lips sucking and tongue swiping in deep strokes over her lips until Deborah opened her mouth and allowed Bridgette inside.
She swallowed Bridgette's passionate sounds with her kisses, her fingers brushing gently over Bridgette's face and neck, moving down to cup her breasts, wanting to press her back on the bed and keep kissing her until they both couldn't breathe.
When she dropped one knee on the bed and Bridgette tugged her down, a muscle in her side cramped and she gasped, breaking off the kiss. She backed away, staring at a very red-faced, out-of-breath Bridgette.
“Stay with me,” Bridgette pleaded and held out her hand. She wiped her bottom lip that had split and begun clotting with her blood.
Shaking her head, Deborah grabbed her bag and walked toward the door. Bridgette called out her name again and Deborah stopped with her hand on the doorknob.
“I'll call you when I'm back in Nevada so you know I'm safe. Then…I'll see what happens.”
“Deborah! Don't walk away from me. We're not done yet.”
Deborah opened the door and quickly looked back at Bridgette, who was reaching across the bed with both her arms out. Tears were falling down her cheeks. Deborah wiped away her own.
“What if I told you I loved you? Would that change things?” Bridgette asked.
Deborah covered her mouth and shook her head. “Gen told me she loved me all the time. Those words mean nothing to me,” she declared and stepped out into the hallway.
“I'm not her!” Bridgette shouted out.
Deep, wracking sobs flowed through Deborah's body as she rushed down the hall. When she turned the corner, Bridgette's parents and Bryan were talking with a doctor. Not wanting a confrontation, she turned the other way. Bryan glanced her way. She stopped and shook her head, backing away. He started to move toward her, but she twisted and ran, finding the staircase and flew down all four flights of stairs.
She reached the main level and went out into bright sunlight that burned her eyes. A few people she passed gave her strange looks, but she ignored them. She walked as fast as she could even with the ache in her side, not wanting to be caught by Bryan, who the moment he saw how upset Bridgette was would certainly place the blame on her.
Only when she found a taxi and was driven back to her house to start packing to catch a flight back to the life she'd left behind did the pain burning in her abused muscles subside.
The ache in her heart continued and her tears never let up, even after she arrived back at her old home, where she started to pick up the broken pieces of her life.
Chapter Twenty
The windshield wipers removed the yellow and brown leaves off her window, as well as the rain, as Bridgette drove back home from the vet. She glanced back at her dog, who lay flat on the backseat with her head on her paws. Rotquel let out a sharp whimper, then a soft bark with bleak eyes.
“I know baby, I'm feeling the same way,” Bridgette said over her shoulder at Rotquel, who snorted and wagged her tail in response.
The autumn had been a wet one. Bridgette couldn't remember the last time she'd seen blue skies. Probably the last day when she woke up in the hospital and Deborah had been sitting there.
Bridgette could barely ignore the burning in her chest. Almost three months later and she couldn't get past her depression and her loss of Deborah, who only called her once to tell her she'd arrived back home safe and was well.
Nevada wasn't her home. Her home was in Woodberry Creek and with Bridgette.
Far too many times she'd wanted to call Deborah back and beg her to return, to make a new home with her where she'd never be mistreated again.
But she gave Deborah the space she needed, to come to terms about herself her and her losses.
Rotquel pressed her nose against the window, barking loudly as she drove into her driveway. A shiver went up Bridgette's spine as she turned off her car.
Deborah was standing on her porch.
“Oh, boy,” Bridgette mumbled and took in a deep breath. Rotquel walked across the seat, wanting to get out.
Bridgette calmly got out of her car and opened the back door for Rotquel. Even before she could put a leash on her, Rotquel shot up the steps to Deborah.
Bridgette slid her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, soaking in Deborah's happy smile as she knelt before Rotquel and hugged her. She wore a long brown trenchcoat and dark blue jeans with black boots. Her hair had grown longer and was lighter, with blond and auburn highlights that brushed over her ears. Bridgette wanted to pull her fingers through the multi-colored strands and hide her face in the crook of Deborah's neck, breathing in her scent, this time not allowing Deborah to walk away from her.
She was becoming drenched from the rain. She locked up her car and climbed her front steps, rain falling down her face and making her normally unruly hair a frizzy mess.
“You look well,” she said as Deborah rose to her full height. Rotquel pranced in circles around her.
Deborah's smile grew. She looked relaxed and happy, as if the constant weight she carried on her shoulders had disappeared.
“I am. You look great also,” she replied.
Bridgette snorted. “I barely had time to brush my hair this morning. I woke up late for Rotquel's vet appointment. Plus the rain always does a number on my hair. Today I'm channeling the seventies with my ’fro.”
Deborah's shoulders jiggled from her silent laughter and Bridgette went still when Deborah tugged on one of her curls. “It makes sense since you love the music from that decade.”
Bridgette stepped around Deborah and unlocked her door. “Why don't you come in? I can put on coffee and give you a slice of the apple pie I baked last night.”
Rotquel rushed in the house and shook her body hard. Water fell to the floor and Bridgette rolled her eyes. When she glanced behind her, Deborah pulled the door shut and looked around the room.
“It just feels great to be back, although the weather was a shock, especially coming from the dry, sunny heat,” Deborah said and took off her coat.
Bridgette held the canister of coffee she grabbed from the freezer as she stared from Deborah's face to her chest that was enclosed in a white polo shirt. She hid her reaction over the way Deborah's nipples poked through the shirt.
“You're staring,” Deborah said softly.
“You need to invest in a new bra,” Bridgette volleyed back pertly and turned to put the coffee on as Deborah laughed behind her.
“I really do need more padded bras to hide my embarrassing condition.” Deborah sighed. “It's so great to see you again, Ridge.”
Bridgette pressed her palms down on the counter. “And whose fault is it that you haven't seen me in months?” She twisted around, facing Deborah who patted Rotquel's head. “Why did you only call me once? Just to say ‘hey, no need to worry about me now because I'm back where I belong’?”
“Bridgette,” Deborah whispered and walked over to her. Even when Deborah took hold of her hands, she didn't acknowledge her. Not until her chin was lifted and Deborah's mouth came down upon hers.
If she thinks she can come along and kiss me and everything will be all right, she has another…oh…more, please.
Bridgette moaned when Deborah's kiss turned more passionate, her lips moving across her own in a deep suction that had Bridgette growing damp. She couldn't deny herself and latched onto Deborah in a tight embrace until she pushed her hands under Deborah's shirt and pulled on the tight nipples she'd once spent hours worshipping.
Deborah broke the kiss and rested her forehead against hers, panting deeply as she continued to caress her breasts.
“I've missed you so much,” Deborah said in a heated plea.
Bridgette licked her lips, lifting up to kiss Deborah again when Deborah rubbed her thumb over her mouth.
“We need to talk first before we love one another.”
Bridgette's hands shook as she moved back and rubbed her hands through her hair. “Love?”
Deborah tilted her head and tugged down her shirt. “Yes-yes. I think so.”
You think so? Bridgette kept that question to herself and tapped her fingers over her hips. Deborah was right. They needed to talk and lay everything on the table, so to speak.
“Sit down, then. Would you like some pie?” Bridgette asked as she pulled the dish out of the refrigerator.
Deborah sat on a chair and folded her hands on her lap. “That would be great. How about some of your homemade lemonade?”
Bridgette put the pie on the table and went to get plates and forks. “Sorry, no lemonade. I only make it in the summer. But if you don't want coffee, I have iced tea.”
“Iced tea would be great,” Deborah responded.
After Bridgette served Deborah, she didn't eat or drink anything, just watched her eat. The way Deborah's tongue came out and licked away the juice from the crust almost made her excuse herself to go into the bathroom to masturbate. She could barely sit still with Deborah so near. But she held back. She wanted explanations from Deborah, and until she got them, she wouldn't receive any relief, or give any in return.
“You've gained more weight,” Bridgette said and quickly covered her mouth.
Deborah's eyes went wide and she put her fork down on the table.
Oh shit. “Deb, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. You look great and healthy, glowing, actually—”
“I no longer look like a grasshopper with an alien head?” Deborah asked in a wry voice and drank from her glass.
Bridgette's face grew warm and she chugged down her drink. “I wouldn't say that, but when I first met you…you did look too skinny, at least to me.”
