Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

  He puts his hand on Megan’s shoulder in a too familiar way. “And this is Megan Meyers.”

  “Russell is my dad,” she adds.

  “Wow, that’s great.” My response is genuine, but I hope Mason doesn’t screw this up by sleeping with his client. With the awkward timer about to hit zero, I say, “Well, Mollie and I are going to head to the bar.”

  “It was nice meeting you both,” Mollie tells them.

  “You too,” they both reply together.

  At the bar, I ask Mollie what she wants to drink. “Whatever beer you’re having… You are having a beer, right?”

  “Hell yeah.” I lean in next to her ear. “My kind of girl.”

  “Well, I’m not as cool as you think. I have to be careful of mixed drinks and the sugar.”

  I’d almost forgotten about that. I guess being a nurse gives her one up on the disease, if that’s what you call it. “Hey, you’re still cool in my book.” I gesture to the bar. “Is it cool we just sit at the bar or you want a table?”

  “No, the bar is great. More to look at.”

  I can’t disagree with that. Mollie has her hair down in soft waves. I’ve wanted to touch it all night but resisted and now in this “non-family” setting I can’t take my eyes off her.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, wondering what she was referring to. I look at the tall bartender with the fancy hair and back at her, lifting my brow.

  “I don’t mean that. It’s just cool watching them make drinks.”

  We grab two open stools and sit when the bartender comes over and takes our order. The bar is busy enough that it’s entertaining but not so loud we can’t have a conversation. Still, I reach over with both hands, grasp the bottom of her wooden stool, and slide her over so she’s closer. “Tough to hear each other talk,” I tell her.

  She nods and shows me her pearly whites. The bartender sets down our ales, and she immediately reaches for hers and takes a big sip. Yep, my kind of woman. She sets her beer down and shoots me a curious grin.

  “What?” I say, wondering if I’ve got something in my teeth.

  “Sometimes I smile in awkward situations, or when I get nervous.”

  “What have you got to be nervous about?”

  “For one, you’re staring at me,” she says, bouncing her gaze from my eyes to over my shoulder.

  “I’m guessing you’re used to men staring at you.”

  I see the faintest of pink creep up her cheeks. “And…” She gathers the ends of her hair, strokes at the purple and then flings it back over her shoulder. I could watch that all night. My own little Mollie channel. “Don’t you see this is the first time we’ve been together where the sole purpose is spending time together?”

  I narrow my eyes at her a moment. Then I turn away and stare into the bar mirror as if lost in thought. Without looking back at her I say, “Shit, you’re right.” I take a long pull from my beer. “Now you’ve got me nervous.” I snap my fingers and then turn to look at her. “Only way to fix this is to do something purposeful.”

  “What does that mean? Like we have to do something productive? Want to make a list of—”

  “Or, I could kiss you.” I fix her with an intense stare.

  Her mouth falls open, her eyes wide.

  “Well, that’s a start,” I tell her, “but I was hoping for something a little more…sensual?”

  She chokes on a laugh and then smacks my arm. “Nice try.”

  Her wrist is resting on the bar and I catch sight of her bracelets. I reach over, put my hand on her arm and brush my thumb across the soft woven grooves of the middle one. “I wasn’t kidding.”

  “Tell me why you do that?” she says as she places her free hand over mine.

  “Do what?”

  “That…with my bracelet. You’ve done it before.”

  Now that she mentions it, I recall that I have. “Maybe I just like to have a reason to touch you.”

  “Is that all?”

  Her question hits me square in the chest because now I know I’ve done it to Belle’s bracelet too, but if I tell her that she’ll probably think I’ve got OCD or maybe I’ve got some secret obsession with jewelry. “I thought you were a nurse, not a psychologist. What’s the big deal?”

  Her eyes peer into mine, like I’ve just asked her to marry me or something. “Tell me something about yourself, Logan. Anything.”

  Chapter 14

  Logan

  “You think we don’t know each other?”

  “Do we?”

  I take another drink of my beer and she follows my lead. Hell, yeah, I want to get to know her, but there are things in my life I’d rather not think about, so how can I share? I’m a freaking manny, and before that, my whole life was the military and my recovery. I got nothing. “Too bad I didn’t marry you in that class when I had the chance.” I pull my phone from my pocket. “I just remembered I need to call Justice and tell him to drag the cans out to the curb. He’ll just ignore me if I text.”

  She cocks her head like I’m avoiding her questions, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “When I get back, we’ll talk all about jewelry. We can do makeovers too if you want.”

  I step off my stool and over to the hallway by the restrooms. When I call Justice, he doesn’t pick up. I leave a lame voicemail that I’m sure he’ll ignore. Then I quickly check my messages and when I look up, a guy is standing next to Mollie, talking to her.

  I see her smile at him and it doesn’t look any different than the one she shows me, which kind of pisses me off. I’d expected one of those plastered polite deals that uninterested women give men until they leave.

  As I sidle up right behind the two, she laughs, and my heart is strangled when her wannabe dimple appears. That’s my fucking dimple. I don’t say anything, waiting for them to acknowledge me.

  “You need something, buddy?” the guy says, looking me straight in the eye. His face says annoyed, as if he’d invested the night instead of arriving literally seconds ago.

  “Not a thing…except maybe for you to go find a seat somewhere. You’re blocking my chair.”

  He ignores my words and dips his head in Mollie’s direction. “He your boyfriend?”

  “No,” she tells him.

  That blows me out of the water. Of course, I’m not her boyfriend, but telling him straight up “no” wounds me.

  “Maybe I could get your number,” he tells her.

  Am I not standing right freaking here?

  I laugh. Out loud, because no matter what, it’s ridiculous that she’d give a guy her number when she came with me. Isn’t it?

  “Hey, man. We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

  I can hear him, but I’m no longer looking at him. My eyes are burning a hole into the side of Mollie’s head, waiting for her to set him straight. Then I see the slow twist of her body, her eyes flicking my way, and the easy grin take over her mouth. Either she’s really enjoying my pain, or she’s getting off stringing this guy along. Either way, I’m relieved that smile is not for this jackass.

  “She just said you weren’t her boyfriend,” the guy reiterates.

  I already feel like a first-class idiot, but my next words will boost me into champion status. “Yeah, well, I’m her…somebody. So, you can leave now.”

  He scoffs. “What the hell is a somebody?”

  “It’s the person who makes sure you don’t do stupid shit like giving your number to a douche at a bar.”

  He looks at Mollie as if she’s going to correct me. She shrugs with a head tilt but her face clearly gives him confirmation. When he turns his attention back to me, she covers her mouth to hold back a laugh.

  “Screw both of you.” He takes a step back and lifts his drink. “She’s not hot enough for me to kick your ass.”

  When I see he’s not going to come back, I take my seat next to her.

  “Oh, my God!” she says with a laugh. “I didn’t take you for the alpha male type.”

  “I’m not a
n alpha male.” But if she could see the vision my anger conjured up, she wouldn’t believe my words. Seeing another guy press up on her… It brought out the beast and I wanted to claim her as mine, take her home, and show her just what we could be together.

  “You’re definitely not the stereotype.” She thinks for a moment. “You’re sort of like a pit bull disguised as a labradoodle.”

  “Whatever that means.” I take a much-needed gulp of my beer. “And thanks for nothing, by the way.” I meant the words as a joke but as the reality of them sets in, I grow angry and I can’t look at her.

  After a moment of cold silence between us, she touches my arm. “Hey, you’re really pissed?”

  I shake my head, partly more annoyed with myself that I let the negative thoughts take over. I turn to her. “I know we said we would just be friends, and I want to be your friend…but it just keeps feeling like we’re inching toward something more.” I sigh and gesture past her. “And I guess that little scene gave me a dose of reality I don’t want to think about.”

  “For the record, I couldn’t have cared less about that guy.”

  “I figured, but he represents possibilities, and I guess I’m jealous of that.”

  She snickers and I can see it’s obviously at my expense. “So, you’re jealous of my possibilities?”

  “I guess I am, yeah,” I say matter-of-factly. I touch her face with the palm of my hand, and I feel her press into it. “I know you’ve been feeling the same thing I have, so why do we need to stop it?”

  She blinks slowly. “We both agreed it would be better…safer to be friends. I still think that’s important.”

  “I do want to be your friend, but maybe we could be something more.” I grin and raise my brows. “Like friends with…”

  “Benefits? Is that what you were going to say?”

  I shrug. “Only if it sounds like a great idea to you.” I hold my breath, waiting, though I’m totally winging it.

  “Really?” she says, looking nervous—wait, I think that’s annoyance.

  I let out the breath I was holding. “Well, no, not really. I would never expect that from you,” I tell her and realize I genuinely mean it. “I was thinking more like friends with…perks.”

  She giggles but tilts her head as if to challenge my proposal. “Perks?”

  “You know, like doing things like this where we go out, away from the family. Maybe touch each other a little more, or maybe I could even kiss you instead of fighting it.” I lean in so our faces are close enough to feel each other’s breath and I whisper, “I mean who doesn’t like a little kissing, right?”

  Her eyes avert mine and she backs away, picks up her beer. “You’ve been fighting an urge to kiss me?”

  “Hell, yeah. And I know you have too. It’s not like I would expect sex.”

  Her head snaps back in my direction. “Good, because that’s definitely out of the question.”

  “Well, yeah…I guess. I mean…why?” I immediately regret the question because I don’t want to hear some excuse that has nothing to do with my leg when we both know it’s a factor.

  “Dammit, Logan. I see the wheels turning behind those eyes. Don’t start acting like this is about your leg.”

  “What? I wasn’t. So, it’s about the kids? You still don’t trust me…my family?”

  She puts her hand on my thigh, assuring me she has no idea what it’s like to be a man. I try not to focus on the heat transfer and wait for her answer. I put my arm around the back of her chair as she assures me it’s not my family and it’s not my leg, though I’m drifting in and out of fantasyland, so I don’t catch all of her words, until I hear the word baggage. I catch her gaze and freeze. “Mollie, who the hell doesn’t have baggage?”

  “I know, but before I get in a relationship with anyone, I want to feel like we can open up to each other, get to know everything there is to know. And you and I…we haven’t exactly been open books with each other.”

  I get it, but I’m not ready to give up. “Won’t those things come naturally if we just…get a little closer? Seems to me friends with perks is just the way to get past that stuff.”

  She turns in her seat, facing me straight on, her knees pressed against me. “So, you’re saying you’d be willing to open up to me about what happened to you?”

  I guess this isn’t as clear as I thought. “I don’t know why this is so important to you.”

  She pauses, seeming to consider her words, but all she says is, “It just is.”

  “Look, I did all this in therapy. But the truth is…you can’t talk about what you don’t remember.”

  She looks conflicted. Sad. “You really don’t remember? Not anything?”

  I run my hand threw my hair, growing more frustrated by the minute. Maybe she’s right. If I can’t talk about this stuff, maybe I’m not ready for this. For her. “Look, all I know is one minute, we were in the Humvee shooting the shit and making fun of Finch’s missing tooth, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in Landstuhl Regional in Germany.”

  Mollie’s eyes turn glassy before I get to the end of my sentence. “I’m sorry.”

  That right there. That is why this is so fucked up. What’s the point of trying to drudge stuff up? “Yeah, me too. I’m not trying to be closed off. But like I said, I don’t remember the worst parts and I’m grateful for that. I only recall fragments that come and go. To be honest, I’m scared as hell that one day it will all come back. Shrink said it was possible.” And let’s face it. Does Mollie really want to know I’m the kind of guy who would shut out the only other survivor just because I don’t want to face what happened? Jennings didn’t deserve the freeze out I gave him. I take a deep breath, reach out, and grab her hand. “So, you see, maybe if I don’t think about it or talk about it, I can keep it at bay.”

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you on this, Logan. I’m sorry.” A tear spills down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb.

  We stare at each other in understanding for a few moments before my attempt to lighten the mood. “Well this has turned really fucking depressing.”

  She shakes her head and sighs. “This is all my fault. I—”

  “Hey, I get it,” I say, thumbing another tear. “My past makes you nervous so you need to know, now let’s turn off the water works.” I smile, hoping to get one in return.

  “But I can see now how much this pains you…and I won’t pressure you to talk about it anymore.”

  I take in a cleansing breath, relief filling me. Just sharing that small piece took me too close to the darkness I’ve been trying so hard to avoid. “Thank you.”

  She finally smiles but her eyes don’t match, so I try harder, hoping to salvage the night. “Um, is that a yes or no on the whole perks thing?”

  She leans into me, puts her hand behind my neck, peering into my eyes before pressing her angel soft lips to mine. It’s not a lustfully hot prelude kiss, but it’s more than enough. Because it feels like a promise. It feels like possibilities. “Let’s play it by ear,” she says.

  Chapter 15

  Logan

  In the darkness, I shudder from the cold, sweat painting my skin. I’ve finally slowed my breathing after waking with a scream caught in my throat. I’m grateful I don’t call out any more. That was before I moved in here, and I’d hate to scare the kids. Though some things have gotten better with time, I still feel the lost, lurking memories fighting to break from the shadows. I dread that day. All I want is to keep the good memories intact and keep the flashes of horror buried in my subconscious. My friends…my brothers…are gone, and I just want to remember them during our best days. Not our worst.

  I drift off again and sometime later, I feel a gentle shaking on my shoulder and blink awake to the blurry dimness of my room. Figuring it is still too early to get up, I flip over to face the wall.

  “Logan,” a whispered voice says behind me.

  At first, I ignore it, hoping it will just go away.

  This time the wh
isper comes with another shoulder shake. “Logan, come on.”

  “Okay,” I grumble. I scoot to the edge, assuming some kid in this house had a nightmare and this is always their destination.

  I feel the covers being pulled from my body, and I flip back over to give someone an earful. My brothers, Justice and Ryder, are standing there, staring down at me. “Dangerous territory,” I grumble. They know better than to wake me at, whatever the hell time this is. Startling me from a sleep is a risky endeavor. I’ve never hurt any of them, but Justice once witnessed a mild panic attack I’m sure he could have done without. And at this moment, panic hits me for a different reason. I quickly sit upright. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’.” Justice grabs my sweatpants from the floor and chucks them at my chest. “Get dressed.”

  Before I can give them the third degree, Ryder starts jumping up and down like he’s using an invisible jump rope. “It’s training time, Lo. Come on. You promised.”

  “I promised this? You waking me up at”—I pick up my phone to check the time—“you’ve got to be kidding me. And you do realize it’s a Saturday, right?”

  “I told you, man,” Justice says to Ryder, smacking him in the arm.

  Ryder sits next to me on the bed. “We have to step up your workouts if you’re going to qualify in regionals.” Even in the dim lighting, I can see the pleading in his eyes. It is at this moment, I realize how much this means to him. I guess I thought it was sort of a fantasy thing, and the idea would just fade away. Yeah, the workouts are great and aren’t much more than I was doing in the two years of hard-core physical punishment I gave myself after the standard PT. But now the shit is getting real. Especially if Justice is on board.

  I hold my fist out for him to bump. “What’s the plan, Ry?”

  Ryder’s lips curve up and he looks at Justice, whom I assume was only along for kicks or maybe to do his own workout for football. “This was my plan, but we need to hurry up,” Justice says.

  We’re not in the car long before we arrive at our destination. “What’s he doing here?” I ask as we get out and I spot Justice’s annoying friend, Turner, walking out of the gym.