Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

  I’m not sure what’s going to happen next but I decide it doesn’t matter. We lie with each other so long my eyes drift close.

  I don’t know how much time has passed but wetness in my hands awakens me. The room is dark so he must have turned the TV off at some point. I’d fallen asleep caressing his hair and now his head feels soaked. From what I know and what he’s told me, my first guess is he’s probably had a nightmare. I wipe his forehead and smooth the dampened hair away. “Logan,” I whisper.

  His head shakes and his whole body clenches around me. One of his hands grips my arm a little too tightly, and I’m so scared if I wake him too suddenly I could make it worse. But I can’t do nothing, so I try again. “Logan,” I whisper a bit louder this time. “It’s okay, Logan. I’m here.”

  He gasps and lifts his head. I can barely see his face before he rolls off me and onto his back.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m…good.”

  I give him some time to get his bearings. I turn on my side and face him, place my hand on his chest. After a couple minutes, I scoot closer and lay my head next to my hand. “How often does that happen?”

  I listen to him breath and wait.

  “Depends. Used to happen all the time. Then it got better and was only once in a while.”

  He clearly leaves his thought unfinished so I wait again. When I grow impatient, I ask, “And now?”

  “For some reason, it’s been happening more lately.”

  Though I had a feeling he’d say that, my gut still twists in knots. My throat thickens, and I don’t say what I’m thinking. “Do you remember the nightmares?”

  He pauses and this time I don’t wait. “Was it about what happened to you?”

  “Assuming so. When I wake up, I never remember— Well sometimes I remember bits of it…like what we were doing right before.”

  “I know you said you don’t want to remember. Are you afraid the dreams will bring it back?”

  I can feel his chest moving more rapidly but I still press on. “Maybe you should—”

  “Let it go!”

  His harsh tone startles me. I’ve never heard his voice so agitated, and knowing I brought it on brings tears of frustration to my eyes. But I won’t make it worse by crying. I pull in a deep breath. “Logan, I—”

  “Mollie, no.” His tone is pleading now, softer. “I’m sorry.” He lifts his arm and wraps it around me, pulling me closer. “Mollie, please, I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not. I’m just worried about you. You mentioned therapy. Do you still go?”

  “No.” His voice still has a hint of irritation to it, so I stay quiet, and we both merely breathe for a few moments before he speaks again.

  “It’s pretty standard. When you go through all I did. The accident, the operations, getting used to the leg…they expect you to do lots of talking.”

  “Do you think it helped?”

  “I know you want reassurance. PTSD is a big thing and it did hit me hard at one time. But the therapy? It’s not me. I grew tired of it pretty quickly. I’m not putting down the process for those who can benefit from it. Like I said, I just want to move forward.”

  “I know.” It’s all I can think of as my mind whirls. As hard as I tried to hold it back, I feel a tear slide down my face and land on the hand my cheek is resting on. I’m scared and nervous and sad, and I don’t know how I can get passed this if he just brushes it off calling it an “accident” and acting like it never happened. And at this point, I know I can’t be fully honest with him and that’s not the way to start any relationship.

  I don’t know how long we lie in silence as I try to come to terms with this, knowing I can’t push him to talk. As if reading my mind, he speaks. “Please don’t worry about me. For my sake or yours. I’m not going to come unglued or anything. If the memories come back, I’ll deal with it.”

  “I’m sorry, Logan.”

  “Don’t be. It was the worst and hardest thing I will probably ever go through in my life. I lost some good friends, part of my leg, and a piece of me that will never be the same again. But I came back. I adapted. I fought through the pain of rehab, and I didn’t stop there. I came back harder and stronger.”

  I turn my face up to him and press a small kiss on his lips. “And next you’ll be a gladiator.”

  He laughs against my lips. “It’s a warrior…and you never know. I’m doing it to prove I can do it. Win or lose.”

  “You’re an amazing man, Logan, and you don’t need a contest to tell you that. I know you’re doing it more for Ryder than you and I think it’s sweet.”

  “It has seemed to be the only thing taking his mind off losing his mom.”

  “I like your brothers. You’re so good with them. I always wished I’d had an older brother like that. Someone to watch out for me and notice when I was sad or even someone to give me a kick in the ass when I’m screwing up.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t have that. And now I feel like a dick I didn’t know that. I really don’t know much at all about you, Mollie.”

  “Not much to know.”

  “I doubt it. But whatever there is, I want to know it all. A somebody would have asked you more questions. No wonder I’m stuck in the somebody zone.”

  I laugh. “Don’t worry. I have a feeling the meter’s running and you won’t be there long.”

  Chapter 18

  Logan

  It’s been at least forty minutes, and I still don’t know where Mollie is. I stood beside the nurses’ station for fifteen minutes before the annoyed looks from two other nurses drove me away. I texted Mollie when I arrived, but she must not have her phone. Some guy in hospital garb said he’d tell Mollie I was here if he saw her. Now I’m just wandering the halls, but the longer I’m here the worse I feel. I don’t know how she does it—being around death and illness and tragedy. Maybe if my mother and step-mother hadn’t died and I myself hadn’t spent months in one of these places, I’d feel differently.

  I smile and nod at an elderly woman coming out of one of the rooms telling whoever is inside to have a good sleep. She’s smiling too but I can see the pain in her eyes, the weariness.

  I tell myself I’ll wait another ten minutes and then leave. Mollie wasn’t expecting me anyway; I just found myself driving here, needing to see her after the night we shared last weekend. She hadn’t come by the house for a couple of days, covering for someone out sick. Sometimes I worry it’s all too much, and she’s going to stop coming over to help.

  I move inside a small area with phones, restrooms, and vending machines. I lean up against the wall and peruse the contents of the machines. It’s an open doorway so I can still see the nurses’ station that Mollie will hopefully come back to.

  I pull my phone out to check my messages when I hear two women talking. One of them says, “Two thirty-five B keeps complaining about his TV. Says there’s not enough channels.”

  “Tell him this ain’t no damn hotel,” the other one replies in a southern accident.

  The women continue their bitch session so I take a couple steps to the side to see if I can get a look at them. They’re both wearing a different color than Mollie wears so I assume they’re assistants or something. Then I see past them, Mollie coming out of one of the rooms with that doctor I met when I was here months ago. He’s standing in the doorway as she passes him, and his expression and focus on her feels too familiar. My blood boils at their closeness and what looks like more than two co-workers talking. When she passes, his hand lands on the small of her back, and I stiffen and push off the wall. I note the change in my breathing, quick and shallow, but I stay in the enclave, halted by one of the women’s words.

  “Looks like those two are at it again.”

  I just went from mad to crushed. I think about how I can leave without her seeing me. I don’t know what this means. Of course, there could be nothing going on between them but if there was at some point, it’s an image that will be tough to
burn from my brain. I’ll picture that assface touching her every time she’s here. No matter what is between us, I can’t let another man touch her.

  Mollie and Dr. Dickhead stop at the nurses’ station, and she notices the two women watching them. She shoots them a nasty look, and they appear to get the hint and step farther away. Then Mollie’s gaze pans to the left of them and sees me standing here looking like a total jackass.

  As if nothing has happened, her face lights up. “Logan,” she says brightly as she comes around the desk and over to me. The gossip girls watch her as they leave, and I move forward out to the walkway.

  “Hey,” is all I can get out. Despite what I saw, I’m still happy to see her. I can’t help wanting to be near her, touch her, hear her voice. When I told her that night I wanted to know everything about her I meant it. So, maybe it’s my own stupid fault I didn’t know she and Dr. Dreamboat had a thing. I just hope it’s not still a thing.

  “What a nice surprise.”

  She touches my arm but I’m eyeing the doc. With one hand around her waist, I pull her close and kiss her right on the lips so what’s his face knows what’s up. “I missed you.”

  “Missed you too.” She grabs my hand and pulls me down the corridor. “Come take a walk with me. I’m actually just about off.”

  We share a glance as if we are both remembering what happened the other night. I feel great about it myself but we haven’t talked since so I’m not sure if she feels differently now. Maybe that’s why I haven’t heard from her. I’ve never shared myself in that way with a woman before. Truthfully, I’ve only been with a few women since I lost my leg. It was always casual, and usually I just gave them a heads up. None of them became anyone to me after, even if they wanted it. Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t want to face them after they saw the broken parts of me.

  Mollie leads me out to a patio area, and we sit on a little wooden bench. The night is chilly so I take off my jacket and drape it around her shoulders.

  “Such a gentleman.” Mollie laughs and pulls it off, placing it across her lap.

  “You’re not cold?”

  She shakes her head. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you.”

  She squints and then grins, obviously remembering the one thing I said to her—that I missed her. Then, like the dumb, egotistical ass that I am I ruin the moment. “I’ve always hated Geometry.”

  She wrinkles her brows and twists her lips up to one side. “’Kaaay.”

  Feeling antsy, I get up from the bench and stand across from her. “If this is some kind of triangle thing, I’m not into it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You…and Dr. McDouchey.”

  “Whoa, dude, step off the page for a second. This isn’t a romance novel. Robert and I are colleagues, friends…sort of.”

  “So, you guys never hooked up?”

  She averts my gaze.

  “That’s what I thought. You two were looking pretty damn familiar coming out of that room.”

  She gets up from the bench and swings my jacket over her shoulders. Somehow it makes me feel better. “He’s my doctor, Logan.”

  “And?”

  “And I wanted to have him check me out after what happened at the gym that day.”

  I close the distance between us in an instant, laser focused on what she just said. “Are you okay? Is there something to be concerned about?”

  Her pause worries me and I cup her face, bring her attention back to me. “Tell me. I need you to explain so I won’t worry. I know nothing about this stuff. Please.”

  She grins. “I’m sorry, Logan. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  I pull her to my chest, probably overreacting. With all the bad things that have happened to the women around me, I’m paranoid. I stroke the back of her head. “Are you sure?”

  She slips her arms around my waist. “I was just being careful, getting a regular checkup. I can’t take any chances with my job. Robert is the only one who knows and when he asked me how I’d been feeling, I told him, and he insisted on checking me out.”

  I bet he did. I hold her for a while longer, listening to the crickets chirp, and feel a slight breeze skate around us. “Those chicks you glared at think you and the doc are getting it on.”

  “Good.”

  I pull back and fix her with a look of confusion. “Good?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want those little trolls knowing my business. Let them gossip. I don’t care.”

  “I’m sure your doctor doesn’t care either. What happened between you two?”

  “We went out once. That’s all it took.”

  She obviously doesn’t want to elaborate but I think I can tell from her expression what happened. Of course, I know she’s been with other guys, but I wish she wasn’t spending her days with one of them. “Isn’t there another doctor who you can see?” I take one of her hands and my fingers run along the length of her bracelet, a habit I can’t seem to stop and don’t know why. I only know something about the act soothes me and right about now I’m in need of some relief.

  She stares down at our hands for a few seconds before looking me in the eyes again. “No. I don’t want to see anyone else because I don’t want anyone else to know. I’m sorry, Logan, but you’re just going to have to trust me.”

  What choice do I have?

  I nod my answer, and she brings our hands up between us. “You’re doing it again,” she says, dipping her head. “Touching my bracelets like that.”

  “I know.” Just like Mollie’s presence calms me, touching her bracelets does too. “They’re such a part of you, I guess I like knowing you’re here…with me.” But even as I say it, I realize that doesn’t explain why I’ve done that to Belle when she’s wearing the bracelet Mollie gave her.

  My phone rings in my pocket and I reach for it. I see it’s Mason calling, and I immediately worry something’s happened with Dad. Though he’s doing much better around the family, I haven’t heard from my brother how our dad is doing at work.

  “Mason, what’s up?”

  “You need to get over to my place as quick as you can.”

  “Is it Dad?”

  “No, it’s Justice.”

  “Justice?” I look at Mollie, unable to hide my concern. She looks just as confused as I feel. I shrug. “What happened? Is he okay?”

  “Yeah…I think so. He should be. Look, he’s high off his ass. Or drunk or something. Just come over.”

  “On my way.”

  I relay to Mollie what he said, and she tells me to pull the car around while she gets some things.

  The whole drive to my brother’s house, I wonder how Justice ended up with Mason. I know why he didn’t call Dad, but if he was in trouble, why didn’t he call me?

  I feel Mollie’s hand on my thigh. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I know. Unless I decide to beat his ass.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him. I’m sure you—”

  I clasp her hand in mine. “You’re right. I know.”

  Mason pulls the door open, still wearing his suit from the day, his tie loose and his top shirt button open. Sometimes I wonder if he dresses to make himself feel more important.

  “Where is he?” I say, coming in the door after Mollie.

  “In my room.”

  I start to walk down the hallway and Mason grips my arm. “Hold up a sec.”

  “I want to see my brother and make sure he’s okay.”

  “He’s had a rough night if what he says is true. He doesn’t need you getting on his shit right now.”

  I’m blown away by his response. Mason has always been the strait-laced one of us and he’s telling me to chill? I pull my arm away and start to move around him but he side steps and stares me down.

  “Why don’t I go in first,” Mollie tells us. “You two can talk and I’ll check him out, make sure he’s all right.” She walks off down the hall before either of us can respond.

 
“Last door on the left,” Mason says.

  “I don’t like this,” I say more to myself. “Even if he’s fine, I want to see for myself. Find out what happened.”

  “How about a beer?” he says, heading to the fridge.

  When Mollie closes the door behind her, I turn away and sigh. “Why not.” I head toward the kitchen and slide onto a bar stool. I finally take a moment to look around, realizing there are some distinctive changes to the place. Not that I’m some master decorator, but Mason couldn’t barely be bothered to put out a photo after a year living there. His house used to feel like nothing more than a second office. Now the subtle touches—art on the wall, a few strategically placed woven baskets, and new dark wood coffee table—have me wondering if this is Megan’s doing.

  Mason pops the cap off a bottle and hands it to me before doing the same for himself. He stays on the other side of the counter and stares at me like he wants to say something.

  “What?”

  “I know you were going through hell over there in Germany, bro…but that look on your face just now…” He shakes his head. “That’s just how we all felt not being able to get over there to see you.”

  Sadness and regret swirl in my gut. “I’m sorry. I know it must have been hard.” I take a drink and eye him. “So why are you telling me this now?”

  “I just wonder…”

  “What?”

  “If Nina and Sheri hadn’t died if you’d have ever come home.”

  The emotional cocktail that was swimming around turns to stone and falls to the pit of my stomach. I don’t even know what to say. Because he’s got a point. “Honestly, I’m not even sure. After Germany, I was hardcore into my rehab.” I hold the bottle and stare into it. “It’s the only way to be if you want to come back from something like that.”