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Our Secret Song A Sweet Brothe - Emily Childs
Our Secret Song A Sweet Brothe - Emily Childs
Emily C. Childs
Copyright © 2021 by Emily C. Childs
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher
or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Title Page
Copyright
Fullpage Image
Prologue
1. Alexis
2. Bridger
3. Alexis
4. Bridger
5. Alexis
6. Bridger
7. Alexis
8. Alexis
9. Bridger
10. Alexis
11. Alexis
12. Bridger
13. Bridger
14. Alexis
15. Alexis
16. Bridger
17. Bridger
18. Alexis
19. Alexis
20. Bridger
21. Bridger
22. Alexis
23. Alexis
24. Bridger
25. Alexis
26. Alexis
27. Bridger
28. Alexis
29. Bridger
30. Bridger
31. Alexis
32. Alexis
Epilogue
Prologue
Alexis
THE FIRST TIME I was sent to the principal’s office was because I hit a boy
in the head with the hardback version of Charlotte’s Web. He told me Wilbur
the pig was a wimp and ruined the ending by spoiling Charlotte’s fate.
The second time was for hoarding Miss Christie’s books and rehoming
them in my bookshelf. She called it stealing, but that’s such a strong word. I
appreciated them so much better than the other first graders.
But the most memorable of all my grade school office visits hit a little
closer to home. It involved the guy who slept over in the room across the hall,
whose mom invited us over for pancakes on Saturdays.
The guy who was my friend and nemesis rolled into one skinny, nine-year-
old body.
When he made fun of me for crying over Little Women in the school
library—in front of both the second and fourth grade classes—he became
more enemy than boy next door.
Don’t worry. He wasn’t laughing so hard when I stole his stupid notebook
where he wrote down poems that never rhymed and read them out loud in
front of his friends.
I didn’t mean to scream when he tugged on my pigtails and called me a
snitch and a crybaby. I didn’t mean to smack him in the mouth, either. But
I’d never forget sitting side by side outside Mr. Henson’s office, him with an
ice pack to his cheek, me clutching Little Women (the sweet librarian told me
I could keep it if I loved it so much) to my chest.
He glared at me. I glared at him.
“Fine, Al,” he shouted with his swollen lip. “Fine. It’s sorta sad when Beth
dies. Sorta.”
“You know her name?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He turned away from me and paled when his
dad walked into the office, eyes narrowed at both of us.
I shrunk a little in my chair, but secretly liked the way his dad glared
harder at him than me. Mr. Cole would probably give me a fist bump when
no one was watching.
Two days later a triple-folded piece of lined paper was taped to my
bedroom window. One of those weird poems written in his sloppy
handwriting. At the bottom it said:
They aren’t poems dummy. It’s a song.
B
P.S: I have tons of stupid books I don’t read. I’ll give them to Parker to
give you since that’s all you do.
P.P.S: Do you think it’s a good song?
Chapter 1
Alexis
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN it’s gone?” My cheeks prickle in heat. This isn’t
happening. Cue the blabber in three, two, one. “How can it be gone when it
was supposed to be mine? I mean, I know it wasn’t only mine, it was more a
we thing, you know? A threshold to cross, a life to build. The after-
honeymoon refuge. Us. We. Together. I know there’s been a mistake, let me
call my fiancé.”
The woman at the desk flicks her eyes to me as I whip out my phone. She
holds a worn magazine, cover rolled back. Her cat-eye glasses perch on the
tip of her nose, the eyeglass chain is made of colorful beads. Shades of
purple, blue, of sun yellow, and strawberry red. For a moment she drags her
eyes—rife with disinterest—over my scarecrow figure. Joints and bony
points is how my tumbling coach once described me.
The sort of body image issue every girl wants.
I flash a grin at her, wishing she’d stop looking at me like I’m insane. I’m
not. I’m fidgety, and rightfully so. My apartment is gone!
Eyes on my screen, I don’t have a single message from Bryce. He must not
know the mishap has happened. He’s going to be livid.
The woman lets out a long sigh, relieves her magazine to the desktop, and
laces her fingers beneath her chin. “Sweets, how else do you want me to put
it? It’s taken. We’re full. Contracts are booked for the year. There’s no room
at the inn.”
I take a deep breath in through my nose. A wave of sun-soaked mildew and
body odor strikes me like a fist to the throat. This was supposed to be my
palace, stinky as it is. Right now, in the heat, simply to have a roof over my
head, I could get used to the low-powered AC units. I’d tolerate the slowly-
roasting-alive smells.
“But this was reserved,” I start, a little whimpery for my tastes, but
desperate times and all. “I made the deposit months ago. We toured.” I lean
closer, as if it might help her see my features better. “Do you recognize me?
Thirteen A, the one on the—”
“Lower floor, corner. Hon, I know. Listen, what do you want me to say?
Two nights ago, Mister—”
Don’t say Hall, don’t say Hall.
“Hall. A Mister Hall called and canceled his spot on the list.”
I shake my head. This is a mistake. “But he would’ve told me.”
She tilts her head, sympathetically. “He’s your guy, is he?”
“I mean, yeah. We’ve been friends for a long time. All through our
undergraduate degrees and now into our graduate. We’ve been together
forever, as in two years. We make a good match. Everyone says so. When he
asked me to marry him, it made sense.” I pause for a breath, my mind going
faster than my tongue, and steal a glance at her nameplate. “Patti—may I call
you Patti? We’re getting married this weekend. It’s Thursday, Patti!”
“Uh, huh. Big wedding?”
“Not really. We’re in Vegas, so why not? But don’t worry, it’s more
planned than some Vegas weddings. People are coming. My friend from
Utah, even my brother is flying in from Seattle—he’s playing against the
Mariners, you see. He’s a ball player. Cool, right? His coach never allows
players time away, but he gave him leave to give me away. Our dad is dead.”
I let out a groan, cursing myself. No one wants that sort of thing dropped in
their laps. But sad as it, I don’t really think of my dad in a mourning way. I
never knew him.
What I’m thinking is how Parker will have to return to his team—his entire
team of sexy, professional baseball players—and let them know a wedding
didn’t happen.
I press a hand to my chest because any second my heart is about to burst
out.
Patti kneads her plump chin with her plump fingers. “Lemme ask you this,
sweets. Who, uh, who’s the money bags in this whole set up?”
“What? We’re students. I mean I paid for the apartment deposit and the
first month’s rent, but that’s because I had a little money from my dead dad. I
mean, just my dad, sorry I keep saying he’s dead. A little something for when
I graduated college.”
“Like a trust fund?”
“No, no. Like an inheritance. And not millions, more like thousands. A
good chunk of change to help with a down payment on an apartment.” Am I
wailing? Kind of. I sniff and clear my throat. “So that’s what I did with it.”
“And your fella, he, uh, he had access to this inheritance?”
“Ah, I see those wheels in your head turning, Pat. It’s not like that, okay.”
Funny, but my voice starts to tremble. “A lot . . . a lot of couples have joint
accounts.”
“Oh, hon.” Patti pouts her bottom lip.
Hot, stinging tears brim over my lashes. Am I really so stupid? Have I
been duped? No. I maintain this is a misunderstanding.
Bryce and I get along like peas in a pod. We hardly argue. We’re logical,
intelligent human beings with a ten-year plan. My inheritance amounted to
ten grand. We spent it on a modest wedding dress, the loan on Bryce’s car,
and the down payment on the apartment. I had the money. Why wouldn’t we
use it? I can practically hear Bryce’s deep voice rattle in my skull, Joint
accounts makes finances so much simpler, Lex.
I’d believed him. For flipping sakes, he’s getting his MBA with a finance
emphasis! I’m here for Library Studies. There’s a difference in spreadsheet
and budget know-how.
“Sweetie?”
“I thought . . . I thought his ideas on how to use it were smart. Practical,
useful, avoid-debt smart.”
Patti sighs. “Do you have anyone I can call for you?”
Why would he do this? I grit my teeth, angry enough I could scream. “It
was beyond the cancelation period, though.”
“Yes, and he paid the fee.” She flicks her eyes to me again. “Honey, do
you have anywhere you can stay until you find another place?”
My chin quivers. “I’m not from Vegas.”
Not that I grew up far away, but I’m not going home. No way.
Good ole Patti nods and rifles through an old rolodex with handwritten
addresses. “Well, here. I’ve got a few friends. Now, they can be colorful. One
runs a nightclub a few blocks from The Strip, but if you don’t mind karaoke
at all hours, she’ll let you crash on the couch. Tuesday night is ladies’ night.”
My brows lift. “A nightclub couch?”
“Unless you’d prefer my second cousin. She runs a legal brothel up in
Ely.”
I blink through my stun and take the few addresses with a nod. Nightclubs.
Brothels. Might as well cozy up at a casino. They’re open at all hours and I
doubt the staff would notice as long as I look like I’m busy gambling.
My throat is dry and I hardly remember staggering outside.
Ten in the morning and already the Las Vegas sun scorches the earth at a
whopping hundred and one degrees. Welcome to August in the desert. The
pavement is so hot I don’t even smell the burgers grilling at the restaurant
next door. All that’s there is dry burn.
I sit on a stone bench tucked beneath one of the many date palms lining the
lawn of the apartment complex. Even in the shade sweat gathers over my
brow. The address cards Patti gave me to my unique potential sleeping
arrangements serve as a fan. I slouch against a red sandstone wall, tie back
my long, dark hair, tug my capri pants higher on my legs—a little air is
needed—and I process.
How could Bryce do this to me? I take a deep breath and make grand plans
to call him, to figure out what’s gone wrong. Maybe he found a better place
and wanted to surprise me.
I jump when my phone buzzes in my hand. A breath of relief escapes my
throat and I’m quick to answer. “Parkagon, hey.”
My brother, Parker, usually laughs at his nickname. He is not laughing
today. “Alexis! Where are you? Where is that son of—”
“Park!” I stop him because when Parker Knight goes on a cussing rant, he
goes on a cussing rant. It’ll make the Vegas Strip blush. Then, my brow
furrows. “Wait, how did you know something was wrong?”
“Because your stupid, moron of a fiancé is all over Twitter. With Cami!”
I stare at the shimmer of heat billowing off the sidewalks. A punch to the
gut, one felt deep under my ribs. “Cami? As in—”
“Our ex-stepsister! Yes!”
I fumble with my phone, putting Parker on speaker phone, and pull up my
app. My fingers tremble when blaring back at me is my horrible recently ex-
stepsister. She’s the kind that would give the sisters from Cinderella a run for
their money. Her botoxed, glossy lips are slobbering all over my . . .
I draw in a sharp breath and stare at the words of the tweet, stunned.
I NOW HAVE TWENTY-ONE dollars. The smoothies are delicious, and the
guava-peach with a spritz of energy blast broke me.
I’m starting to get a few curious glances from the employees, but they’re
friendly enough. Always asking me if I need more water, another smoothie. I
don’t want to think of the new reality, not after two more tweets have come
in.
Bryce is dead silent. Not a text. Not a tweet. Nothing. He’s officially gone
dark and I hate him. My stomach turns in knots, and I must be in a bit of a
daze when my phone rings and I answer without looking.
“Alexis.”
Ugh, stomach knots turn to waves of hot sick. “Mom.”
“What are you doing?” she asks sharply.
“Drinking a smoothie.” My voice cracks. “They’re really good, actually.
Nice and sweet—”
“I don’t care about the smoothie! What did you do? How did you let this
happen?”
I scoff, eyes wide. “How did I let this happen? I don’t know, talk to Mike’s
daughter and the cheating scumbag.”
My mother clicks her tongue. She always clicks her tongue. “Men don’t
wander if they’re satisfied.”
And like that we’ve hopped back fifty years.
I ought to remind her about her ex-husband and how it was rarer than snow
in Las Vegas for him to come home at night. But that seems petty, and what’s
the point?
“I’m not responsible for him,” I say after a long pause.
“You had something really going for you. He could’ve taken care of you.
Now what? Am I supposed to give up the spare room?”
“I’m not moving home, and I like to think I had more than Bryce going for
me. You know I’m here to get a graduate degree. Sort of cool.”
She chuckles, and I hate that it sounds so bitter. “A library degree. What
sort of career will that bring?”
Uh, more than drinking and drifting through men. Again, petty, Alexis.
“It’s been a long day, Mom. I’m going to go now.”
“Work this out, Alexis. You won’t find better. He’s stable. He’s not a
screamer. He’ll provide. Your brother does nothing to help me, but at least
Parker has money. You need to get your act together. If Bryce needs it, then
loosen the boundaries. There are plenty of women who let their guys keep
side pieces, you know. What you don’t see doesn’t hurt you sort of thing.”
I’m not sure what’s more depressing: that my mother is giving me this as
genuine advice, or that she’s settled for the same thing time and time again.
“I’ll work it out, Mom. Without Bryce, though. Talk to you later.”
I hang up before I can get another dose of wonderfully terrible motherly
wisdom. My smoothie refuge all at once is suffocating. I stand and toss my
drink cups. The lights of the Strip are starting to brighten the dusk. At least
it’ll be cooler, right?
The air is heavy in hints of red sand and grilled onions and something
sickly sweet. I don’t make it far, hardly five feet, before I plop onto a bench
and let my roller suitcase topple to the side.
Two years. Two flipping years I devoted myself to Bryce Hall.
In a way, I run from romance. The real, messy, under-the-skin kind.
It seems painful when it falls apart. I suppose that’s why I stick to safe and
secure.
But, no mistake, my heart has wanted to love before. Wanted it fiercely,
and that’s what’s terrifying. To want someone to the point it hurts. I’ve seen
enough to know when you love hard, when it’s gone, the shattered pieces hurt
worse.
So imagine my relief when I met Bryce Hall. Handsome, smart. Safe. He
wasn’t needy, but made my heart patter from time to time. He respected my
love of books. He didn’t date me to get close to Parker. It’s happened, y’all.
Turns out even the safe ones can be the deadliest of them all.
It might be time to drop some pride and either head to the night club, or
call Parker back. I hate the idea of stealing my brother from his life with the
Kings. It’s contract negotiating season and he’s worked so hard. I don’t want
anything to hinder his chances of a big chunk. He’s earned it.
I like to think his coaches would understand, but I don’t know. Coach
Hewitt is kind of a drill sergeant. I’m not sure if he knows what family
emergency means. I doubt his family ever has a crisis, and if they do, he’d
tell them to buck up and deal.
All at once, I jump back when a guy sits next to me. Too close.
He wears hoodie, a ball cap. His face shadowed. My creep alert is off the
charts until he says, “You know, I think books like Jane Eyre are knock offs
of ultimate classics like Beauty and the Beast.”
“I beg your pardon?” I splutter, yes, splutter. How dare he. “There is a
difference between a fairy tale and a historical gothic—”
“No there isn’t.”
My eyes widen. I’m going to go away for murder. Until he smirks that
annoyingly handsome smirk I know all too well.
Those golden green eyes find me and my pulse quickens, heat floods my
face. All those dangerous symptoms of visceral chemical reactions to another
person. Those things I run from.
I sneer. “Should’ve known. Is it wise to be out in public? Am I about to be
swarmed by crazed girls asking you to marry them?”
“Not at the moment. But if you take off my hat, I can’t make any promises,
Al.”
Bridger Cole. My brother’s oldest friend. The only person who has ever
called me Al. My nemesis from the day he insulted Little Women.
Funny how both Parker and Bridger are now heartthrobs for the women of
America. As if they planned it. I guess they kind of did. Always dreaming of
making it big, of leaving our small town behind. I haven’t seen Bridger
outside of media for what feels like forever.
But this, him showing up here, is a little too convenient. “Why are you
here?”
“Really? That’s all I get? No, ‘hey, it’s been forever, wow, you’re so much
sexier now’.”
“I don’t lie, Bridger. And there is no reason I can think of that would make
me want to see you right now, so . . .”
“Yeah? Not exactly how I planned to spend my evening, either. Good
thing I don’t listen to you, and when a buddy needs me, I’m there.”
I glare at the sky, mouth tight. “He called you?”
“Al, come on. Obviously.”
“Well,” I start, lifting my chin, “I’m sorry you took time out of your day to
come down here. I’m fine, really. I was just about to go find a hotel.”
I hate how my voice trembles. It’s been a long day, and showing my life
disaster in front of Bridger—who’d never be abandoned two days before a
wedding—is mortifying. My head is reeling, and I have to bite the inside of
my cheek to keep from rambling out the entire situation. Doubtless he already
knows.
Did the thought of calling Bridger cross my mind? Yes. For a fleeting,
desperate moment. I simply figured he’d be too out of reach. He’s not exactly
a typical couch to crash on. And I’m pretty sure we’d kill each other. Which
is why this is such a problem.
I clasp my hands in my lap, knee bouncing, and turn away before he can
see the sudden glisten of tears in my eyes. I’m not fooling anyone.
A sharp breath hitches in my throat when Bridger inches closer, his lips
next to my ear. “Al, you’re not staying in a hotel. Come on.”
“No.” I wipe at my eyes. “No, I’m fine—”
“Alexis,” he says, dropping the demanding act. Now, he sounds desperate.
“Let’s go talk in private.”
For the first time I notice a few gawking eyes have spotted us. They’re
wondering. They’re staring. They’re pulling out cell phones.
I nod briskly, and shoot to my feet. Bridger curls his shoulders like a pro,
takes my suitcase, then fades between the smoothie shop and the laundromat
next door. I stay tight on his heels, head down. I’m not blind to know with a
few unwelcome pictures his face could be on the front page. Me, behind him.
“Do you have a car?”
I shake my head, an unwelcome bite of tears in my eyes. “I sold it.”
“Why?”
“To pay for a stupid wedding that isn’t happening! Stop questioning me.”
He holds up a hand in surrender and points me in the direction of a back
parking lot. A bright blue jeep is parked at the far end. I pick up the pace and
hurry to the passenger side. If Bridger smelled good, his car is even better.
The leather seats are polished with a musky hint of something smooth, like
caramel or vanilla. I’d like to lick the console to find out.
Bridger drops my bag in the back, then hops into the driver’s seat. He
tosses back his hood and flips his Kings cap backward. Ah, there he is. The
guy I’ve always known. His hair is a touch longer, his face scruffy. I grin at
the silver rings on his fingers and the chain around his neck. Always one for
sparkly things. Like the shiny onyx studs. The colorful tattoos.
“I’ll admit I’m impressed,” he says, as we pull out of the lot. “No
questions, you just got up and bolted.”
I snort and dangle my arm out the passenger window. “I’m prepped for
this. Parker is starting to get his fair share of swarms. Get this, last time I
went to his place we went out for tacos, because who doesn’t like tacos, and I
guess I dawdled too long. The next morning an online article posted a picture
of us, naming me his new fling. Talk about awkward.”
Bridger doesn’t bat a lash when I go on with my tangent-filled stories, but
he never has. One point for him, I suppose.
“Not that it matters, but, uh, thanks.” He rolls down his window, too, and
lets his arm dangle out. “I don’t like being smashed.”
What he means is he doesn’t like being crowded. How he’s survived as a
rockstar I’ll never know.
I fight a smile. “Didn’t do it for you. I hurried to save face and not get
slapped into one of the gossip columns with you.”
“Right. Wouldn’t want cultured Alexis to be caught having a life.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Just shut up and drive, Cole.”
Some things never change. Like our endless bickering. Our one-upping
each other. Like the way my heart betrays me and warms when he smiles.
How he teases me about books, but at least he’s talking to me about books
when no one else will. Or when he saves me from sleeping at a night club.
“Thank you,” I say. A moment of truce. But only a moment. “For coming,
I mean. I didn’t want to get anyone dragged into my mess and—”
“Al,” he says, silencing me. “I’m going to say this once, so listen. That guy
isn’t a man, understand? He’s a coward, and clearly, doesn’t have a brain.”
I do not need to feel a flutter in my stomach right now. He doesn’t want me
here as much as Bryce didn’t want me in a chapel and white gown.
“Full of compliments,” I say a little snidely. “This day keeps getting
weirder.”
“Wasn’t really a compliment.”
“Still,” I say. “I doubt you wanted to be saddled with your friend’s little
sister when you have a million things to do. I didn’t miss the billboards, big
shot. Concert weekend?”
He shoots me a swift glance; his eyes peel back my ribcage and spear my
heart. “I have the concert, but this matters too.”
What is there to say to that? My speedy tongue goes numb, and I simply
nod and look back out the window as he drives.
Chapter 4
Bridger
FALL—2006
Parker tosses a new baseball from the drugstore at the fence. He better
watch it or what’s-his-name inside will probably come out and scream at him.
I don’t know who Mama Knight brought home last night, but it’s set Parker
up in knots.
“Want to go swimming?” I ask, slurping the last of the juice from my
popsicle.
Parker lobs the baseball at the fence, hard enough the wood splinters.
The window glides open in a hurry. “Kid, shut up or I’ll make you shut
up.”
I grimace. Mama Knight’s date has three chins and a stupid mustache.
“Hey,” I say because I can’t keep quiet. “It’s his yard, fatty.”
His eyes are sort of crazy. The kind Dad warned me about. He points one
of his sausage fingers at me, then disappears from the window. Parker’s mom
shouts something, a lot of nasty words, and something topples inside.
Parker grins, eyes bright. We live to torment Mama Knight’s dates and we
hit the jackpot on this one.
“Run!” he says.
We bolt out the front gate, right as the scumbag fumbles through the screen
in his skivvies and stained tank top.
“Get back here you waste of space!” He calls me other names. A lot of
other names.
Oh-ho, wait until my dad finds out. Keep ‘em coming big guy. My dad is
the Hulk. Six foot four, and two hundred pounds of muscle. A firefighter in
one of the driest places in the United States. Enough said.
Creep Monster follows us through the fence. We’re already on our bikes.
Tate and Adam are across the street. Tate waves at us, then sees the charging
maniac, so they beeline it for their bikes too.
“Meet you at the pond!” Tate shouts. He gets it.
Parker laughs as he mounts his bike. But when he glances back at me, his
eyes go wide. I don’t have time to look around before a fat hand curls around
the collar of my shirt and yanks me to the desertscape front yard. The small
rocks scrape down my back and knock the wind out of my lungs.
“Not so tough now, kid!”
“Tony!” Parker’s mom shouts through the window. “What are you doing?
He’s not mine.”
“Shut up Lila! I’m dealing with it.”
Holy—this guy is going to hit me. He smells. Like the weirdly sweet
smells on the Strip after dark. We went for my birthday and I came home
with a stomachache.
“Let him go!” Parker shouts.
From the corner of my eye, I watch him pedal faster to reach me. He won’t
make it.
“Next time, you’ll shut your mouth.” Big Guy lifts his fist.
I don’t want to be a wimp, but I close my eyes, bracing. Next thing I know,
Big Guy curses, groans, and his big, sweaty body staggers off me.
“You stupid little—” He curses again, calling someone else a heap of
really dirty names. Things that start to bring the interest of the neighbors.
Man, I wish my parents weren’t at work. This guy would be roadkill by now.
The scumbag grunts again, crying out in pain. Then a loud thwack slaps off
his skin.
“Alexis Marie Knight! You get down outta that tree!” Mama Knight
shouts. “I’m gonna smack you, girl. No! Stop it!”
I peek at the queen palms tucked in the corner of the yard and see Al. She’s
wearing her usual satchel that I think belonged to her dad, hi-top sneakers,
stupid knee-high socks, and two long braids over her shoulders. She lifts the
slingshot again and lets a pebble fly.
She’s a terrible shot, but it distracts this tool long enough I roll out from
under him.
“What are you doing, dummy? Get lost!” she shouts. Her lisp loud and
proud since she got her braces put on.
When her mom’s date stumbles toward the base of the tree, Alexis leaps
out into the street. He’s going to kill her. Already two welts are forming on
his forehead. Parker skids to a stop, torn between saving his sister, or me. I
race to my bike. We’re definitely saving Al.
“Hey, you leave that girl alone!”
A grin spreads on my face. Old lady Morgan is tromping out of her house
in her bathrobe, armed with her twelve gauge. She’s nicknamed the cop of
the street. No one, and I mean no one messes with Old Lady Morgan’s kids.
And every kid on this street is hers.
Scumbag holds up his hands innocently. “Whoa, whoa, lady. Just trying to
get her out safely.”
“Lila!” shouts Old Lady Morgan. “Come get your trash.”
I don’t hear Mama Knight’s response, we’re already halfway down the
road.
“Hey guys!” Tate calls. “Let’s go.”
I look over to the tangle of palms and pomegranate trees that grow a little
wild at the end of the block. She thinks she’s awesome at hiding, but she sort
of sucks at it. Her bright red sneakers are poking out, and she dropped her
bag on the outside.
“Hang on, guys,” I say and drop my bike. “Hey, Al.”
She peeks out from behind one of the palm leaves. “He gone? Because if
he’s not gone, I think I ought to stay put. You know, in case he decides he
didn’t like my shot. I got him good, though, didn’t I?”
“Ah, not Chatty Kathy,” Tate groans. “Come on, Bridger. We’re going to
the pond. No girls allowed. Park, help me out.”
Parker sighs. “Lex, why don’t you go to Old Lady Morgan’s until we get
home.”
Her shoulders slump. “Yeah. Sure.”
I don’t know why I do it. I don’t want to be a baby in front of the guys, but
I hold out a hand. “Hang on. Al’s coming.”
Tate and Adam moan and groan, but Parker hides a smile. This isn’t for
him, though.
“I’m coming?” Al looks to me.
She’s only eleven and she’s a girl, so it’s sort of lame to invite her, but I
shrug and snatch the slingshot out of her hand. “Just this once, Al. Got it?
You stink at shooting this thing, and you better learn because if Smelly is still
back there when we get home, I’m not coming to save you.”
She narrows her eyes. “I saved you. Just like that scientist who saved the
astronaut in that space book you gave me.”
“What?” I glance over my shoulder. My friends are watching. Parker
especially. “I didn’t give you a space book. Fine, Al. Don’t come. You
could’ve been one of the guys for today.”
“No,” she blurts out, takes the slingshot, and shoves it into her back
pocket. “I want to come.”
“She’s riding on your pegs, Bridge,” Adam says and takes off to race the
other guys down the road.
I huff and roll my eyes. “Well, get on. You gotta hold onto my shoulders.”
Alexis adjusts so she’s on my makeshift pegs I put on my mountain bike.
Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, but it’s better than her choking me so I
don’t say anything.
“You did give me a space book.”
“If I did give it to you, did you like it?”
“I like historical books better, but it was pretty cool.”
“Well, if I ever want to give you a book—which I won’t—it won’t be
historical. Those are boring.”
She snickers, but tries to hide it. We ride in silence for a while until Alexis
taps the top of my head. “I saved you, Bridge. Admit it.”
I can’t really deny it. Everyone saw the truth. “You might’ve gotten a few
good shots. So what?”
“I’m like one of those things under the trapeze. When you fell, I was right
there and bam! You were safe.”
“Do you know anything? They’re called safety nets.”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
I pedal faster. Her nails dig deeper. But I grin. “Fine, Al. Sure. You’re like
my safety net. Happy?”
She pauses, but when she speaks it sounds like she’s smiling. “Yeah. But
Bridge.”
“What?”
“This doesn’t mean I like you.”
Chapter 5
Alexis
SPRING—2007
WINTER—2007
“Lila, I’m telling you if another one of those guys comes at my son again .
. .” Garret Cole pauses, probably knowing we’re all listening from the crack
in the back door.
I hunch on the back stairs, Parker over me, and Bridger standing, ear to the
door.
My mom lets out a mean laugh. The kind she does when I bug her too
much, or when she thinks my outfit looks ugly. Weird to hear it aimed at
Bridger’s dad.
“You and Holly think you’re so high and mighty. Think you’re better than
us, huh? Don’t forget I’ve seen you higher than a kite buckets of times.”
“Stop it, Lila. We’re not better than you, we just fixed ourselves.” His
voice softens. “You can, too. If you don’t do it for you, do it for the kids.”
She laughs, the mean kind again. “The kids? Ha! The constant reminders
of what I might’ve had. Of mouths I can’t feed unless . . .”
She pauses and drags in a long breath of her cigarette. I know what she
thinks—that she needs someone to love her to take care of us properly. She’s
wrong, but doesn’t get it, I guess.
I hate that my mom hates us. Holly, Bridger’s mom, says my mom doesn’t
hate us, but feels like she doesn’t take care of us, so she hates herself.
Doesn’t make sense to me.
Mom can be nice. Once in a while we have waffles, or get ice cream before
she goes to work. Sometimes she tells me she likes my hair or that Parker is
good at baseball. She tells us to go to college. We tell her we will.
But today is one of the bad days. Where it feels like Mom can’t stand us.
“We can go,” Bridger whispers. “Al, you can be one of the guys today.”
We start to move, but pause when Garett leans over our table. “Lila, we’re
here for you if you need support, you know that. But I’m also not going to let
my son, or your kids for that matter, be hit, or yelled at, or abused by these
creeps anymore. I’ll take Park and Lex myself, got it?”
Mom snorts. “You talk big, Gare. But you wouldn’t do it. Not really.”
“I would. They’re like my kids and you’re not going to mess them up.”
We scatter when Garett turns and heads toward the door. He’s not a
dummy, though. Bridger’s dad has a big smile. Most people are scared of him
because he has tattoos and bulky arms, but he’s the nicest guy ever.
“Hey, goofs,” he says, rustling Parker’s hair. “You shouldn’t listen to
adults when they’re talking privately.”
Garett stops. My mom slams the door without even looking at us. A
muscle twitches in Garett’s jaw, but he keeps smiling. I’m not dumb, either.
He’s smiling for our sakes.
“Hey, Lexie girl,” he says as he tugs on one of my pigtails. “What’s up
with the tears?”
I blink. Geez, I didn’t know I was crying like a big baby. With the back of
my hand, I wipe my nose. “Did you mean it? You want us to be with you
guys?”
Garett loses his smile. He flicks his gaze to Parker, Bridger, then back to
me. “Kiddo, listen. Your mom loves you, she really does. I’ve been where
she is and I always loved my kids even if I didn’t make the best choices. But
yeah. If she can’t figure it out, then I want you guys with us. Until then,
you’re welcome anytime. You know how to get in and that door’s always
open.”
I nod and wipe at my eyes before Bridger or Parker teases me.
Garett returns his easy smile. “Hey, I don’t need to go into the station for
another five hours. What d’ya say we hit the fields? Park, you been working
on that curve ball?”
“Struck out three guys last game.”
Garett shoves his head playfully and says, “Thata kid. You stick with
baseball. I think you’re going far. Don’t let Bridge and the other guys force
you into their band.”
“Dad,” Bridger whines. “We need him to play bass.”
“You need him to do what he loves, just like you, bud. You two keep at it
and you’ll be the one in a million.”
“The what?”
“One in a million,” Garett says. “When Park is playing pro ball and you’re
on stage, supporting your old man with your multi-millions, kid. Statistically
speaking both of you are looking at about a one in a million shot. And you
know what—you’re going to be that one. Or two, in your cases.”
Garett winks, takes the baseball Parker carries everywhere, and tosses it
back and forth with him as we walk.
Bridger hangs back with me. He doesn’t like crying, and usually tries to
make it stop as soon as possible. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Your mom?”
“No. I don’t really need her anyway.”
“It’s good to need people, though.”
I blow out my lips. “No it isn’t. Parker is the only one who needs me and
that’s because he has to say that. I’m his sister.”
Bridger shrugs. “I guess so.”
My chin quivers. I said it, but I didn’t want him to agree with me.
“But, uh, who’d be my safety net without you?” Bridger whispers.
I flick my eyes to him, confused. Maybe a little hopeful. “I’m not that
important to you, Bridge.”
In a rare moment, Bridger’s face softens around me. “That’s not true.”
“What?”
He moans and stares at the clouds. “Are you going to make me say it
again? You and me, we don’t do games, right? We’re honest no matter what.
You said you weren’t important, I disagreed. Honest. End of story.”
I grin and a weird tingle I keep getting around Bridger lately dances across
my arms and it doesn’t make sense. Better to change the subject. I use my
chin to point at his dad. “You’re lucky, you know.”
He nods, a small grin in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Come on, I bet he
takes us to that new burger place after the ballfields.”
I run to keep up with Bridger’s lanky legs, laughing. Almost forgetting
how angry my mom sounded that she had kids.
We have a perfect day.
And it’s the last one we ever spend with Garett Cole alive.
Chapter 11
Alexis
I’M NOT ONE TO give up easily, but I’ve also never seen Bridger turn into
stone and withdraw so harshly either. Usually he’s always up for a good
fight.
I stand outside his door, fist raised, ready to knock. I can’t bring myself to
do it. With a long sigh, I turn away from his door and head to my bedroom. I
flop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Who does Nadia think she is?
Those longing looks at the camera, the slight touch to the brim of her
cheeks, as if a bruise remained there. Bridger never hit her. I bite my bottom
lip. Then again, domestic violence is often a silent epidemic. Tears sting like
needles behind my eyes. I can’t think those things of Bridger. It’d be a
wretched kind of betrayal. He wouldn’t, not being so close to Parker and me.
He wouldn’t be that way.
I sling an arm over my eyes, but am distracted when my phone rings.
“Hey, Zo,” I say through a knot in my throat.
“Random question,” she says and takes a bite of something. “I know he’s
had some issues—I mean, who could forget—but is, uh, Bridger Cole a
grade-A scumbag?”
“No, she’s lying!” I shout.
“Whoa, easy killer.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sorry, but I know exactly what interview
you’re talking about. It’s not true. Nadia is totally in this for money, maybe
revenge because Bridger broke up with her.”
“Hmm. Maybe. I mean, there was a commenter on the video who agreed
with you. Said she was a gold digger because her modeling career or
whatever is on the fritz. And you know me.”
I grin. “You internet stalked her.”
“How could I not? Anyway, turns out she did get dropped by Maybelline
for some sort of hushed up contract infarction. Maybelline isn’t small fries.
Maybe she’s looking for a payout.”
“Must be,” I insist. “He’d never do that sort of thing. You should’ve seen
his face when he watched the promo. It was like someone socked him right in
the throat.”
There’s a bit of a pause and I take the time to gnaw on my thumbnail when
I replay the sullen, vacant expression in his eyes as he stared at his phone.
Each word like a dart to his fragile shield he tried to keep in front.
“Lex, I’m going to need you to back up. Speak a little slower, maybe.”
Zoey adjusts and I can practically see her, straight backed and tight lipped on
her office chair. “Did you tell me I should’ve seen his expression, as if you
saw it firsthand?”
My eyes bug out. “Holy cow, Zo. I forgot to tell you. I’m staying with
Bridger. He sort of rescued me from my homelessness. I’ve got my own
bedroom, and like a good man, it’s even stocked with a floor-to-ceiling
bookshelf.”
“Alexis!” she interrupts. “You’re at Bridger’s house? Right this second?
Alone? When he has a story like this breaking?”
“Hold up. I’m not in danger here, Zo.”
“Are you sure?”
“Zoey,” I say, heat flushing up my neck like a sick wave. “If anyone
knows if he’s some secretly abusive guy, I think I’d know.”
Zoey hesitates. “That’s not the only thing that has me worried. I’m talking
about the undergrad fallout.”
I wince. It’s not that I blame her. Some memories with Bridger are hard to
forget. She’s right. Too right, and I hate it. Bridger has lived the stereotypical
lifestyle of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Doubtless Parker knows more
details than me, but I know things, too. Lived through things with him when
no one else could be there.
“He’s not like that anymore, Zo.”
Paper crinkles in the background as she sighs. “Okay. I hope not, for both
your sakes. But Lex, you haven’t really been part of his life for a while,
right?”
“I’ll be fine. Parker knows where I am. He’s the one who called Bridger,
actually.”
“Okay, you should’ve led with that.”
“I can make choices without my brother.”
“I know, but Parker will make anyone who messes with you disappear. He
wouldn’t be okay with you being there if Bridger is a slime ball.”
I chuckle softly. “Someday I’m going to be a grownup to you and my
brother.”
“Nevah! Hey, Lex,” Zoey says before we hang up. “Call me if you need
me, girl. I’d be there in a second.”
“But is it because of me or do you secretly want to see the rockstar’s bat
cave?”
“Do reasons really matter?” Zoey takes a deep breath. “In all seriousness,
Lex, don’t let tomorrow get to you, okay? If being at Bridger’s helps with
that, then great.”
Tomorrow? All at once my breath hitches. Tomorrow was supposed to be
my wedding day.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
Once she’s gone, I bury my head in my pillows. They smell like fresh
laundry and Bridger. Citrus and spice. I could breathe him all day and it’s
unnerving what the thought does to my insides.
I go to the bookshelf. Time to turn off my brain and escape. After I’ve
made my choice and dig into a science fiction romance, I lean back against
the headboard and try to forget. Try to forget Nadia, Bryce. I try to forget that
every time this sexy alien tries to kiss the female scientist he loves, I think of
Bridger Cole.
Funny, but between being dumped and Bridger not being willing to open
up about whatever is happening with Nadia—it’s the latter that hurts more.
Bridger drags his fingers through his hair. He leans against the counter, an
unopened beer bottle next to an opened can of Dr. Pepper.
Every glance he makes at the bottle is a bite to my chest. Like he’s testing
his resolve and he wants to give in to the pull I have no doubt is there. Maybe
he doesn’t want to give details about what’s going on, but I’m not going to let
him fall into something he might not escape.
I lift my chin and walk with forced confidence to the counter, then snatch
the beer bottle away. Bridger whips his head around, startled, his eyes
simmering with heat. “Alexis, what—”
“Nope,” I say and head to the trash can. With the foot lever, I open the lid
and dramatically drop the beer bottle in. I cross my arms over my chest and
glare at him.
He glares right back, challenging me as he leans against the edge of the
counter. “You think I don’t have more?”
“I’m sure you do. This is one of those symbolic moments, Bridge. Where I
stand here all tough and be the person who won’t let you go down this hole.
You’re supposed to resist a little, but soon you’ll realize I’m right, that I’m
trying to protect you. Next, the scene will turn into something heartfelt and
fuzzy.”
His glare breaks and a grin plays with his lips. Unintentional. I’d planned
to stand off with each other for at least a few more minutes, maybe shout a
little about the risks of drinking at a time like this.
Bridger lets out a long breath, ending in a soft chuckle. “Al, you’re bad at
this. You can’t write a script for our pretend intervention. It needs to happen
naturally or where is the fun in having a come to Jesus moment?”
“I’m just telling you how it’s going to go. Do you disagree?”
“Honestly, I’d rather skip it.”
“Fair enough.” My voice quivers. “Don’t go there, Bridge. I won’t let you
again.”
His crosses the kitchen until he’s a step away. “I don’t drink, Alexis. I keep
them as a reminder.”
“Why tempt yourself?”
“Because it helps me. Maybe it’s not for everyone, but having the devil
stare back at me helps, okay?”
“Fine.” I narrow my eyes and resist the urge to reach out and massage the
base of his head. The muscles are all corded there. But if I touch him, I’ll
probably set up to kiss him like my rogue daydream and what good would
that do?
A great deal of good to this need boiling in my stomach, no doubt, but it’s
embarrassing. But as a whole what would it do?
Nothing but cause a lifelong friendship between Parker and Bridger to end
because my older brother would have to break his best friend’s nose when
hearts were broken. Not sure if my heart or Bridger’s would be broken. He’s
a sex symbol, and I’m not interested in opening this thing in my chest. It’s
really sixes on who would take the first punch at destroying the other.
But there’s no denying something sparks inside being here with him again.
“Alexis.” His voice interrupts my thoughts.
“What?”
“You might not want to be around me when this breaks out.”
“Nope. Don’t try to scare me off.”
He sighs, but I think he’s trying not to smile. “Al, come on.”
“You come on,” I say, poking his chest. “When did you turn into a bear
and storm out on me? You’ve never backed down from a battle of words
before. In fact, you usually insist on having the last one every time. What’s
going on Bridger? Don’t you think I deserve to know?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “But I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Too risky. The more I talk, the more the tabloids write.” My mouth parts
and I swear a flash of regret fills his eyes. He reaches for me. “Al, I—”
“No.” I pull away, voice rough. “I get it. You need to protect yourself. We
both know I can’t shut up. It’s not like I want to ramble, but it happens. Who
knows what secrets I might give up? I’m surprised you haven’t had me sign
one of those NDA things. Parker makes all the girls he thinks I don’t know
about sign one.”
Bridger shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the floor.
Whatever desire was in my gut now turns to good old-fashioned hurt.
“Ah,” I say. “You’ve got one ready for me.”
“It’s not personal, Al. I’ve just been thinking, and it’s for your protection
as much as me. The paparazzi can be intense and they’d push for any kind of
comment.”
I thought I might cry, but I’m angry. A delirious kind. “If I’m going to sign
a gag order, might as well tell me everything, then.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d ask you to sign anything yet.”
“But you were thinking of it. I told you, I understand. We’re not exactly
close anymore are we?”
My words draw out the same hurt in me, on his face. Bridger is a
professional at burying feelings, though, I simply thought I had the ability to
bring them out. His jaw tightens and he offers a curt nod. “Yeah. You’re
right.”
“Then tell me. Why is Nadia writing all that stuff? Stuff like how you
broke her nose. People have to realize it’s always been crooked. Once upon a
time I thought it gave her face some character, now I’d really like to break
it.”
He smiles, but there is a touch of sadness behind it. I hope it’s not because
he misses her. Nadia encouraged him to be the rebel rocker. Bridger can own
his mistakes, but I have to give her a little credit. She brought him lower
when he needed someone to push him to be better. I won’t forgive her, not
yet.
Truth is, Nadia almost killed him.
And now, she has the guts—nay, the audacity—to cut him like this? That
woman hit the jackpot of men. Loyal, sexier than books, talented. Gentle.
His arsenal of qualities is why I pushed away for a time.
While Bridger partied, I studied. I met Bryce Hall. I lived a life apart,
watching as he eventually floundered. But even in darker days, Bridger was
the enemy who’d always own a piece of my heart.
“Thanks,” he says at last.
“For what? Are you avoiding my questions again because you know I can
keep going and—” I draw in a sharp breath when his hand covers mine. My
stomach tightens. Each finger takes on a mind of its own and threads with
his.
“I’m not avoiding your questions,” he says. “I’m telling you I’m grateful
you didn’t ask if I did it or not.”
My brow furrows, my voice lowers. I squeeze his hand again. “Bridger, the
thought never even crossed my mind.”
He gives me a soft smile. “Nadia has written a tell-all about our
relationship and breakup. We were hushed about why we split, and I guess
she found an opportunity to make some money.”
“Are you suing? You could get her for slander.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m keeping my head down. Denying, if asked.
But there’s no proof I didn’t do it, Al. All I want is for this to die down and
be forgotten by the next big scandal.”
“There’d be police reports, Bridger! Hospital stays, some paper trail to
corroborate her story.”
“Not always.” His jaw tightens.
“Bridge—”
“It’s fine,” he says. “But I should’ve warned you the second I picked you
up. Any connection with me right now will bring attention to you, so I
understand if you don’t want to be here.”
“Are you . . . trying to get rid of me, Cole?” My voice is a high whisper. I
twitch my eye intentionally. “You think I’m . . . crazy or something?”
He laughs, and before I know it, I’m in his arms, pressed against his chest.
What . . . what happened? I’d brought out Crazy Al simply to make him
laugh, but if he wants to smash me up against his delicious skin, all the better.
“Don’t think what I’m about to do next means I like you or anything,
Cole,” I say against his chest.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. But I’m totally intrigued to know what this next
thing is.”
I grin and curl my arms around his waist, my fingers gently scratching his
back. Almost instantly the tension eases from his body and he drops his
forehead to my shoulder. It does something horridly forbidden to my heart.
Things like unleashing thoughts of crossing that horrible line we drew in the
sand once before. It’s foolish.
I’m not the girl who fits anywhere near Bridger Cole’s lifestyle. I’m not
the girl he sees when he thinks of a lover. I’m a girl who makes him laugh,
infuriates, annoys, and speaks honestly.
A girl who let him ruin her and who ruined him back.
Chapter 12
Bridger
WINTER—2007
The back of the church has a music room. I stand there, staring. There’s an
old piano, a tambourine, and a guitar against the wall.
My hands shake as I reach for it, fingers on the fretboard. In my head I see
the melody, but my hands are frozen. Bitter and cold. What’s the point of
playing? He’ll never hear it. A hot, angry tear drops on the strings. I wipe it
way, still clinging to the instrument like it’s my lifeline.
I should be out there with my mom, but I can’t be by that . . . casket
anymore. I loosen the tie around my neck and tug off the suit coat my
grandma bought me, so my arms can move around the guitar easier.
I hold it, but don’t play.
For a Christmas present, my dad arranged guitar lessons, starting in
February, with Bill Daniels—only the best guitarist and voice coach in
greater Las Vegas. He’s worked with hundreds of musicians. Even played
with Celine Dion at Caesar’s Palace. I know what it cost my parents, and now
...
I close my eyes and a few tears stick to my cheeks. I can’t stop crying.
Everyone expects Brooks to cry; he’s eleven. I’m the . . . the man of the
house now. That’s what Old Lady Morgan told me.
I hate it. I don’t want it.
An ugly noise comes out of my throat. Uncool, and not like a rockstar at
all. Not like Dad. He’d never hide in a stuffy old room and bawl like a baby.
I jump when a hand touches my arm. “What . . .” I sniff and hurry to wipe
my eyes and hide my face. “What do you want, Al?”
She fiddles with her black skirt and stares at the floor. “I couldn’t find
you.”
“So.”
“I wanted to find you.”
My chin quivers. I stare out the old, dingy window hoping she’ll go away
and keep her mouth shut to Parker that I’m crying.
Even if I caught Parker crying last night.
“Hey, Bridge,” Alexis whispers. “Safety net.”
I hang my head. She’s my safety net. My dome of silence. I can say and do
anything right now and Al won’t tell a soul. She’s proven it over and over
ever since we decided to be safety nets to each other.
My voice is already stupidly squeaky, but I make it worse when I try to
talk and the tears keep coming. “I can’t . . . I can’t play, Al. I think I hate the
guitar. I . . . I think I hate singing and music.”
I drop the guitar and lower into a crouch and let it all out. My chest hurts,
my throat. I’m not bawling. It’s more than that. I can’t breathe.
I’m fourteen, but already two heads taller than Alexis. She still manages to
wrap her shorter arms around my shoulders. She hugs me and doesn’t let go.
Not for a long time.
When my feet tingle from crouching so long, I wipe under my nose,
embarrassed to look at her. She doesn’t force me. Alexis starts humming. I
shake my head. I know what she’s doing, humming our weird song we made
up. It has stupid words, things like fathead and onion breath, but she keeps
humming.
A twitch pulls at the corner of my mouth.
Our mad lib song always made my dad laugh. Tears still in my eyes, I
cross my legs underneath me and take the guitar over my lap. My fingers
shake, but little by little, I start to pluck. Then, strum. Alexis starts to sing the
words.
I snort a wet laugh when in the third verse she shouts, “Fart clouds!”
A minute later I realize I’ve sung the fourth verse and I’m laughing. I’m
playing. Music isn’t what I hate. It’s that my dad won’t be here to hear it.
He’s a hero for saving a lady, that’s what everyone keeps saying, and I
believe them. But I wish he weren’t a hero. I wish he were here.
When the roof of the warehouse caved in with the fire . . .
My jaw tightens again. Alexis rests a hand on the guitar. “Don’t stop,
Bridge. He’s listening, still. If you need me to, I’ll sing with you until you
can on your own.”
“You can’t sing.”
She glares. “No, but I write funny songs. And you’re going to be one in a
million. You’re not stopping now.”
I blink because I don’t want to be that uncool and start crying again. She
offers me her hand once she stands, but I get up on my own. Mom and
Brooks need me to be strong today, and I think I can be now.
But after we return the guitar to its stand, and Alexis opens the music room
door, I tap her shoulder. “Hey, Al?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you really think my dad can still hear me?”
She grins, and it’s the first time I realize she’s been crying the whole time,
too. “Heck yeah, Bridge. I bet he’s up in heaven jamming out with the angels
and saying what he always did—that’s my kid. Don’t stop playing or it’ll be
too quiet up there.”
Chapter 13
Bridger
I WISH PARKER WOULD drive to the concert with me, but he’s about as
stubborn as me and insists on doing his ritual of trying to unsettle Bridger.
Bridger does the same thing whenever he goes to the Kings’ games. Once
the entire band of Perfectly Broken held up large cutouts of terrible pictures
of Parker right behind the catcher. It made the news, but Parker pitched his
best game on that one. I think it’s sort of good luck thing between them at
this point.
I called Mallorie. She sounded flustered, but insisted a car would be there.
And a car it is. One of the nice, black luxury cars you’d expect dignitaries
or movie stars to ride in.
Quinn stands by the door and opens it for me.
“Thank you, good man,” I say. Inside is a bottle of champagne and
strawberries and—I let out a laugh—gummy bears and chewing gum.
Ah, Bridger Cole. My nemesis who gets me.
I startle when Quinn slips into the car beside me. “Whoa, what are you
doing?”
Quinn smirks. “I’m accompanying you tonight.”
“Accompanying me?” I snort and bite into a strawberry. “Didn’t take you
for a hard rock kind of guy.”
“I’m accompanying you, Miss Knight.”
I pause with the strawberry halfway to my mouth. “Hmm. Sounds a bit like
you’re going to be my bodyguard.”
“If you’d like to call it that.”
“Will I need a bodyguard?”
He turns his flat no-nonsense expression my way. “I wouldn’t hold stock in
beating people with a book as the best line of defense.”
There Bridger goes again. Overprotective while aggravating me at the
same time. It’s a character flaw that holds a certain kind of charm, I suppose.
I finish my second strawberry, wipe my hands, then lean against the seat.
“Well, Thor. Looks like you and me better become friends then.”
I’m not positive, but I think there is a flicker of a grin on his mouth.
THE SAME GUY WITH the headset ushers Becca and me to a comfortable
place to watch the show from the left wing.
Bridger takes his place at the center mic, Ellie next to him, Adam on his
left, Lance on his right. Tate stretches his wrists once more, then sits on his
raised drum set and spins his drum sticks once.
I hold my breath as the crowd quiets. Anticipation is heady. Lights around
the arena dim. My stomach flutters, I can’t bite back the smile. I love this
part. For a dozen breathless moments Perfectly Broken holds the crowd in
suspense, then Bridger nods his head to a soundless beat and together they
explode.
The white curtain shielding them from the crowd falls at the same time
sparks erupt on the sides of the stage; the same time Bridger and Adam and
Lance ignite their guitars; the same time Tate transforms into a new person.
His sticks reaching his snare, his foot on the pedal. He does so many things at
once.
The arena is deafening.
I bounce on my toes, cup my hands around my mouth, and scream. I’ve
never been able to hold back.
Becca laughs and leans into my ear. “I turn into a total fangirl at every
show, too.”
“I love to see their faces,” I scream over Bridger’s voice. “It’s like those
instruments, those lyrics, that stage is their home.”
Becca tosses her head back and laughs again, swaying to the beat, but she
nods.
Bridger lights up the stage. He presses his lips close to the microphone,
belts out the deep, dark rumble. His raspy voice fills the night. His fingers
slide over his fretboard on instinct now.
Lights, flames, heat. It builds with the energy of their song. When Ellie
takes over, Bridger stands back, claiming the stage. He wears a ferocious
kind of grin as he plays his guitar, leaning into Adam. Then, holding a fist up
for Tate when the drummer tosses a drum stick over his head, catching it at
the next beat.
I close my eyes and absorb it all.
At the end of the song, I can’t hear a thing over the shrieks of the audience.
They cheer Ellie off. Once she’s in the wing she accepts a towel and water
bottle, grinning at the stage.
“That was so good,” I say.
“Thanks. They’re on fire tonight, aren’t they? I haven’t felt this kind of
energy from PB for a while. You might be a good luck charm.”
I snort. “Doubt that.”
Ellie takes a drink with a smile before she’s ushered to prepare for her solo
set.
I grin when Tate begins a harder song. I might be a librarian, but
something about the deep, throaty rock songs, the ones that rattle the heart,
stirs me. The emotion in the rough edges is intoxicating.
Bridger and Adam bang and nod their heads in unison. I don’t know how
they don’t get lightheaded, but more and more people in the audience pulse
those rock on signs, some with tongues out, screaming when Bridger belts his
lyrics.
A break in the song comes where the word yeah is repeated. Tate pounds a
beat, Bridger holds out the mic toward the crowd as they shout: Yeah. Yeah.
Yeah.
Adam, Lance, and Tate bleed their energy into the crowd with the beat and
Bridger steps to the microphone, arms wide, foot propped on an amp.
My stomach tightens.
He’s going to do his thing. The thing his grandma hated. The thing that
shoots my heart into my throat.
He screams.
Not high pitched. No, it’s the rocker scream. Deep, guttural. Raw. He
holds it while the others go wild and the lights spin like a storm.
Bridger breaks, takes the fastest breath I’ve ever seen, and is right back at
the mic with his guitar. I’m about to combust and have to shriek and dance as
they play. Two more songs are much the same.
Before the start of their fifth song, Bridger steps back from the mic. His
eyes are bright. He’s made for this. I forget to breathe when he steals a glance
at the wing. Our eyes lock and he winks.
Is it betraying my status as nemesis if I admit I’d really like to kiss this
man?
The crowd quiets as the band sets up to do another song. But the mellow
moment is broken by a bellowing shout.
“Marry me, Bridger Cole!”
Bridger glances at the crowd. Frankly, I do too because, although, there
have been plenty of women screaming the same thing, that was certainly not
a female voice.
Bridger and I must see him at the same time because he laughs when I
snort.
Five rows from the stage, Parker holds up a handmade sign that says,
Bridger Cole is my true love. He’s trying to throw him off, and the way
Bridger is laughing, I’d say my brother won this one.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, our local baseball hero, Parker Knight!”
The lights flash to my brother and he recoils a bit, but he’s just cocky
enough he doesn’t completely shy away from the spotlight. And the spotlight
is certainly on him. Now, there are screams for the untamed ball player.
Parker is a mystery to the public and he’s made it that way intentionally. The
most people know is he’s obsessed with baseball, never wants to get married,
and is best friends with a rock band.
But mystery means challenge. Countless reporters have tried to earn
personal interviews. Even more women have tried to be ‘the one’ who heals
his heart.
Bridger crouches at the edge of the stage. “Park, I thought you’d never ask
me.”
With a quick signal, security helps part the crowd and Parker comes
forward. Bridger helps him on stage. They do their weird back clap hug,
Bridger mutters something no one can hear, my brother greets Tate and
Adam, then Parker waves at the cheering crowd before rushing out of the
way so the band can finish.
I roll my eyes and open my arms when he hurries to me in the shadows.
“You know some magazine somewhere is going to print that Bridger Cole
and Parker Knight are happily engaged, now.”
He laughs and hugs me. “He deserved it. Last game he arranged a kissing
line outside the clubhouse. He promised each woman I’d give them ten
minutes, Lex. Ten. Minutes. Do you know how hard that swarm was to
avoid?”
My eyes widen. “Okay. He deserved it.”
Parker and Becca share a few greetings, but we all quiet down when
Bridger goes to the mic again.
“This last one is for you.” He points at the crowd, then holds up his left
arm where a fire badge with his dad’s ladder number is inked on his inner
bicep. “Your sacrifice means everything. To your families, we thank you for
your sacrifice, too.” He pauses. Readies his guitar. “This is for you, Dad.”
The song is melancholy, a slow beat. A soft beat. It’s what I love about
Perfectly Broken. They rock hard, then have the most beautiful somber
songs. Bridger’s deep, smooth voice can sing a love song as well as he can
scream.
The crowd responds. Lights from cell phones are a sea of stars in the
stands as they hear Bridger’s tribute to them. To Garett. A sad story about
running in when everyone else runs out. About loss and love.
It’s one of my favorite songs.
Thought time could heal the broken side
Time goes on, but leaves me behind.
It cut you out the inside.
So, far away.
You’re so far away.
At the final chord there is a heartbeat or two before the audience roars its
applause. I’m wiping my eyes, too.
Forget Nadia. After that heart-wrenching love letter, who could ever
believe Bridger would harm a fly? The white fluttering curtain goes up again
and it’s time to make space for Blackthorne.
The guys hurry off, all grinning, all sweaty, and breathless.
Becca squeals and wraps Adam in her arms. “Babe! What was that? You
guys were on fire.”
He kisses her long and thorough, grinning against her mouth. “I know.
Energy was up and it was epic.”
He sort of growls and kisses her again.
“That was wild! Way to bring it, B,” Tate says and hooks his arm around
Bridger’s neck, causing them to stumble a bit.
Bridger’s eyes fall to me and I have my role to play. In truth, falling into
his voice after so long, it’s really, really hard to play the indifferent nemesis.
I smirk, and shrug. “It was okay.”
Bridger beams and tosses Tate off him. “I’m touched, Al. Reel back the
praise.”
He surprises me by doing the same as Tate and curling one arm around my
shoulders, drawing me against his side.
I don’t even care if I’m expected to toss out some kind of insult, tell him
he’s mediocre, or remind him if I was dancing, it doesn’t mean I like him.
My smile is genuine, the thrum of energy is palpable. He rocked tonight.
All of us make our way toward the room. Crew members congratulate the
band, and random screams from people who’ve been let backstage rattle our
heads.
"Bridger. Bridger Cole! It's Lydia. We dated."
I slow my step. Not because a woman shouted she was an ex of Bridger.
That would be ridiculous.
I glance at the crowd of backstage pass holders, now mixed with roadie
selected groupies. The kids are cute, and frankly, the most polite. But it's the
semi-familiar woman with short hair and too much eyeshadow I'm watching.
I nudge his ribs. "Know her? She looks familiar."
Bridger follows my gaze. This Lydia goes insane, waving her hands once
she realizes we're looking at her.
"Remember, Bridger?" she shouts. "We dated."
He squints his eyes. My jaw is tight. Again, not because I'm frustrated
Bridger undoubtedly has a long list of ex-lovers, no. I'm perturbed my retreat
to food in the greenroom has been halted. Really.
Until Bridger starts to laugh. His arm tightens around my shoulders, urging
me to rejoin this conversation. "Al, it's Lydia. The Dr. Pepper-library girl."
The woman frowns. "We dated."
"Is that what you call it?" Bridger chuckles and starts to tug me in the
opposite direction.
The women who'd been giving Lydia dagger eyes for catching Bridger's
attention are back at it, trying to earn his and the other guys' notice for
themselves.
I grin. No wonder she looked familiar. It's been over a decade since we had
a childish standoff, but it doesn't make this moment of in-your-face less
sweet. I won't descend into the ultimate pettiness, though. At least, not
entirely. I simply wiggle my fingers in a wave and say, "Hey there. Band
geeks rock, don't they? Thanks for coming."
"Bridger!" She shouts. "We've grown up, come on. Bridger!"
He doesn't turn around before a swarm of backstage crewmen usher the
band away. Meet and Greets aren't due to start until after the concert is over.
"That was wickedly satisfying," I mutter.
Bridger winks. He doesn't say it, but I wager he's thinking it. Outside the
greenroom, a guy with stylish glasses and a tailored suit waits for us. He’s
typing on his cell and only looks up when Tate lets out a loud laugh at
something Adam says.
“There they are! Awesome, awesome show. Good call using the last song,
Bridge. Wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”
Bridger stiffens, his arm still around my shoulders. “Wasn’t a strategy,
Tim. My dad died fifteen years ago. It was a tribute.”
“Right, right.” Tim isn’t listening, his eyes are homed in on me. “Who’s
this? We’re not doing the private meet and greets, yet. And frankly, I don’t
think with all that’s going on you should be taking, you know, private
moments with—”
“Uh, excuse me,” I interrupt, pulling back from Bridger. “I am not a meet
and greeter, thank you very much. Do I look like I’m here for funny
business?”
The guy scans my outfit. “Is that a serious question?”
Tate snorts but turns away when I glare at him.
“I’ll have you know something, sir, whoever you are—”
“Tim Grant, Perfectly Broken’s manager.” He holds out his hand, shaking
mine without skipping a beat.
“Okay, good to meet you. Now let me tell you something, Tim Grant—I
am not a groupie. And if I were, I’d definitely be Tate’s, not Bridger’s.”
“Lex,” Parker says in a growl.
Tate nods proudly and puckers his lips at me. Bridger doesn’t think the
joke is funny, and his narrowed gaze sort of draws me to a pause, but the
tongue has been unleashed, so I barrel on. “I am a librarian who happens to
like rock and roll. Seriously, I thought I was dressed pretty conservatively.
Do I not look like a librarian?” I tap Bridger’s arm and gesture to my figure.
“I’m not even wearing earrings. If I wanted to put the moves on a rockstar,
don’t you think I’d wear bright red lipstick, not Vaseline Chapstick?”
Bridger’s eyes swallow me whole, his jaw pulses. For a moment I’m
mesmerized. Is he checking me out?
Not what I intended when I asked the question. I hold my breath, hoping
he can’t see the thud of my pulse in my neck.
He snaps out of it with a quick shake to his head. “She’s Parker’s sister.”
“Oh,” Tim says, completely brushing all previous interaction away.
“Pleasure to meet you. She’s perfect, Bridge. Perfect. I’ll have Mallorie tell
Candi she can head home and we won’t be needing her after all.”
Bridger curses and scrubs his face. “You really had someone waiting?”
Tim looks aghast. “Did I sound like I wasn’t serious? The song was
perfect, broke their hearts, now the personal image needs to be molded into
our narrative. That GMA teaser got over a hundred thousand hits in four
hours. Wait until the book is out.”
The good mood fizzles like a balloon leaking air. Lance clears his throat
and shoves Bridger’s shoulder. “Well, some of us aren’t grounded from meet
and greets. See ya later.”
The bassist abandons us, and Bridger wears a stoic face. I raise my hand. A
habit of mine when I’m not sure who is meant to speak. I know, it’s weird.
Tim flicks his eyes to me. “Yes?”
“Um, I’m perfect for what? And who is Candi?”
“She’s now insignificant,” he says with a grin. “But you, you’re his good
name, Miss Knight.”
“Come again?”
“Tim,” Bridger warns. “Al is not—”
“I’m not what? I think I can decide for myself what I am and am not.
What’s going on?”
“Is this the thing you told me about?” Parker asks. Bridger nods. Now, my
brother laughs at Tim. “Oh, man. If you want Bridger with a good girl who
fawns over him and pumps up his ego and image, you’re going to want to
pick someone besides Alexis.”
Fawns over? I wouldn’t fawn, but it doesn’t mean I like the idea of anyone
else fawning. My chest squeezes. I need to stop these rogue possessive, needy
thoughts. Soon. Bridger is still Bridger. Arrogant, rude, annoying. He’s all
those things and always will be. This new need to touch him, laugh with him,
and be by him can scurry away.
“You’re setting Bridger up with someone?”
“Afraid it’s a need at this point,” Tim says. “He needs to show the cameras
he’s not so far gone that he can’t attract a sweet librarian.”
Tim winks at me. But my stomach goes out through my sneakers.
“No,” Bridger says.
“Seconded.” Parker crosses his arms, a stony expression.
“I don’t know,” Becca says with a sly grin. “You guys already know each
other. You might have the perfect setup.”
“Do explain,” Bridger says, exasperated.
“Well, if Candi has to be your sidekick, if I had to guess, it’ll be hard to cut
ties when this all blows over. We don’t want another Erika, right?”
A collective shudder runs through the group. I’ll never forget the woman
who kept showing up at Bridger’s shows, convinced he was her husband.
When she broke into his bat cave, that’s when it went to a new level. Last I
heard, Erika was still getting help at the state hospital. Delusions of grandeur
they called it.
“I’m liking this train of thought,” Tim says.
“We fight,” Bridger tells him. “Seriously. We fight. Right, Al?”
“I wouldn’t fight. I’m a pleasant person. It’s you who insists on being
totally impossible.”
“See.” Bridger gestures at me, clearly satisfied his point is made.
Tim waves us away. “Fight all you want behind closed doors. Give a few
hugs, a few laughs after shows, and give the press something to wonder about
as this hailstorm hits. The label will compensate you, Miss—”
“I beg your pardon?” My mouth parts. “I am not someone who can be
bought, Mr. Grant. I can give Bridger Cole a piece of my mind for free, thank
you very much. And another thing, this Nadia disaster, I don’t need to be
asked twice to smile pretty next to Bridge if it means shutting her down. I’ll
do it. Of course, I’ll do it.” Then, I reel on Bridger. “Even if I laugh at your
dumb jokes, or let you hold my hand, this doesn’t mean I like you, Cole!”
And with that beautiful display, I storm into the greenroom.
They need someone to knock Nadia off her lying pedestal? Sign. Me. Up.
But it’s not because I have anything but irritation for Bridger Cole. He gets
under my skin like no one else.
I’m not so sure I mind.
Chapter 16
Bridger
SUMMER—2009
Desert Sands Library is small, old, and rarely full. Especially on a Friday
evening. But there is something incredibly awesome about Desert Sands
Library, particularly in the back section where the old encyclopedias are kept.
It’s never used.
Not since they added the computers at the front. Now the shelves are filled
with thick, red books and an extra layer of dust.
Which is why it’s the perfect place to check off the Mesa High rite of
passage—making out for as long as possible before Miss Cook, the old
librarian, catches you.
Parker made it a full thirty minutes last Thursday. Tate—freaking two
hours! They didn’t even get caught, just left because something was up with
his gramps and he had to hurry home.
It’s no secret between working at the drive-in four nights a week, keeping
up with Brooks’s homework since Mom has been covering late shifts, my
own homework, band practice at school, plus trying to catch gigs with
Warped Head, I date less than any of my friends.
Tonight is mine, though.
Parker’s thirty-minute girl has a cousin.
I park my dad’s old blue Honda, grinning at the passenger seat. She’s hot.
Long hair that reminds me of strawberries, big green eyes. Tight skirt. She
laughs at my jokes, she held my hand first. Plus she doesn’t know anything
about me, my family, nothing.
If the night keeps going like it has been, I think by morning I might start
falling for Lydia Taylor.
Maybe she’ll come to my shows? I could be that guy—the rocker who has
his girl screaming his name. Parker keeps warning me to cool it with chicks.
He says I like them too hard, too fast. But he’s never met Lydia. A smile
curls in the corner of my mouth.
“What are we doing here?”
My stomach is tight. I’m nervous, but only pansy’s get nervous. I’m
sixteen. I’m in a new rock band. No better time than now to learn how to be
the suave rockstar. I glance at her. “We’re going to do the dirty dip.”
Confidence is key here.
“The dirty dip?”
Rockstar. I lean over the console and pinch her chin between my thumb
and finger. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to kiss me all night.”
Her eyes widen, but she does this hot little thing where she bites her
bottom lip. I give her a rundown on the rules and my inner David Bowie
must’ve come out because she agrees. My palm is practically drenched when
I take her hand and tug her inside the library.
It’s dead quiet and smells like dust that hasn’t been touched for a century,
but who cares? This is happening.
A single guy is at the counter checking out, and I fight off the groan when I
catch sight of the girl behind the counter. She’s still wearing braces because
her teeth are that crooked, and glasses that don’t really fit right. Can’t fault
her for that, though, Mama Knight never takes her in to get them resized.
She’s made this place a total mood killer since she got hired on a couple
months ago. Parker never comes in when Al is here, and let’s be honest, she’s
always here. He’s lucky he got thirty-minute girl on her one day off.
Al finishes checking the guy out, then returns to reading a thick book.
Some romance that looks like it’s set in World War II. I want to groan again
—when is she going to catch on that sci-fi is where it’s at?
I try to lead Lydia past Alexis, but it’s like Al has a sixth sense and must
take any opportunity to be annoying.
“What are you doing here?”
I roll my eyes and glance at her. She sips a pink lemonade through a straw,
glaring between me and Lydia.
“It’s a library,” I say. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“Since you can’t read, I really can’t say.”
Lydia balks. See, she’s even the kind of girl who’ll stand up for me. I hit
the jackpot.
I lean over the counter, grinning snidely. “Hey, why don’t you live your
life through that book and just avoid the back row for the next three hours.”
Alexis pinches her lips, eyes narrowed, but she doesn’t get a chance to say
anything. Lydia tugs me away by the arm.
“Who is that?”
“Parker’s little sister.”
Lydia looks over her shoulder and snorts a laugh. “That’s his sister? Talk
about opposites. He’s a jock and she looks like a total dork.”
My stomach curls. I look over my shoulder. Al is returning books back to
the shelves, sort of keeping a close distance. She probably wants to watch,
but I’m still stuck on Lydia insulting her. I’m pretty sure Alexis heard, and
that doesn’t sit right.
“She’s not a dork,” I say. “She just likes to read a lot.”
“Whatever,” Lydia says, pulling me into the right row. The overhead light
is out. It’s dark, quiet, and perfect. She goes onto her toes and hovers her lips
over mine. “I don’t care what she does, but I’ll stick to the jocks like you.”
Lydia kisses me. She’s a hard kisser. Sort of fast and wet. I like it, but . . .
I’m not a jock.
“I, uh—” I start to say between kisses. Whoa, her hands are everywhere. “I
don’t play sports.”
Lydia pauses. “I thought you played with Parker.”
My fingertips dance down her spine. I lean in and kiss her, but she’s not as
vigorous. I shake my head. “No, he’s the ball player. I’m in a band.”
Lydia pulls away, her hand on my chest. Not in a sexy way, more like
she’s keeping me at a distance. “You’re in band. As in the school band?”
“Yeah, and a garage band. We’re playing at—”
“Like marching band?”
“No. Regular band.”
Lydia snickers, eyeing me kind of how she looked at Alexis. “You’re a
band geek? Gross.”
Heat prickles up the back of my neck. It’s not a new thing. I’ve heard it
before from some of the football players. Until they heard Warped Head play.
They don’t laugh at me for being in a band now.
Lydia scoffs and starts walking away. “My cousin told me you played with
Parker.”
“Come back to my house, I’ll play for you. We’re already scoring gigs.”
“What? You think you’re going to be like, famous or something? Super
lame.”
I don’t answer and she laughs. Actually laughs at me. I’d be totally
satisfied if the heavy encyclopedia shelves tipped over and buried me alive.
“Hey.”
My blood freezes.
Alexis stands behind us, holding two Dr. Pepper cans. This night couldn’t
get any worse. She heard Lydia laughing, no mistake, and Al is getting
quicker with her comebacks. She’ll never let me live this down.
Alexis holds out a can to Lydia. “Free drinks tonight. We like to clean out
the fridge before the new week. If you needed to take a breather.”
Lydia takes the can, so do I, but my eyes are on Alexis. They don’t give
out free drinks. Miss Cook guards her Dr. Pepper like a rabid wolf.
“Cool,” Lydia says. “Come on, Bridger. I want to go home.”
Alexis shakes her head when I reach for the can top. She mouths, Don’t do
it, at the same time Lydia pops her top. A frothy explosion hits her in the
mouth, then dribbles down her white T-shirt and hands.
“Oh!” Lydia screams as more soda spills out. It’s all over the carpet by the
time it ends. Lydia glares at Alexis. “You loser. You shook it on purpose.”
“Revenge of the nerds!” Alexis does her weird, evil laugh. This time, I
laugh with her.
Lydia shoots me with her glare and shoves her wet soda can in my hands.
“You know what, forget driving me. I’ll call my cousin. You’re both losers.”
I stand there holding two sodas, silent for a long time.
Alexis inspects the carpet. “I better clean this up. Miss Cook will probably
fire me for touching her Dr. Pepper. Kind of a bummer. I liked this job and
it’s one of the few places that’ll hire a fourteen-year-old.”
“She won’t fire you,” I say. “We’re going to buy some more and you’re
going to take the credit for the surprise. She’ll give you a raise.”
“I don’t get off until nine. The store will be closing.”
“I’ll go buy some.”
She tilts her head. “Ah, cute. You don’t want me to get fired.”
“I don’t. If you get fired, then you’ll have more free time to bother us. Go
get the towels, I’ll help get this cleaned up first.”
Alexis grins and disappears into the bathroom. She returns with damp
paper towels and we start dabbing at the spilled soda in silence.
“Hey, Bridge?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not a loser. You’re just perfectly broken and at the last talent show
you looked way more like a rocker than a band geek. You’ll for sure be one
in a million.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile. “Al, I’m only going to say
this once, so listen.” She lifts her eyes to me. “You’re not even close to a
loser, either.”
Alexis smiles at the carpet. “Hey, don’t think this means I like you, Cole.”
I nudge her shoulder. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Chapter 17
Bridger
Quinn sat in the front of the car. Alexis and me in the back, what’s left of
the fries and chicken fingers are smelling up the backseat between us.
I look out one window. She looks out the other.
My phone lights up for the fifth time. The same message.
Tim: Bridger, I can see you’ve been getting my texts. You’ve GOT to get
her to sign that NDA.
Alexis glances at me, she must read my face, and grins. “Is he still at it?
Well, be sure and tell him I’ll go to my grave before I sign one of those
stupid things. It’s offensive and rude. Oh, but also tell him the picture of his
wife and daughter on his phone were adorable. Seriously, so cute.”
I tuck my phone away and shake my head. “Yeah, they’re great, but he’s
ruthless. Even if he’s always smiling. It’s his job to keep the band’s best
interests, Al. He’s not going to give up.”
“I’m not going to sign it.” She looks out the window again. “But I’m also
not going to tell anyone anything. I’m not Nadia, Bridger.”
I wince. It’s a shot to the gut. I have been closed off with Alexis. In a way
treating her like Nadia, and it’s never been that way with Alexis.
“I know,” I say. “But I also think you’re making a mistake agreeing to do
this.”
Alexis shifts in her seat the best she can with the seatbelt and pierces me
with her gaze. “Why? Why is the idea of anyone being close to you so
terrible? You’re not some broken thing.”
I laugh. “Perfectly Broken.”
She rolls her eyes. “I still think I deserve a royalty check for coming up
with your band name. It’s so much better than the first one.”
“Warped Head was awesome,” I say, my shoulders relaxing. Per usual, a
few tangents with Alexis and I’m forgetting the stresses of reality.
“No. It was a dumb name.” She takes another fry. “You are, you know.”
“What?”
“Perfectly Broken. And perfectly broken people deserve good things. You
deserve a lot of mean and nasty things, too, because you’re terrible. But all
the work you’ve put in to bring you to this place.” She grins at me. “You
deserve to stay in a positive light, Bridger. She doesn’t get to take any of this
away from you. Not while I’m around.”
I clench my fist over my knee to keep from reaching out and pulling her
against me and kissing her until we can’t breathe anymore. There isn’t any
point in trying to shove the thoughts away, either. They’re on a constant
replay and I’m starting to enjoy the forbidden more and more. Parker will
murder me if he ever finds out the thoughts I have about his sister.
“Fine, Al,” I say and pull sunglasses over my eyes to annoy her. “You have
no idea what you signed up for. I’m a very needy boyfriend. Get ready for it.”
“Pfft. I can take anything you’ve got, Cole.”
I wish she would. I really wish she would.
Chapter 18
Alexis
SPRING—2013
I don’t want to drive home with Tyler. He’s been pushing the limits all
through prom and it has sort of ruined it for me. Senior prom only comes
once and I wish I would’ve gone without a date at this point.
Mom isn’t home, not that she’d care. She practically expects me to hole up
in a motel with my prom date. My house is empty now that Parker is at
Arizona State. To make it worse, he’s even further since Arizona is playing
against LSU this week.
Tyler pulls into my driveway. The house is darker than pitch, and he stares
at me with a hungry gleam in his eye.
“Thanks for taking me,” I say and smooth out my light blue dress. “I had
fun.”
Tyler shuts off the ignition. “You’re not going to invite me in?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, my mom is home and wouldn’t like it.”
He laughs and scoots closer. “Your mom is at the club working her stuff.”
I narrow my eyes. Maybe I’m not close with my mom, maybe she has
problems, but I don’t like how everyone uses her past against her. “She’s not
a dancer, Tyler. She’s a waitress. But even if she were, you don’t need to say
it all judgey like that.”
“Whatever. All I’m saying is the night doesn’t have to end.”
I pull back. “Um, yeah. I’m good.”
Tyler’s face shadows. “Come on, Alexis. I did all this stuff all day. Dinner,
pictures. And I don’t even get a kiss.”
I snort my irritation. “I’ll pay half if it’s that big of an issue.”
When I reach for the door handle, Tyler grips my arm and tugs me to him.
“Or you could be a good prom date and settle it like normal girls.”
He leans down to kiss me and I shove him back. “Get off me, you jerk!”
“It’s a kiss, Alexis. It’s not like I’m pushing for more.” He grips the back
of my head, a sly grin on his face. “But if you want more, I mean, we’re both
eighteen. We can do what we want and—”
He doesn’t finish. The driver side door rips open, and a hand curls around
Tyler’s suit coat, pulling him onto the driveway.
“She said not to touch her!”
Tyler holds up his hands. “Whoa, Cole. Take it easy. We’re good.”
My breath catches when Bridger lowers into a crouch, hovering over Tyler
on the ground, his eyes like hot coals. “We’re not good. Not even close. Get
out of the car, Alexis.” He doesn’t look at me, but I oblige without argument.
Bridger tugs on Tyler’s tie, so their faces are nose to nose. “Get out of here.
Don’t even look in her direction again, Sanderson.”
Tyler scrambles to his feet and into his car, cursing under his breath.
“You’re not even her brother,” he says as Bridger slams the door.
Only once Tyler’s taillights fade into the night do I look at Bridger. He’s
been gone so much lately. An indie record company signed the guys a year
ago and to get their name out to the world, the label has kept them on the
road for three months. Mostly playing small venues and clubs across the
state. But I heard a Perfectly Broken song on the radio and I about lost my
voice from screaming so loud.
They’re making it and I don’t know what surprises me more. That Bridger
is off the road, or that he’s here, waiting for me to get home from prom.
I narrow my eyes. “Thanks for embarrassing me! Now everyone is going
to laugh at me. Why did you do that, Bridger?”
Another surprise. Instead of a smart retort, Bridger jogs after me to my
front door. His palms trap the sides of my face. I don’t move, I don’t breathe.
“You want to fight me on this, Alexis? You want to argue that I should’ve let
that guy keep his hands all over you? Try it. I dare you.”
I shake him off. “What are you doing here? Where are your new
groupies?”
A flash of anger fills his expression. “Really? I help you out and you throw
it back at me.” He lets out a long breath. “You’ve been worse than normal
since we started taking off.”
“Yeah, well you think you’re Led Zeppelin or something. I don’t need
cocky rockstars.”
“So you admit we’re rockstars. About time.”
“You’re an opening act,” I bite out. “And I don’t need your help.”
Bridger growls, a real growl, and has me caged against my door. I freeze.
His hands are flat on either side of my head, his mouth close. I want it closer
and I hate it.
“Say thank you, Al.”
“No.”
“Why are you such a . . . You’re like a spoiled brat who wants one thing,
then does another.”
“Look in the mirror.”
“Say thank you.”
“No!”
He stares at me, challenging me. I don’t blink. I don’t back down, and
before I know it, his mouth crushes against mine. He tastes sweet and minty.
I close my eyes, my arms around his neck.
“This . . .” I whisper against his mouth. “This doesn’t mean I like you,
Cole.”
He pulls away, his lips hover over mine. “Parker is going to kill me.”
“Then stop.”
Bridger tugs on the back of my head and kisses me again. He resists. He
kisses my jaw, my neck, back to my lips.
All at once, he breaks away with a curse, leaving me breathless, my back
against my front door. We kissed. A real kiss, and I need to brace against the
door to keep upright.
Bridger paces on the porch his fingers laced behind his head. He’s gotten
more tattoos on his arms and I want to trace each one. I want him to leave. I
need him to touch me again.
His eyes are wild when he turns back to me.
“Safety net moment. I didn’t like that guy touching you because—”
Bridger comes closer, his hands on the sides of my neck. He drops his gaze,
gathering thoughts, then lifts his eyes to mine. “Because I want to be the one
who touches you. The one with you.”
It takes all my composure to keep my head from spinning. I can’t lose it.
This is simply a heated moment. We’ve had plenty of those, to be sure. But
this one, oh, this one is different. Needy and desperate. Passion makes people
lose their minds and make terrible, life-changing choices. He’s getting started
on something I know will be big. I’ve always known he’d get here, and I’m
not going to let one fight, one moment of unbidden heat ruin it. For either of
us.
“No you don’t,” I say with as much deliberateness as I can manage.
“Don’t speak for me.”
“You don’t want me. You’re just being protective. Like Parker.”
He glares at me. “I am not a brother to you, Alexis. Not in any way.”
“You’re at the beginning of a music career, Bridger,” I say, voice soft.
“You think I’m going to believe you aren’t going to get lost in fans and girls
who want you?”
He steps back as if I burned him. “You think I’d cheat on someone? On
you?”
“I know you get caught up in the idea of love and relationships and—”
“Not with you!” His face softens and he drags his fingers through his hair.
“Not with you, Al. I’ve resisted you. You think I want to be here, doing this?
You’re like, like a constant thorn in my side. You’re my best friend’s sister!”
“Wow. I’m swooning.”
He almost grins and slips his fingers through mine, then guides our hands
behind my back, holding me against his body. “But you’re a beautiful thorn.
And I can’t keep pretending you haven’t dug deep inside me.”
My pulse won’t stop racing. All I want is to throw caution to the wind and
lose myself in him. But I promised myself I’d always be cautious. I wouldn’t
open my heart to silly romantic whims because I refuse to depend on anyone.
I refuse to be my mother. She lost her love after my dad died when I was a
baby, and she’s been searching ever since. She latches onto this furious
whirlwind like Bridger is bringing and she is always, always burned in the
end.
I will not be her.
I’ve stood on my own two feet my entire life and I’m not about to stumble
now. It would ruin me and it would ruin Bridger. Truth be told, I care way
too much about his stupidly wonderful heart to ever hurt him in that way.
I pull away from him, shaking my head. “No, Bridger. No. We’re not
going down that road—”
“Alexis don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt something.”
“I won’t lie. But that’s exactly why we’re not going there. We’re too
emotional. Too involved. You need to live your life and I’ll live mine.
Nothing will change. I’ll tell you when you’re a total jerk, since you are
99.365 percent of the time, and you’ll become that one in a million. You’ll
live it up, and you’ll never resent me for tying you down.”
“Tying me down?”
“I would, and I don’t . . . I don’t want the wild life, you know. I’ve seen
what that does.”
“You don’t want me is what you’re really saying.”
I want him too much and that’s the problem. When it falls apart, we’d both
break.
He flinches, and I’m forced to blink away tears as he takes a step back.
“This isn’t over, Alexis.”
I open my front door. “It is.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I hang my head and close the door on him. We’ll keep this between us.
That’s what our safety nets mean. We crack our ribs open and bear our hearts
and keep our mouths shut once we stitch ourselves back up again.
But tonight, I slide down the wall and hug my knees to my chest. My ribs
are still cracked when I bury my face in the ruffles of my dress. I cry. For the
first time in all our bickering, our rude words, Bridger Cole makes me cry.
He’s right. It’s not over. With him, it’ll never be over.
Chapter 20
Bridger
HE’S A MONSTER.
He’s an abusive junkie
#boycottBridger
Sounds fishy.
She might be lying. He does a lot of charity.
You never really know a person, I guess.
I put my phone in my pocket, already tired of the flood of commentary still
pinging my alerts since Nadia’s book release.
Each day brings a new battle between sides. I have some supporters. There
are plenty of haters. Nadia’s accusations brought into question some of my
sponsorships. Tim was prepared, though, and has been battling to keep
funding coming in from appearances and commercials we’ve done in the
past.
One of our shows was pulled in Iowa from next spring’s tour. I expect
more to be canceled. The entire PR team at Enigma is working overtime, all
to save my stupid hide.
It’s become like background noise thanks to Alexis.
She had everything arranged on opening day of the book of lies. Parker
had the night off between away games and came over. Tate, Ellie—they put
down their weapons for my sake—Becca, Adam. Lance didn’t make it, but
he’s not really into the whole family thing.
We didn’t look at anything online. We didn’t watch any interviews. Didn’t
read any reviews. Alexis arranged for us to go back to being teenagers and
we had an Xbox night until three in the morning.
It was perfect.
I didn’t look at anything for three days after it broke, but was forced to get
involved when someone tried to break into my house. Some girl basically
raised a mob of women with pitchforks. They collided with women who still
wanted me to marry them. It wasn’t good. Police were called.
I knew they’d find out where I lived.
Thankfully, Quinn knows what he’s doing, and for the last two weeks no
one has been outside the gates. Last week, Mallorie gave Alexis and me the
all-clear to resume our staged appearances.
I think it’s a terrible idea.
People believe everything they read, and I’m not clueless that it puts a
target on my back for retaliation. I can handle me, it’s her I’m worried about.
If anyone did anything to her . . . I don’t even let myself think of it.
“Al,” I call down the hallway and wait until she pokes her head out of her
bedroom. I hold up the packet. “Tim sent you a present again.”
She rolls her eyes and disappears back into the room for half a breath. She
returns, a satchel slung over her shoulder, shorts that show off her legs too
well, and sneakers that have pink laces. Mallorie will lose her mind knowing
she’s not wearing the nude stilettos she had the stylists send over.
I love how Alexis looks.
“Is he ever going to stop?” She brushes past me. “I’m not signing an NDA.
I sent bagels and schmear to the offices this morning, so I thought he’d love
me by now.”
“Oh, he does. You keep sending thank you carbs to the staff and you’ll
always win Tim over.”
“Well, they deserve it. They’re like your own personal army and have kept
things fairly tame, all things considered.”
Can’t disagree with her. Enigma has the right team to manage these
scandals, but the team for Perfectly Broken is more than that. I like to think
they genuinely care about me and the guys. Which is where Tim’s head is
with the papers. I hold them up again. “He loves your deliveries, but still
wants you to sign it. Even texts me once in the morning and once at night.
He’s basically my alarm clock now.”
She rolls her eyes and pushes through the kitchen door. I enjoy it a little
too much when she comes to an abrupt stop.
“Bridger, what is this?”
“Breakfast of champions.” I wink at her and open my arms to the
strawberry parfait bar I set up. I even found her favorite kind of granola. The
one with candied almonds in it. “Or at least the breakfast for lunatics who
voluntarily agree to get swarmed.”
She snorts a laugh and adds the slivered strawberries to a touch of yogurt
and at least four heaping portions of granola. “I’m the chef, Cole.”
“Well, take a day off. This is my thank you food.”
Her eyes brighten as she takes it all in. “Speaking of days off, I have an
interview at the library.”
“Yeah? That’ll be the most boring job ever. Congratulations.”
She smacks my arm, laughing. “You realize I’m going to school for library
studies.”
“Yes, I do. Still liking it a month in?” I take the yogurt spoon from her and
make my own parfait.
“It’s great. But I’m pretty sure someone took my picture on campus the
other day.”
That brings me to a pause. My chest tightens. “You sure?”
“I don’t know. There was a guy holding a camera, and it looked like he
hurried to turn away from me. I’m pretty sure I heard a click, though.”
“Al—”
She holds up a hand. “We knew it would happen. And since we checked
off that radio interview and they posted me all cozied up to you on their
website, it was going to happen pretty quickly. You saw their Instagram post.
All the questions about the chick on Bridger’s arm. Some of them were mean,
you know.”
I tug on her hand. The last few weeks it’s become easier, more natural, to
touch Alexis Knight. She rests her forehead to my chest as my arms curl
around her waist. “They’ll get worse, Al. I promise they will. Block them out
because I’d never change anything about you.”
“Nothing, huh?”
I smile and rest my chin on her head. “Except all your annoying things.
Which is a lot, so maybe I would.”
She smacks my chest and pulls away. “Same for you, sir. Same for you.
Hey, I better get going.”
I nod, snatching my keys from the peg on the wall. “Let’s go.”
“Uh, where are you going?”
“I’m taking you to school. Coffee run morning, remember?”
She rolls her eyes. “Right. Because everyone wants to be trampled in
Starbucks this early in the morning.”
I hurry and help put things away in the kitchen, leave a note for Gabby to
help herself to the leftovers when she comes, then head out to make our latest
public appearance.
It’s working. Mallorie knows what she’s doing, I’ll give her that. The little
peeks at me with another girl is working. Interest is piqued, and in the last
week or two talk has shifted from boycotting my band to the good girl who
wears sneakers always hanging with me. Why would a girl like that mess
with a rocker who hurts women?
It’s a little bit of a miracle no one has connected her name yet since she’s
Parker’s sister. I have a feeling some of our PR people have been controlling
it. But it’ll break eventually, then Parker will no doubt have more to worry
about himself.
I wave to Quinn at the lower door. Alexis hands him a parfait I didn’t
know she brought and says, “Later Thor.”
He laughs and settles into his chair with his breakfast. My blood heats. She
doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she fits here. Everyone from my security
to my dog loves Alexis.
In the jeep her phone dings. She looks at it, frowns, and puts it away.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Okay.” I pause and wait for it.
“It’s Bryce. He keeps wanting to meet with me. To talk he says. What is
there to talk about?”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Don’t meet with him, Al. Not
now.”
She gives me a narrowed look. “I won’t mess with your reputation,
Bridger. I agreed to this, so I’ll be sure to look like I’m not stepping out on
you. Don’t worry.”
“Would you relax,” I say, laughing. “I wasn’t thinking of me. I don’t want
you to meet with him because he doesn’t deserve to be within a hundred
yards of you.”
Her face reddens, and she faces the window, no doubt hiding her own grin.
“Just drive, Cole. I need coffee.”
I laugh again. “Yes, ma’am.”
We don’t go to Starbucks. Alexis grins when we pull into a smoothie place
we used to come to whenever my parents took us to Vegas as kids. It’s
twenty minutes from the Strip with less people.
Alexis beams at me. “I don’t think Juicie was on the approved list of
public appearances.”
“It isn’t,” I say. “Less crowds and I really do want a drink before I get
tackled.”
“Good choice, sir. Good choice. You know they serve iced hot chocolate
here. I always thought it sounded gross until—”
“I forced you to try it on your twelfth birthday. And I was right, wasn’t I?
Like I am about everything.”
“Never mind. I was going to compliment you, but not now. Forget it.
You’re full of yourself.”
I tug her against my side at the door, my lips to her ear. She shudders and I
love it. “Careful, Al. You’re supposed to be head over heels in love with me
right now.”
Her eyes pop; she swallows. I think I have control here, until Alexis drags
her hand over my chest, around my neck, her fingertips rolling one of my
earrings between them. I have no control. She could mold me to do anything
right now.
“That,” she begins, voice low and soft. “Will be incredibly hard to
pretend.”
I smile for show—people are starting to look our way—except what they
don’t know is none of this is for show. Not for me. “Can’t say I mind
watching you try.”
She licks her lips and stumbles a bit at the door. “We, uh, we better get
going.”
There are a few people getting orders. Two guys at a raised table stare at
us, eyes wide. They don’t say anything, but I assume they recognize me.
They think I can’t see them snapping pictures, but they aren’t good at hiding.
This is what we’re supposed to do. Gain positive attention. An older couple
has no idea who I am and hardly looks our way, but the cashier sort of gasps
as we give an order.
She hardly says a word, but, clearly, wants to. She’s polite and
professional, and I appreciate it as she hands our cups over the counter.
“Um,” the girl says. She’s probably sixteen tops. “Are you . . . in Perfectly
Broken?”
I take the ice hot chocolates and nod. “I am.”
The girl lets out a long breath. “Cool. My brother, he’s like a huge fan. Me,
too, but he is like a huge, huge fan. I don’t want to be annoying, but he’s in
the hospital right now and would freak out if I got your autograph and a
picture.”
“No problem.” I signal for her to join me around the counter, glancing at
her nametag “I hope he gets better soon, Molly.”
She blanches. “Yeah. He, uh, he’s got Leukemia, but the doctors think this
next round of radiation will put him into remission. He’s responded really
well, so fingers crossed.”
My throat tightens. This isn’t for show anymore, simply a natural thing the
guys and I said we’d do in situations like this. It’s my favorite part of the job.
“What hospital is he at? If you don’t mind, I’d like to send some things from
the band.”
“Mind?” She lets out a little squeak. “He’ll flip! Yes, please. He’s, he’s
just at the regional hospital. Dustin Barlow is his name. Oh my gosh, this is
awesome. You’re awesome.”
The older couple watches, a little confused, as the cashier hurries around
the counter, hands Alexis her cellphone so we can snap a picture. We hold up
rock on signs, then she hugs me. Alexis runs out to the jeep and finds a
picture of the entire band, and a large Perfectly Broken hoodie. I don’t know
if it’ll fit Dustin, but I sign both and hand them to Molly.
“Thank you! I don’t believe all that stuff that came out about you, by the
way. Neither does Dustin.”
“Smart girl,” Alexis says like she simply can’t help herself. “Don’t trust
everything you read.”
The girl is a teenager, so the cynic in me wants to say she doesn’t know
much about the world, but it means something hearing I’ve got support face
to face.
“Thank you,” I say, voice hoarse. “Tell Dustin when he’s feeling better
you two will have backstage passes to the next local show.”
She squeals again and I’m lost in the moment. This is what I always
wanted from music. The smiles, the joy, that can be spread. Alexis takes my
hand, and I give her a quick smile. She gets it. Then again, she’s always
understood this dream of mine. Even if she told me I was a horrible human
most days, she always told me I’d be one in a million more.
“Want to stay here or take them to go?” I ask.
She shrugs. “People are on your side here, I say we stay for a bit.”
I sit at the table and we’re left alone. The guys stare, but keep their
distance. Molly busies about, a grin on her face. The older couple doesn’t
even care we’re next to them. I get to just be with Alexis. Like we used to be.
“Times up,” she says with a sigh at her watch. “Education calls.”
Drinks in hand, we wave at Molly, and head for the door.
We don’t make it far.
In the time we spent inside, a mob of cameras has built outside. Alexis
presses to my side. I share a look with her. They’re surrounding my jeep. It’s
a crowd large enough I’d have Quinn clearing a path for me. We’re alone out
here, and they’re practically foaming at the mouth when we open the door.
I hug Alexis against me, one palm covering her head. Cameras are
swinging, hands reaching out recording devices, so many questions hit me all
at once.
“Bridger! What happened that night between you and Nadia?”
“Who is the girl?”
“Are you on the market again?”
“Do you plan to be violent with her, too?”
That one gets me to stop. I offer the guy an incredulous look, then keep
shoving through.
“Is this your girlfriend? Does she know about your drug use?”
“What do you say to Nadia’s claims you’re reconciling?”
We’re poked and prodded. There are so many people it takes me half a
breath to realize at my next step, Alexis isn’t at my side anymore. My blood
chills when I hear her quiet scream. She’s on the ground. Guys, women,
snapping pictures. She must’ve stumbled in the frenzy, and now the sharks
are devouring her.
“Get back.” I swim through them, pushing back, trying to reach her. “Get
off her.”
I help Alexis to her feet. If I wasn’t seeing red right now, I might laugh.
She sort of kicks her feet out, hair a mess, snarling.
“You’re like animals,” she shouts back at them. “And you spilled my iced
hot chocolate! I want apologies! Geez, is this what you all aspired to be in
life—harassers? Dream bigger!”
They’re not listening, only capturing her rant as I shove open the driver’s
side door of my jeep and practically toss her inside. The pappos have a little
bit of sense to back up when I roll forward and speed out of the parking lot.
When we’re out of sight, I let out an angry breath and glance at Alexis.
She’s dabbing her lip and holding her forehead. I curse, loud enough she lifts
a brow. “They hit you?” I’m seething. About to turn around and give them
something to write about.
Alexis rests a hand on my arm. “Easy. I’m fine. I smacked my face when I
fell, no one hit me. I think one guy was even trying to help me, but the
wolves ate him up.”
My jaw clenches until my teeth ache. “We’re not doing this anymore.”
“Bridge, I’m okay. But I think . . . I don’t want to go to class bloody. I
might need to call in a sick day. They don’t really have those in college, but
I’m making it up.”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. “You are. Not even a question.”
Alexis smiles, but behind it all there is a bit of fleeting fear. This scared
her, but she’ll pretend it didn’t. I relax a bit, though, when she leans her head
against my shoulder. “Don’t think what I say next means I like you, Cole, but
. . . thanks for saving me back there.”
“Always, Al,” I say.
Safety nets. I lost hers once. After I put my heart out there for her to take, I
screwed up, and deserved for her to pull the net out from under me.
I hadn't deserved her.
Not with the life I was leading back then.
But she’s here now. The more I think about it, she was always there. Even
when she said she wasn’t. Alexis Knight has always been my safety net.
I didn’t deserve it then, and truth be told, I’m not sure I do now.
Chapter 21
Bridger
SUMMER—2015
Alexis: Hey. The show was okay. I guess it’s sort of cool you’re not an
opening act anymore. The door guy said there was over 2,000 people. Almost
impressive.
Alexis: Are you ignoring me? I need to talk to you, so if you’re not too
busy being a cool rockstar, I have something to say. And you know how I get
when I have something to say and can’t say it. My head explodes.
Alexis: Bridger I can see that you’ve read these texts. Answer me.
Alexis: I tried to call. Who do you think you are? You ignored my call. I
NAMED YOUR BAND!
Alexis: Fine. I’ll just get it out. I know you saw James kiss me at the show.
Parker told me it bothered you. I’m sorry. I didn’t come to rub anything in
your face even after I saw the pictures of you with that model. We said we
wouldn’t let the doorstep scene change anything, but Parker told me you
drank quite a bit after the show. Don’t go there, Bridger. Please. Don’t be
the stereotypical rocker. It’s not worth it. This concern doesn’t mean I like
you, Cole.
A week later.
Alexis: Really? Disorderly conduct? It’s all over the news. Snap out of it,
you fool. You’re breaking your mom’s heart.
Alexis: Fine. You want the truth, you big baby, you’re breaking my heart.
This isn’t you. Parker says you’re spiraling. We both come from families of
addicts. Don’t risk it. Talk to me. Talk to anyone. Safety net, Bridge. Please,
call me.
Three days later.
Alexis: Your mom told me what you did. How was your night in jail? I’m
here for you, but I can’t watch you do this to yourself. It’s breaking more
than my heart. It’s breaking all of me.
Two months later.
Alexis: You won’t respond to this and that’s fine. I know you’ve seen my
messages. I know you’ve gotten my voicemails. I’m sorry, but I can’t watch
you destroy yourself. I know we always promised safety nets, but I can’t be
yours anymore. You deserve more than this, Bridger Cole. I wish you’d see
that. But you’re killing yourself and you don’t care. I won’t be at any more
shows. I’m going to focus on school. Bye, Bridge. Please, use your brain and
demand more of yourself.
I shut off my phone in the greenroom. It’s our first Warped Tour and it’s
been epic. I should be celebrating this, but honestly, my head is in a constant
heavy fog, and I think I might get sick if I try to stand.
I tip back a drink of whiskey from a flask.
So much for a soft place to fall. Should’ve known she’d be gone. Like
everyone, people you care about always leave. In my head, I know I’m the
one who pushed her away. Something snapped when I saw her and that guy.
They sat close together, kissing, laughing. Like a piece of my heart is
poisoned, I shut down. I’ve stopped caring.
I ignore her. Simpler to be angry at her than admit I’m to blame.
“Hey, Bridge,” Tate leans around the doorframe, concern furrowed on his
brow. “How about we head to the hotel for drinks? Just us.”
Tate’s eyes take in the guys from another Warped Tour band called Bloody
Days. They’re metal and harsh and wild. The perfect guys to help me forget
the ache in my chest.
“Nah,” Sean Haze, the lead singer says. He slings a skinny, clammy arm
around my shoulders. “We’re just getting started with him. Stay if you want,
drummer boy.”
Tate’s jaw tightens. He gives me a pleading look, but I turn away.
“Right,” Tate says. “We’ll be at the hotel if you need us, man. Oh, and
Bridge? Alexis called me. I stood up for you, but I think she’s right. You’re
being a complete idiot. Your dad would hit you upside the head if he were
here.”
I close my eyes against words, against what I’m going to do. I’ve already
decided, but thoughts of my dad watching me break like this cut out my heart
and leave it to rot on the ground.
“Cole,” Sean says, holding up a plastic bag. There’s no need to guess
what’s inside. “Join us?”
I look to the empty doorway. I’m going to screw this up for Tate and
Adam, but it’s a heady pull to drown out the noise in my head. I look once
more at my phone, at her last words. She’s gone. The best way to get over
that is to forget.
I sit beside Sean as he opens the bag. Soon, I’ll be numb. I nod. “Yeah. I’m
in.”
Chapter 22
Alexis
Quinn laughs at me when I curse once I see him standing by the black car.
Talk about drawing attention to myself. It looks like I’m begging for people
to know I am associated with someone important.
“This is so unnecessary.”
“I brought Wuthering Heights. I’ll blend in.” He holds up a worn copy of
the classic.
My mouth parts. I press a hand to my chest. “I think you just stole my
heart.”
He laughs and is hardly the same gladiator he was when we first met. The
ride to the campus is quiet, but I don’t mind. Quinn is brooding, but loyal to
Bridger. In truth, that’s all I need to know about the guy to like him.
“My building is that one,” I tell the driver. “The parking lot has some two-
hour parking spots if you want to hang around. I’m sure the meeting won’t be
long.”
“I’ll come inside with you.”
“It really isn’t necessary,” I say, softly. “I’ll go straight up and—”
“Whoa!” The driver slams on the breaks, and flushes when he swears
loudly.
I don’t blame him. A guy with three cameras strapped around his shoulders
jumped right out in front of the car.
He’s not alone.
Along the sidewalk dozens of people snap photos of the car. Blood drains
from my face. They’re shouting my name. Quinn whips out a pair of aviator
sunglasses and a brimmed sun hat. Does he just carry this stuff with him?
“You have a choice, Miss Knight. We leave, or you can go out there. I’ll
cut a path.”
“They’ll eat you alive.”
He booms a throaty laugh. “I’d like to see them try. Up to you.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, cracking my knuckles. After a few breaths, I take
the sun hat. “They’re not going to mess up my meeting.”
Quinn smiles almost like he’s proud, gives me a nod, and opens the door.
He’s a miracle worker. Somehow Quinn maneuvers me against his broad
body, while at the same time splitting a path from the curb into the building.
It’s claustrophobic, loud, and I almost fall again, but Quinn holds me up like
a featherweight.
Inside the writing building, campus police block the doors. Students gape,
their day interrupted, but most look at me like they’re trying to figure out
who I am. I keep my eyes glued to the carpet.
“Where are we going?” Quinn asks.
“Second floor, office two ten.”
He moves almost gracefully now that we’re free of paparazzi. A few more
steps and he has us safe and secure in the elevator.
I slouch against the wall, fanning my face. “How does Bridger do it?”
Quinn smirks. “It took some getting used to. He still doesn’t like to be
crowded, but he’s learned to grin and bear it.”
“You know why he hates being cramped, right?”
A somber expression fills Quinn’s eyes as he nods.
“You two are close. He tells you things. I like it.”
“You tend to get close when you’re tasked with keeping someone safe. It
wouldn’t be a fun job if I hated the guy, now would it?”
The elevator opens and the floor is quiet, thankfully. A few professors
peek out the windows at the chaos below.
“Miss Knight.” Dean Valen is already waiting for me in her doorway. The
woman is stern. Thin lips, a peppery bun on the back of her head, but her
eyes sparkle a little like diamonds. “I heard you arrive.”
I swallow past the knot in my throat. Is she mad? Oh—is she going to kick
me out of the program? My fingertips tingle and I think I might get sick.
“Come in,” she says.
I glance at Quinn. He points at a chair outside the door. “Be right here.”
The office is cold inside, but the way my skin is engulfed in flames, it’s a
relief.
“Miss Knight, thank you for meeting with me. I’ll keep this brief.”
“I won’t be a bother,” I blurt out. “I know the cameras are annoying, but
please, I’ve worked so hard to make it to this point. I’ll keep my head down
and you won’t even know I’m here. I’ll come in disguise if I need to.’
“Miss Knight,” she says. “What are you talking about?”
My fingers tangle in my lap. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me to
leave the program. I know the media can be irritating.”
“Very true,” she says. “It’s caused a bit of class disruption. But I’m not
asking you to leave the program. I have two discussion points. First—” She
clears her throat. “You can speak freely here. I’m not proficient on these
social media platforms, but enough to bring me concern. This is safe in here,
Miss Knight. Are you safe?”
I blink through my stun for a few heartbeats. “I am, Dean Valen. I assure
you. I know what they say about him, but I’ve known Mr. Cole since we
were basically toddlers. He’s my total nemesis because he’s so irritating, but .
. .” A smile passes my lips. I’m not sure if I’ve ever said this out loud. “He’s
also my best friend. He’s a gentle person.”
She releases a breath and seems relieved. “I have your word?”
“Every bit of it. Besides, I have enough people in my corner that if Bridger
Cole ever did put a hand on me, he’d be history.”
“Good. Well, then, onto my next point. I need to tell you the disruption is
enough I must ask you not to attend class anymore.”
“But you said—”
She holds up a hand, silencing me. “We’ve been working with the program
instructors, and we’ve arranged for your coursework to be moved online. I
know it’s not ideal for anyone, but it’s the best solution.”
My heart is still pounding. “I’m not kicked out? Just online?”
Dean Valen nods. “If you agree to it.”
“Yes,” I say, quickly. “Yes, thank you for allowing me to stay.”
“Online can be difficult, we’re taking a bit of a chance with this. But we’re
also using it as a test run to open a fully online program with the hope of
enticing more out of state students. Welcome to being the guinea pig, Miss
Knight.”
My grin widens. “Thank you. Truly.”
“You’ll be expected to video chat once a week.”
“Done. It won’t be a problem, Dean Valen.”
She takes the time to explain a bit of the new process, gives me a new
schedule and access to the courses, then wishes me well. But not before
admitting her granddaughter has a poster of Bridger on her wall.
Like a prepared boy scout, Quinn is loaded with tickets to the home
concert during the holiday break of Perfectly Broken’s upcoming tour. I tell
Dean Valen to let her granddaughter know the show will debut some of their
new tracks. I think I basically secured myself straight A’s by the look on her
face.
Quinn takes me a new way out of the building. The driver is waiting at the
back of the campus, and we had to cut through three different buildings, but
no cameras are shoved in our faces.
I’m about ready to declare success when my phone rings. I groan at
Bryce’s name and ignore the call. But he calls back three more times in a
row.
On the fourth call I give in and shout, “Bryce, I have nothing to say to you.
Leave me alone.”
“Wait, Alexis,” he says, almost cruelly. “I think you want to talk to me.
Come meet me at our favorite place. We’ll have lunch and talk about how to
keep your boyfriend out of worse press.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come talk. I have things to show you, Lex. I think you’re really going to
want what I have. But maybe you don’t care about Cole as much as I thought.
No doubt there are plenty of places willing to buy what I’ve got.”
A chill dances down my spine. I have no idea what Bryce has, but it
sounds an awful lot like he’s threatening Bridger. And frankly, he’s going to
regret it.
I grip the phone too tightly, my face contorted in fury. “I’ll be there in
fifteen minutes.”
Chapter 23
Alexis
“I NEED TO DO this on my own,” I tell Quinn once the car pulls to the curb
outside an Italian bistro.
“No way.”
“I did survive on my own before I started rooming with Bridger, you
know.”
Quinn adjusts in his seat. The man knows how to pin someone down with a
single glance. “Miss Knight—”
“Alexis, Thor. We’re beyond formalities, don’t you think?”
He grins. “Alexis, I never accompanied Miss Prator.”
“Nadia?” My brow lifts. “Okay.”
“As in, Mr. Cole never asked me to accompany her. Not once, but he was
with the woman for nearly two years.”
“Quinn, I’m pretty sure my ex-fiancé is trying to threaten Bridger, I’m a
little flustered. You’ll need to spell out what point you’re trying to make.”
“From day one, Bridger gave me explicit instructions that your safety is
priority.”
Heat prickles on the back of my neck. “Probably because of Parker.”
Quinn shakes his head. “No. It’s not for your brother’s sake, Alexis. If you
go in there and something happens to you, I’ll be jobless.”
I grin and open the door. “A little dramatic. I’ll be fine. We’re in public,
and I promise if paparazzi burst from the eaves, I’ll call you straightaway.
Please.”
Quinn clenches a fist, but doesn’t say anything. I take it as his concession
to following me inside, and leave the car. I hug my middle and scan the area,
almost waiting for cameras to flash in my face. The walk is quiet. Nearly
empty in the afternoon heat.
I hide how my blood is raging, school my face into something flat, and
search the restaurant. At the back I catch sight of Bryce’s chestnut hair. My
jaw tightens and my insides knot hard and angry. But when the hostess
allows me to walk myself to the table, my lungs forget to breathe. Bryce isn’t
alone. He’s with my mother.
I stand like a fool five feet from the table.
My mother leans forward, whispering to Bryce. She looks exhausted. Her
hair, dyed a rusted orange color, is fading, and she’s still in her uniform from
her waitressing job. No doubt she fell asleep in it last night and woke up an
hour ago.
She glances at me and leans back in her chair. Bryce looks over his
shoulder. I take half a breath to study his features. Why did I want to marry
him? He has cold eyes, frown lines that age him, and there is something
almost unfeeling about his grin.
I know why—to forget Bridger Cole. That’s why I jumped at my logical
opportunity. I’m a fool and a coward in my own way. I refuse to be so now.
I step to the table. “What are you two doing?”
“Sit down, Alexis Marie,” Mom says.
I comply and sit in the chair, glaring at Bryce. “You said you have
something on Bridger. What more could you possibly do to hurt him that
Nadia hasn’t already done?”
“Good to see you, Lex.” Bryce ignores me and reaches his fingers for my
face, but I pull back. He flinches, but recovers quickly. “I missed you.”
“Yeah? Where’s your wife?”
Bryce shrugs. “Come on, Lex. We don’t need to hash this out right now.”
“You got married to another woman and left me on a curb, Bryce. I don’t
think you have any say in what we talk about.”
He frown, a flash of anger in his eyes. “Fine. Cami filled in some missing
pieces. Gave me what I needed in some areas. Maybe it was cold feet, but I
realize now it was a mistake.”
Is he . . . is he really saying what I think he’s saying? “Filled in pieces such
as?”
Bryce’s face heats in a splotchy red. “You behaved like you weren’t even
attracted to me, Alexis! I’m a man. I have needs.”
My mouth drops. He is saying what I think he’s saying. What a total
scumbag. Although, my mind whirls a different direction. All this time I’ve
wondered if Bryce didn’t enjoy kissing me. Maybe I was the one putting out
the stay away vibes.
The vibes I forgot about the moment I moved in with Bridger.
I’d love it if Bridger Cole never stayed away.
I cross my legs under the table, hugging my middle. Not the time to be
thinking this way. Not the time.
“We’re getting a divorce,” Bryce says glumly. “Obviously.”
“No, not obviously,” I snap. “When I get married, a divorce would not be
my instant, obvious choice, you jerk.”
“Quit with the hysterics, Alexis.” Mom glances around. “People are
staring.”
I almost laugh. There is only one person staring, but he’s trying hard not
to. He must be as stubborn as me because in a back booth, Quinn peeks over
his tattered book. He gives me a wink, then continues to read.
I face both my mom and Bryce. “What do you want?”
My mom flicks her eyes to Bryce and nods. He drums his fingers on the
table. “I’m here out of concern for your safety.”
“My safety. Right.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m really tired of
everyone treating me like I’m some delicate piece of glass. If that’s all, I’m
safe, now I’m leaving.”
“Alexis,” my mom says. Her tone is almost soft, almost kind. “Listen to
him.”
Unlike my mother, Bryce adds a touch of ice to his stare. “Lex, I’m
worried you’re rebounding with Cole in a dangerous way.”
“You were the rebound from him.” My eyes widen. I didn’t mean to say
that. I sink down in my chair.
Bryce’s face deepens to a shade of plum. Hopefully he’s digesting that
blunder. After a moment, he waves it away. “As I was saying, I care about
you. I love you and want to reconcile. You’ve always craved the stability I
can offer. You keep on this road, you’ll be forced to live the opposite. I can
make you happy, Alexis.”
I stare at him, my lips parted. Then, I turn to my mom. “How can you
actually want me to be with this guy? How can you be here, with him, after
what he did to me? I’m your daughter, mom. Why don’t you, for once, want
what’s best for me?”
She plays with a straw wrapper. “Did you ever think that is what I’m
doing? Take it from me, you want a stable life, Alexis. I don’t want you to
have anything but security and safety. That is why I’m here. Be reasonable
and don’t throw a safe life away over a mistake.”
“A mistake? Mom, what happened to you?” I say, my voice breaking.
“What happened to make you think it’s fine to settle for so little?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be stupid, Alexis. Don’t give up someone who
will be kind to you, who will care for you because of this. You’ll regret it.”
“I won’t.” I look to Bryce. “I don’t regret anything.”
Bryce glares at me. “I didn’t want to do this, Lex, but you’re not being
reasonable. I’ll say it straight—if you stay with Cole, I’m going to release the
messages and images I have.”
“Original,” I say with a bite. “Threatening me with so-called pictures.
Yeah, no one has ever thought of that.”
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 flat 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.”
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.”
Bridger’s arm stiffens around my waist, as if defending me from the past is
his first instinct.
“Stories gave me a moment to breathe,” I go on, “to live somewhere else,
and return to reality a little stronger. Anyway, I had this idea hit me at the
first concert with the fire and police. What if I could set up a non-profit
library for families of fallen first responders?”
Bridger’s hand stops on the small of my back. He’s quiet and I don’t know
if he’s thinking or trying to keep his promise not to make fun of me.
“I’ve really thought about it,” I start to defend the idea. “It could be a free
subscription for the kids of police officers, or . . . firefighters. You know
better than anyone what it’s like to lose a hero, but you had music. I can’t
send guitars to everyone, but they have those book boxes people can
subscribe to. You know, they send cool swag and a book once a month. But
what if it was free for these kids who maybe need an escape for a few hours.
“They could fill out forms on a website, like ages, reading level, and genre
preference. I haven’t figured out logistics yet, but I thought it would be cool
if they got a box every month. Something to look forward to in a difficult
time. Maybe they would return the book like a library, keep the swag. Or
maybe they’d keep everything, I haven’t worked out all the logistics.” I take a
breath. “Will you say something because you’ve gone stoic, and I don’t know
if I’ve made you get lost in bad memories, or if you hate the entire idea, or
—”
Bridger silences me with a kiss. Oh, my, does he silence me. It’s greedy,
passionate, full of voice with words he’s not saying. Who needs to talk,
though, really?
He pulls back and I’m breathless. With his knuckle, Bridger tilts my chin
up, and says, “I wish you’d thought of this when I lost my dad.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. “Really? You like it?”
“Al, it’s awesome. We could even tie it into the concerts next year. You
know, when we pull the families who’ve lost someone on stage, we could
give them information. Maybe you could be there with volunteers to help get
people signed up. We can figure it out, I’m just brainstorming.”
He keeps saying we and it spins my stomach in silk. “A year? You think
we could get it going in that time?”
“I think so. I’ll talk to Mallorie. She has connections with everyone, maybe
she’ll be able to help us figure out how to get started.” He traps my face.
“This is perfect, Al. You’re perfect, and I want to be part of this.”
I trace his bottom lip, tangle my leg a little more with his. “Bridge.”
“Yeah.”
“Five minutes is up.”
He grins a little wickedly, pulls me over him, and in another heartbeat his
mouth is mine. No mistake, I’d be content to stay there all night.
“Al,” he says after ten minutes, twenty, maybe two hours. The sun has set
and it’s dim in the house. Bridger searches my eyes. “Will you . . . will you
come on tour with me this fall?”
My eyes widen. “You want me with you?”
“When I think of being away from you, right when this is happening
between us, I can’t stand the thought. It’ll be boring for you. A lot of cities, a
lot of hotels, a lot of shows. But we’ll have some downtime to sightsee. One
stop is Florida. They have some awesome beaches.”
I lift my head and prop my chin over his chest. “You really want me
there?”
“Nope. I just said all that to be funny. Come on, who’d want their hot
girlfriend traveling the country with them?”
I pinch his chest. “Do you think we’d survive without killing each other?”
“Probably not.” Bridger draws circles up and down my neck. “But I still
wouldn’t want to tour with anyone else.”
“Okay, but may I present a problem?”
“It wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t.”
“Parker.”
Bridger’s smile fades. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about him a lot. He texted
me last night.”
He hands me his phone with the message pulled up.
Parker: Dude, do you need to be all over my sister this much? It’s
everywhere. If I didn’t know this was being directed by your manager, we’d
be having words *smiling emoji* smile more, kiss less.
AT THE FRONT OF the house there are a few offices for the security team, a
small kitchen stocked for their use, and a room where we sometimes meet as
a band to brainstorm.
Two hours after the text, Tate, Adam, and Lance sit at a conference table in
our band room. This involves our reputation as a whole group, so everyone
showed. Alexis hugs her middle and paces in the corner. I asked her not to
come, but I’d like to see anyone tell that woman to back down when, in her
mind, people she loves are threatened.
We’d called our legal team at the label to get advice. Word spread quickly,
and Pops practically cheered with glee when he learned what might happen.
A full recant after she’s dragged me through the dirt. All he’s seeing are
dollar signs, but I’m looking for vindication.
“Everyone needs to keep cool,” Tate says when silence goes on too long.
“Looking at you over there in the corner.”
“I’m fine,” Alexis says. “Why wouldn’t I be fine? This is good. It’s fine.
Do I want to pull her fake extensions out? Yes. Will I have my hands in my
pockets so I don’t claw at her eyes? Probably. But I’m fine. This is fine.”
“Hey Lex,” Adam says. “Are you sure you’re fine?”
She glares at him, but keeps pacing.
My breath catches when the door clicks and Quinn enters, a scowl on his
face.
Nadia materializes behind him, and pats his shoulder. “Thanks, Quinn.”
He grunts in response.
Nadia locks in on me right away. She pops a hip and the skin-tight skirt
rides up her thigh. With a grin, she tosses her raven wing hair off one
shoulder, but her eyes lift and her plump, red lips curve into a frown. “B, I
thought we’d be talking alone.”
“You thought wrong,” Tate snaps. “No man in his right mind would ever
be alone with you.”
She looks to me for help. There’s none to find. I gesture to the chair across
from me. “Sit down, Nadia.”
We wait as Nadia sits, her skirt hardly covering her hip when she crosses
her leg. Her eyes drink in the room until she finds Alexis. “What’s your
image fixer doing here?”
“She’s my girlfriend.”
“Whatever, B.” Nadia laughs. “I know how your people work, and I know
you two are weird childhood friends. No need for pretenses.”
“No pretenses,” I say. “Alexis is my girlfriend, but we’re not here to talk
about that. You came to recant according to your text.”
Nadia’s mouth parts and she schools her glare at me. “You’re serious?
What the heck, Bridger. I came here to clear the air with us and you’re just
now telling me you’re with her?”
“What does it matter to you?” I bite back.
“It matters because I’m different now. We’re in better places.”
She’s making little sense.
Alexis laughs with a touch of bitterness. “Amazing. You’re a piece of
work Nadia, really, you are unbelievable.” Alexis grins at me, then rolls her
eyes when I give her a bemused look. I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Alexis points at Nadia, a cruel smile on her lips. “She’s here to reconcile,
Bridge. To get back together with you.”
The idea drops like dead weight in the pit of my gut. “Is that true?”
Nadia flinches. “I think it would be good for both of us to show a unified
front.”
“What unified front? You wrote all about how I was a monster behind
closed doors. I’m curious about the steel-toed boot I threw at you. Do you
still have the scar on your eyebrow?” My eyes narrow as she shrinks in her
seat. “Because Parker does. Or tell me how I wouldn’t let you eat, so you
hoarded food. Tate? Know anything about that?”
Tate is barely holding it together, his fingers drum furiously over his legs.
Adam claps him on the shoulder, but I’m not sure if it’s for comfort or to
keep him from lunging across the table.
“In fact,” I go on, “maybe you should ask Alexis what it’s like to be boxed
in by a car, to think you’re going to be hit, all while someone laughs at you
from the driver’s seat. Funny how your story is identical to hers.”
I didn’t want to bring up the incident with one of Mama Knight’s
boyfriends. He was cruel, and Alexis spent a lot of nights curled in my bed
while Parker and I took the floor for those three months.
The way Alexis holds her chest, as if her heart might burst out, she didn’t
know.
“You listened to stories about people I love for years. You stole them and
used them and I don’t know why. I don’t understand it.”
Nadia dabs her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. She hesitates. “Do you
know how hard it is to stay relevant in fashion at my age?”
In the back of my mind, I knew she used this for a payout, but it’s still a
punch to the back of the head.
“Why recant? You’ll lose more.”
Even defeated, she manages to sit straighter and dry the few tears in her
eyes. “I have reasons. And there are conditions. For my agreement to recant, I
want you to purchase those emails about to release.”
I shoot a look at Alexis who blanches. “The emails between me and Al?”
Nadia gives me a stiff nod. “Based on your reaction, I’m going to guess
you didn’t know TMZ purchased them. They’re going to run soon. You say
things about me in them that could be . . . problematic.”
“Poor baby,” Alexis says bitterly.
Nadia glares across the room. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I know, and I don’t care. Admit it, you’re here because you don’t want the
media to know you stole prescription pills from your manager, then used
them to keep your boyfriend high so you could rob him.”
“Rob him?” Tate sits up, fists clenched on his knees.
Alexis nods and leans over the table, facing off with Nadia. “You wanted
his lifestyle, but not him. Which is probably your biggest mistake because
he’s delightful to have. Too bad when he sobered up, he found the money
trail. I’m not sure why he’s kept quiet about it, trust me, it’s been an ongoing
argument for a couple years.”
“It has,” I agree.
“You don’t know anything,” Nadia snaps.
“You think I don’t understand addiction? Girl, I lived with it every day of
my life,” Alexis says. “I get you were addicted to this dream of hitting it big
as much as Bridge was to substance. It just breaks my heart that you didn’t
care enough for him to keep him alive. I almost watched him die, Nadia!”
I reach out and touch her arm, a comfort, maybe a warning not to blow
through the roof.
Nadia pouts. “I didn’t force anyone to take anything.”
Mystery solved—the touch is to keep Al from blowing through the roof.
Alexis flinches, talking through her teeth. “You enabled him. When he
wanted to quit, you encouraged him to keep going. You didn’t shove it down
his throat, but you certainly weren’t happy about sobriety.”
“What do you know? You have one-sided information.”
“Maybe I don’t know what was in your head, but your actions with
Bridger’s money says a lot. Oh, and when you tried to slip him drugs while
he was in rehab. That was pretty low.”
“I didn’t want him to suffer!” Nadia cries. “Withdrawal is painful.”
“You wanted him high.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt. “The point is we know why you don’t want
the emails leaked.”
“Bridge you never told us any of this,” Adam says.
“Didn’t see why I needed to. She’s right about one thing—I took the drugs.
She merely supplied them.”
“And stole from you,” Alexis adds. “It’s a key point and you keep leaving
it out.”
“That, too. Happy?” I wink at her.
“Better.”
I school my attention to Nadia. “I’m not stopping the emails.”
Her face pales and she leans forward. “Why not? They don’t make you
look good, either. You talk about everything, even mention your parents’ old
drug problems. There’s a lot of personal stuff in them.”
“Yeah, and it sucks that he sold them. I was beginning to think he wasn’t
going to, but it’s exhausting always sweeping everything under the rug. If I
can survive your backlash, I’ll survive this. So, no deal there. However, I
would like to move on to you signing an agreement that you will recant the
lies in your book.”
She scoffs and wipes away another tear. “No deal, as you said. Forget it.”
“Well, hold on.” I point to the corner of the room. “The security system
has picked up this entire conversation. Isn’t that right, Quinn?”
Quinn nods his head. “Correct.”
“You can’t film me without my permission!”
“Security system,” I repeat. “Recant or it gets out. You exploited more
than me with that heap of trash, and their stories aren’t yours to tell.”
Nadia cuts me with her gaze. It’s sickening to see such hate there when
moments ago she was playing the repentant lover. How long would she
pretend to love me before she called it quits? It’s unnerving.
I reach out and take Alexis’s hand. She’s warm and fierce. She’s here
without any ultimatums or conditions.
Quinn knocks again, just in time, Enigma’s lawyer steps inside and spells
out what’s going to happen if Nadia doesn’t comply and sign the legal
agreement and a thorough NDA about this meeting.
I press a kiss to Alexis’s palm. “You’re too good for me.”
She grins and pinches her finger and thumb together. “A little.”
I laugh and tug her onto my lap.
Nadia watches, lets out a huff, but signs the agreements. What more can
she do? I’m on edge. I refuse to be duped again, refuse to allow others to take
advantage of me for a bit of cash.
With a pinched glare, Nadia drops the pen, and stands without another
word. At the door, she pauses. I wait for her to say something. Anything.
Nadia shakes her head, turns her gaze to the ground, then walks away.
I slump in the chair and grin at the ceiling. It’s over. One dark spot is done
at long last.
Alexis traps my face between her palms and kisses me, sweet and raw. For
a moment everything is right in the world.
If I’d known it wouldn’t last, I might’ve savored the moment even longer.
Chapter 28
Alexis
I HOLD A FINGER to my lips as if the dog can understand me. “Your tail is
too loud, pretty girl.”
I scratch Poppy’s ears and she only bangs her thick rope of a tail harder
against the wall. Bridger is still asleep, and after a long night with Enigma’s
legal department, Mallorie, and Tim discussing how to move forward, I want
him to keep sleeping.
Mallorie let us know the good-girl reforming a bad-boy could stop now
that Nadia is legally bound to recant what she wrote within three days.
Bridger had smirked and took my hand beneath the table.
It’s a bit of magic knowing the lies will stop. Even Bryce releasing the
emails doesn’t mar the weight that’s lifted. The only trouble—we need to talk
with Parker.
I snatch Bridger’s keys from the counter, stomach tight, as I leave to get a
few last minute things for our ‘family’ breakfast. Maybe he’s right. Parker
will be here face to face. It might be the best time to admit a line was crossed.
To admit I can’t go back over it even if I tried.
Bridger is optimistic, but I have a feeling Parker will view it as a kind of
betrayal from both of us.
It’s early enough Quinn hasn’t arrived yet, and I slip out the door before
anyone insists I take an entourage of babysitters.
Even at seven in the morning the air is dry, but with the top down in the
jeep it’s almost pleasant. Saturday farmer’s markets were a favorite of Holly
Cole, and growing up she took me whenever I asked. This one is busy
already. I think Quinn is making me paranoid because without thinking I slip
on my sunglasses and Bridger’s Kings cap.
Before the heat bakes everyone by lunchtime, people are pleasant. I greet
sellers, they smile back. Some even give free samples, or let me snort their
homemade candles too long.
At a chili stand, a woman taps my arm.
“Hi,” she says. “Sorry, but you look like the girl dating Perfectly Broken.”
My throat dries. Am I that recognizable? Until she points at my T-shirt and
I realize my stupid mistake. I wore a Perfectly Broken T-shirt. Maybe it’s not
that obvious, but it might’ve drawn a fan’s attention, then cause them to look
twice.
Bridger is always cool in these situations. If I’m going to be with him, I
need to be too. “Um, Bridger is my boyfriend, yes.”
Her face reddens and she beams. “I love Adam. He’s so talented and so
nice. He’s signed all my stuff. Want to know something cool? He personally
responded to a letter I wrote him.”
I blow out a breath of relief. She doesn’t hate me for loving on the lead
singer. “Yeah, Adam is a super nice guy.”
“Do you know him well?”
“I do. I grew up with him.”
Her eyes widen. “You knew him as a kid? I bet he always loved guitar.”
I snicker. “It took him a while to love it, actually. But he’s a natural.”
A shadow passes over her face, but on second glance it’s gone, a smile in
its place. “I’m coming to the show in a few weeks. I have floor seats. One
row away from the gate.”
“That’s awesome,” I say pleasantly and pay for the chilis. “If you give me
your name, I bet I can score a backstage pass for you.”
Tears brim in her eyes. “Really?”
Her voice breaks and I touch her arm. Bridger’s right, this feeling, making
people happy, is intoxicating.
She digs through her purse and pulls out a pen and torn piece of an
envelope. “Here it is. Adam might remember my name, but you don’t know
it, so here.”
“Great,” I say and take a step back when she invaded my space a little too
much. “Nice to meet you, Tawni. I better get going.”
She smiles at me as I fade back into the crowd. A weird encounter, but
kind of fun. I need to get used to it.
At the jeep, I glance at my watch. Two hours to go before everyone fills up
Bridger’s patio furniture. I’m excited for this breakfast. Parker plays in
Colorado this week, then after he finally has a string of home games, but the
guys will be getting ready to kickoff their fall touring by a few Vegas-based
concerts before they head to Arizona. After that, fifteen cities before the
holidays.
We might not get together again for a while, so I plan to make the most of
today.
“Hey, again.”
I jump back, startled. “Tawni?”
She grins at me, maybe three feet away. Her eyes flick to Bridger’s not-so-
inconspicuous jeep. “I’ve seen this car online.” She licks her lips. The hair
stands up on the back of my neck. Tawni isn’t looking at me, she’s drinking
in the keys in my hand. “You could take me to him. You know where he
lives.”
“Bridger doesn’t like people he doesn’t know at his house,” I say as firmly
as I can manage.
“Bridger? No, not him, I’m talking about Adam.”
“Tawni, you need to step back,” I say, holding up my hand and cursing my
independent streak.
Why didn’t I bring Quinn?
Her brow furrows. “Step back? No, I just want to see Adam. If you know
the band, you can take me to him. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each
other. It’ll be a surprise, you know. He’ll be excited.”
I take the keys between my fingers. This woman has a wild look in her
eyes. The way she talks about Adam—I read her all wrong. It’s not as if she’s
a typical fan, more like she’s obsessed with him. Becca hasn’t ever
mentioned anything like this, maybe warned me to be careful, but nothing
like this.
“I’m not taking you to Adam. You can see him at the shows, but not in his
personal space, Tawni. We all deserve privacy.”
Wrong thing to say. Her face contorts and she lunges at me. “You want
him for yourself!”
I scream and try to shove her back, but she tangles her fingers in my hair.
My heart races. The ground tilts. She’s attacking me. Seconds start to blur. I
swing at her. Scream and kick. She curses me. Declares love for Adam Stone.
Tawni takes my head between her hands. I shove against her, but it’s
followed by a blinding pain.
My brain boils in my skull. Frenzied voices surround us.
Then, everything falls into syrupy black.
Chapter 29
Bridger
I CHECK MY PHONE again. Not a word. It’s only eight, for all I know she
left twenty minutes ago, but I’m still mad at her.
I know Alexis well enough I had Quinn come in early because I knew
she’d try to sneak out to get the few things she mentioned last night. If I had
to guess, Quinn missed her by a few minutes. Now, I’m cursing my lazy self.
I should’ve been awake; I should’ve gone with her.
“You’re going to pace a track in your kitchen.” Becca grins at me and
brings in two cartons of orange juice.
“Hey, Bec,” I say and give her a side hug. “You guys are early.”
She chuckles. “You do know I’m engaged to Adam, right? The most
punctual being on the planet. What’s up with you?”
I look back at my phone. “Nothing. Al went to get some groceries and . . . I
don’t know, she hasn’t responded to my text.”
“She ducked your security detail, huh?”
I roll my eyes, mad all over again, and nod. “Yeah.”
Becca rests a hand on my shoulder. “Bridge, a word of advice. I know it’s
hard, but don’t smother her.”
“You know how crazy it can be.”
“I know, but Adam had to learn to let me breathe, too.”
“You’re saying you don’t let people know where you’re going?”
“Okay, yes, I do,” she says. “But I don’t always take a shadow with me. It
wouldn’t work between us if I felt like I couldn’t come and go as I please.”
“She can come and go,” I tell her. “It’s for right now. A lot of people are
looking at me like I’m an abusive guy and someone might try to save her or
whatever.”
“Well, then they wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Maybe not intentionally.”
Becca doesn’t argue. She knows things like this happen. Not only with us,
but we’ve heard countless stories of unintended harm done out in public. I
don’t want to be that guy who demands a check-in from his girlfriend, but
with so much spotlight on us, it’s hard not to be.
“I’ll text her,” Becca says. She types something in her phone, then smiles
at me. “Give her a few minutes before we all worry.”
My front door opens and loud voices carry into the kitchen. “You could’ve
held the elevator, Hawkins! I have my niece with me. Micah, that isn’t how
guys treat a lady, understand?”
“Way to teach female empowerment, Princess.”
Becca and I share a look. Ellie and Tate—whatever happened between
those two, they need to kiss and makeup or leave each other alone.
“Come on,” Becca says. “When is Parker coming?”
“He’s running a little late. Red eye last night, so he’s probably wired.”
“Are you guys going to talk to him?”
“Soon,” I tell her. We need to tell him the truth, but it’s one of those
conversations I also want to avoid like it’s death. Parker will need to accept
it. I love Alexis and I’m not willing to give her up simply because my best
friend has a problem with it.
We join the others in the front room. Micah lays on the floor, scratching
Poppy’s belly. She looks like Finn with olive skin and golden-brown hair, but
she has the attitude of Ellie. I give her a high-five as I walk past and laugh
when Poppy slobbers on the little girl’s face.
“Finn didn’t make it?” I ask Ellie.
“Tour prep,” she says. “Last minute touches on some of Stacia’s stuff, then
you guys will keep producers busy for the next few weeks.”
Ellie talks to me, but her eyes shoot daggers at my couch. Tate glares back
over the rim of his glass.
I let out a groan. “Would you two work it out? It’s going to start bleeding
over when we perform.”
“Whenever he’s ready to apologize for being a complete—” She glances at
her niece. “A complete jerk, then I am all ears.”
I toss my hands up. “I give up.”
Ten minutes later I stare at the food Al prepared last night. It’s covered.
Untouched. Becca looks at her phone and my heart jumps, but she meets my
gaze and shakes her head. Now, she’s worried. I can see it in the furrow of
her brow.
I’m calling her. No—someone is calling me.
“Quinn,” I answer after the first ring, hands numb. He never calls unless
there’s an issue. “What’s wrong?”
“There was a problem at the farmer’s market. Mallorie called me after a
video went online.”
“Where’s Alexis?”
“We’ve found her at Vegas Regional.”
He rambles off bits and pieces of what happened, but I’m only half
listening. My stomach drops out of me. The hospital?
I’m on the move before I take another breath.
“She has my jeep,” I shout, drawing the eyes in my house to follow my
every step.
“I’m ready with a car now.”
“Be there in five minutes.” I hang up and hurry to the door.
“Bridge,” Tate says on my heels. “What’s going on?”
“Alexis had an encounter with a fan. She’s at the hospital.” I look to Ellie.
“Parker will be here soon and he’ll lose his mind. Don’t let him drive.”
Becca stands, face pale. “I’ll stay and talk with him, then we can drive him
there.”
I nod. Parker knows Becca well. He’ll listen to her over Ellie.
I don’t bother telling Tate and Adam not to follow me, they won’t listen.
Unlike me, they do view themselves as extra brothers to Alexis Knight, and
their steps are almost as determined as mine. Almost.
In the car, Quinn catches me up with what he knows, shows me the video.
Someone at the market started filming when a stout woman approached
Alexis and started shouting about Adam.
My friend pales beside me. “That’s the lady who wrote me all those letters.
She . . . she sent me . . . pictures.”
He shudders.
“The one you had the restraining order for?” We’ve all had our share of
overzealous fans, but only Adam and I have ever had restraining orders
against people. Mine wasn’t violent, but pretty delusional.
He shakes his head. “I thought she was gross, but not aggressive. After I
proposed to Becca she started sending pictures with Bec’s head replaced with
hers. Among other things.”
I clench my jaw. The woman must’ve recognized Alexis as having a
connection to the band. Adam scrubs his face and looks like he might get
sick. “Lex stood up for me. You can hear her tell her to get lost.”
Tate scoffs. “What did you expect her to do? Give up your address?”
“Shut up,” Adam snaps back. “I didn’t mean it that way. I feel bad this is
because of me, so ease up.”
Tate grumbles his bad mood at the window and keeps his gaze there the
rest of the time. Alexis fights for her people, but this shouldn’t have
happened. This isn’t Adam’s fault, it’s mine. I should’ve been there with her.
The moment the car pulls alongside the curb, I hop out and rush to the
front desk in the ER. An orderly allows me back, but blocks Tate and Adam
to get more information. I outpace the guy, searching for the room number.
A nurse steps out when I skid to a stop. She looks startled, then
embarrassed. “Oh, uh, you’re . . . Mr. Cole.”
“Is she in there? Knight. Alexis Knight.”
The nurse smiles. “Yes. Go on in, she’s just signing discharge papers.”
I give her a rushed thank you, hardly grasping that she said discharge,
meaning Alexis is allowed to leave.
A rush of adrenaline floods my system when I step into the tiny room.
Alexis has her back to me, but I note the bandage on the side of her head.
She’s so . . . everything. I can’t form a single word.
The instant she turns around, I have her in my arms. She buries her face in
my chest, breaths shaky. I hold the back of her head, kiss her hair, her cheek,
careful to avoid the bandage. My hands frame her face as I urge her back to
crush my lips to hers.
Alexis clings to my waist. She kisses me back like it’s the first time and
last.
“I’m okay, Bridge,” she says and rests her forehead on my shoulder. “Only
a slight concussion.”
“Slight concussion! Alexis!” I swear under my breath and inspect her face.
“Look, before you get all mad at me, Cole—”
“I am mad at you. Furious,” I say and kiss her again. “But I can’t decide if
I want to shout at you or kiss you.”
“The latter, obviously.” She smiles against my mouth. “But I’m sorry. I-I-I
shouldn’t have left without, at least, telling someone where I was going.”
“Do I have a concussion? Is Alexis Knight apologizing?” She pinches my
arm, but melts into me when I pull her close again. “You should’ve told
someone, Al. I know I push this security stuff, and I don’t want to smother
you, but . . . I haven’t been that scared in a long time.”
She gently scratches between my shoulder blades, pressing kisses to my
neck. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“They . . . they told me Tawni was arrested.”
I nod, rehashing the brief explanation I got from Quinn. The woman was
taken away after bystanders jumped in to help. How long she stays will be up
to Alexis, I suppose. “She assaulted you.”
“I know. It happened so fast. I keep thinking what if it would’ve been
Becca.” Alexis’s eyes turn glassy. “Do you think this sort of thing will
happen a lot?”
My stomach sinks to my feet. Is she having second thoughts? Not that’d
I’d blame her. It can be nuts out there.
“Maybe,” I admit, praying she stays despite it all. I’d give her an entire
security detail if it made her feel better. Retired CIA? Ex-Marine? Yep. If she
wanted it, I’d find a way to make it happen. “I get if you—”
“Don’t,” she whispers.
“Don’t what?”
“You’re going to give me a backdoor away from you.” Alexis runs her
hands over my chest, shaking her head. “I’m not asking because I don’t want
to deal with it. I’m just mentally wrapping my mind around it all, so I can
make peace with having Quinn as my shadow until I die.”
I smile and rest my head to hers. “At least he’s not terrible company,
right?”
My thumb brushes her bottom lip. She grins and stands on her toes to kiss
me. The anxiety of the moment starts to fade and I get lost in her sweet scent,
her warm touch. In her.
I’m not positive how long we’re tangled up in each other before a throat
clears behind us. My heart stills, and Alexis, still flat against my chest,
stiffens.
“There aren’t any cameras in here,” Parker says, his voice low and dark.
His eyes are heavy, hair slightly on end. He’s in his Kings sweats and bears
something dangerous in his eyes when he looks at me again. “Almost looks
like you’re pawing my sister for real.”
“Park,” Alexis says. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
His jaw tightens. He doesn’t look at her. Parker doesn’t take his eyes off
me.
Alexis slowly eases from my arms and takes a step toward her brother.
“We, uh, we need to talk.”
Parker’s eyes bounce between me and Alexis, but he settles on me again.
“I asked you to look out for her, not sleep with her.”
A hot spark of anger floods my chest. “Watch it, man.”
“You both watch it.” Alexis steps between us, glaring. “Parker, listen, we
didn’t plan for this to happen—”
“Maybe you didn’t,” Parker snaps. “But I want to know how long he’s
been planning it. Did you see an opportunity when I called asking for a
favor? Saw how she was vulnerable? What was it?”
My jaw tightens. “If you think I’d do that to Al, then you don’t know me.”
“I know exactly how you are.” Parker laughs bitterly and faces Alexis.
“Has he told you about life on the road? The parties, the women? Did he tell
you—”
“Seriously, Parker?” I take a deep breath before I hit him. “How many
years ago was all that?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Stop it!” Alexis shoves Parker’s shoulder. “I know everything. I’m not
meeting him for the first time here. But look at you casting stones, Mr.
NDA.”
Parker glowers, but shuts his mouth for once.
“Park, you can drop the macho act. It’s unbecoming,” Alexis goes on. “I’m
a big girl and—”
“I never should’ve left her with you,” Parker rails at me, stepping away
from his sister. “First you drag her into this ruse—”
Alexis balks. “Excuse me, I agreed . . .”
She’s drowned out. Truth be told, I’m only focused on Parker now.
Seething is more like it. He’s got a lot of nerve accusing me of taking
advantage of Alexis. He knows we argue, knows we pester each other, but he
should know by now I’d never intentionally hurt her. Ever.
“Then, you make her think she means something more to you,” Parker
barrels on.
“She does mean more to me!” The words slip out, and I clamp my mouth
shut.
“Bridge,” Alexis whispers. She wants me to open everything, say
everything.
It’s a suffocating kind of thought. To expose my heart to her when I’ve lost
her before.
Parker butts his chest with mine. “She’s getting trampled by lunatics! You
aren’t thinking of what’s best for her.”
I’m not sure he’s wrong. Not sure he’s right, but his words sink deep into
my chest.
Parker starts ticking off his fingers. “She can’t go to school, she can’t go to
the grocery store, she’s getting private emails exposed.”
“I’d never hurt her,” I say dumbly.
“Yeah, well, look around Bridger,” Parker snaps. “You did. I never
should’ve let her go to you.”
“Let me?” Alexis narrows her eyes. “You didn’t let me do anything, Parker
Knight. You don’t get to tell me what to do, nor who to love.”
My head spins. I want to shove Parker out of this room, get that woman in
my arms, and show her everything I haven’t said.
But the heat fades into something cold when Parker laughs. “Love? Are
you kidding me, Lex? You think he loves you like that? I mean, the kind you
want and deserve? I know Bridger better than you in this; he falls fast, but it’s
shallow. It’s a moment in time that loses appeal and I’m not going to watch
him do that to you.”
“Stop it,” she says. Her voice breaks.
“No. He doesn’t know how to have a healthy relationship, and neither do
we!”
Tell her you love her. Risk it. She’s worth all of it, the pain, the joy.
“You don’t know anything, Parker,” she says. Alexis lifts her eyes to mine,
searching, pleading for me to crack a bit of the shell. “Safety net, Bridge—do
you love me?”
How do you tell someone you don’t love them—you breathe for them?
Lyrics play in my head. I can write it, sing it, but to put into spoken words
what Alexis Knight does to me can’t be gathered in a single endearment. She
breaks me, heals me. I gave my heart to her long ago and she didn’t know it.
Now she’s holding hers in her hands for me. All I need to do is take the risk.
I lift my eyes, studying her in a new way. When I wake up in ten years, the
first thing I want to see in the dawn is her. At night, she is who I want to
hold. I want her through laughter. I want her tears to be mine to catch and
heal. She is mine. She is my whole heart.
And I’ve taken too long to respond.
Alexis recoils from me. “I get it.”
“No, Al,” I go to her, but Parker steps in front of me.
“Leave her alone, Bridger. You’ve done enough. I’m her brother and I’ll
look out for her.”
“You’re gone seven months out of the year!”
“Oh, and you can do better?” Parker scoffs and lowers his voice. “It’s not
like you’ve been clear-headed the last few years.”
I’m stunned silent, and for a moment there is a flash of something like
remorse in his eyes. We both recover into our anger quickly. “Way to take it
low, man.”
Parker’s shoulders slump and he runs a hand through his chestnut hair.
“Look, let’s call this what it is. A fling of circumstance. But it ends now, or
you and me, we’re done.”
“Ultimatums?” My lip curls in a sneer. “That’s all it takes to kick
friendship to the side, huh?”
“The way I see it, you’re the one who changed the terms when you crossed
the line. Let’s go, Alexis.”
I point my finger at him. “She’s coming home with me.”
“Good news for both of you, no one has to look out for me. I’m twenty-six,
Parker. I don’t need you to save me. And you.” Alexis glares at me. “You
don’t get to decide what I do. I’m not going home with either of you.”
“Alexis, please . . .” I reach for her, but she pulls back.
A tear drops onto her cheek as she backs into the hallway. “This is what I
was afraid of, Bridge. That you’d lose him for me. It’s not worth it.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I say. “You’re worth it.”
Alexis takes another step away. “I wanted to be, you have no idea how
much I wanted to be. But I need to be away from this. I’m not going to rob
either of you of the most important relationship you guys have. I won’t.”
It hits me in a stinging blow, like the walls of the room crumbled over the
top of me. She’s leaving. Both of us. A frenzied panic rises in my chest.
We’ve put too much out there to let it go over a stupid argument. She thinks I
value Parker’s friendship more than I value her. It’s not that, they both take
up different places in my heart.
“You have a concussion, Alexis,” Parker says, still angry by his tone.
“You’re not driving.”
Alexis closes her eyes. “You don’t get it. You don’t get to tell me what to
do.”
“Don’t go,” I say. “It doesn’t need to be this messy. I—”
“I’m walking away, Bridge, but not because it’s messy,” she whispers.
“I’ve learned that loving you has always been messy. And I was finally okay
with it. I wish you were, but I’ll be the one to go before you two make a
mistake and throw each other away.”
With that, Alexis leaves.
My initial thought is to chase after her. Parker is right, she does have a
concussion. But we both stand there, silent. Chastised and maybe a little
stunned.
“Why, Bridge? Out of everyone, why her?”
I drop my gaze to the floor. “There never was anyone else. It’s always
been her.”
He’s quiet. And I think for the first time since he showed up, Parker listens
to me.
Chapter 30
Bridger
MY HOUSE IS TOO quiet. After the hospital Parker and I returned to the
waiting room separately. He left through one door, me the other. Ellie had
picked up Alexis and both have left me in the dark.
The most I’ve gotten is from Adam and Tate.
Tate: Work this out with Parker. It’s almost offseason. You two will ruin
Call of Duty nights.
Me: Easier said than done when he’s being a little girl about it.
Tate: At least come to his game with us.
I frown, wanting to spew petulance more than anything. If Parker would’ve
been an adult this wouldn’t have happened. I tell Adam and Tate as much
because, yes, I go to the game. Even mad at him, I don’t miss games.
“Eh, I’m going to say this isn’t all Parker’s fault,” Tate mumbles through a
bite of his hotdog. He whoops when the Kings get an out. Seats behind home
plate are the best places to heckle a friend and see the sweat from the game.
I scoff and prop my feet on the fence. “No offense, man, but you don’t do
relationships.”
“No,” Tate says, “but I get what Lex is saying.”
“She’s talking to you?”
“She’s talking to Becca,” Adam says and tugs his hat lower when two
women up a few rows start pointing at us. “Lex wants more from you and
you didn’t give it.”
“I want to.”
“Want to what?”
I pinch my mouth. “Forget it.”
“Ah, see that’s the problem. You won’t say it,” Adam says.
“I might not know a lot, but I hear women like to make sure their man is as
committed as they are,” Tate adds with a shrug. “Just a thought.”
Adam takes one of the hot dogs we bought and unwraps the foil. “You and
Park are treating her like she’s a kid caught in the divorce.”
“We are not.” Are we? I allow my shoulders to slump as I replay bits and
pieces of the argument. “Park hit below the belt. He brought up drugs and
partying. As if she didn’t know.”
“Yeah, it was a sucker punch, but you poked him in his Achilles heel,
man.” Adam claps when the team roster is announced and Parker will be
third up to bat. “You messed with his sister.”
Tate tosses his wrapper in the trash, pulls a plastic bag of cookies out of his
pocket, and reclines in his chair. “Listen, if you want Alexis, then you need to
make sure Parker knows it. He might be seeing red right now, but if you
make Lex happy, he’ll accept it. Unless you aren’t sure what you want. In
that case, I’d fix you and Parker. You don’t want to lose him, either.”
I lean over my knees. “I’m in love with Alexis.”
The words hover there between us for a long pause. Tate and Adam hardly
seem surprised, more like they’re relieved.
“So why don’t you tell her that?” Adam says.
“I tried, but I couldn’t spit it out fast enough.” I kick the fence and scrub
my face. “I could see her song in my head, but I couldn’t say it.”
“Well, figure out how to say it,” Tate says. “You know why Parker is
really mad about it, right?”
“Because he thinks I’m using Alexis as some fling.”
“No.” Tate and Adam share a look and laugh. Tate gives my shoulder a
nudge. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Alexis. Not really.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Tate says, laughing. “Sappy talk is over. Time to be men and
watch baseball.”
I roll my eyes, tug my cap down, and face the field. Jovi Green, the starting
pitcher, ends the first half of the inning with two strike outs, then an
impressive out at home before the Diamondbacks score.
The Kings are a solid hitting team, so it’s no surprise when the first two
batters get a piece and claim two bases.
Parker takes his place at the plate. I shake my head, wanting to throw
something at him, but understanding him in the same breath.
Truth be told, I’ll miss his ugly face if he hates me for much longer.
I cup my hands around my mouth when the announcer calls Parker’s stats.
The crowd is cheering. He’s a golden boy and I take it upon myself to keep
him humble. When it’s a little quieter I let loose. “Boo, Knight! Choke up on
the bat, I’ve said this a hundred times! Boo!”
A few people around us give me dagger eyes, but I’m satisfied. There is a
moment, the briefest glance, where Parker turns over his shoulder. He knows
where we sit. I can’t see his eyes, but under the shadow of his helmet, I don’t
miss the smile.
I like to think the triple he slammed right after was all thanks to me.
Only a few stragglers remain in the stand. Mostly field crew is left and
those sweeping the steps. Tate and Adam left after the game. Part of me
wishes I could get out of here, too, but I can’t keep avoiding this.
I run my fingers over the brim of my hat, staring at the grass.
“It says a lot about you as a person for bribing the PR guy with concert
tickets to get me out here.”
I try not to smile, but it comes on its own. “You’re being such a baby I had
to stoop low.”
Parker comes around the seats and takes the one at my side. He lifts his
Kings hat and scratches his head. The field is almost fully covered by a top
shield against the Vegas sun, an innovative design really, but even with the
shade, the heat is stifling. I’m not moving, though. Not until we’ve had our
say.
“You didn’t totally suck out there,” I say.
Parker chuckles. “Thanks. Probably why they finally gave me that seventh
figure.”
“About time.” I can put down the sword for half a breath and be genuinely
happy for him. I knew his contract was up for negotiation and he’s earned it.
We fall into an uncomfortable silence. Parker shifts in his seat, I prop my
feet onto the back of the chair in front of me.
“Bridger,” he says at last. “Are we going to do this or keep pretending like
it’s not going to happen?”
My jaw pulses. I let out a nervous breath and reach into my pocket. The
paper is worn and wrinkled. I’ve read it a thousand times over the years. The
words on that paper kept me moving on darker nights. “I want you to read
this. No one else has ever seen it. Not even Tate and Adam.”
He takes it from me, gives it a brief scan, then looks back to me. “A song?”
“Read it.”
Parker gives me a pointed look, but obliges. His eyes flick back and forth
across the sheet. He reads longer than it should take for the length of song,
but I hope it’s sinking in. After a few minutes, he clears his throat and folds
the paper. When he goes quiet, I take it as my opening to start explaining.
“I wrote that the night I overdosed.” Parker lifts his gaze. My chest
tightens against what I need to say. “Did you see the title?”
He fiddles with the paper a few times, then nods. “Alexis.”
“I mean, it’s still a working title, but . . . she’s not a fling, Park.” I run my
hands over my knees and adjust a bit to face him. “I know I don’t deserve
her. I’ve made so many mistakes, but the two constants in my life are you and
her. I love you like my brother, man. But I fell in love with Alexis. She took
my heart before I ever had a record deal, before I even knew she’d taken it.
I’ve never asked for it back, Parker. And I hope it doesn’t change you and
me, but I can’t keep it from you anymore.”
Parker studies the ground. After a moment he hands the song back to me
and leans over his knees, fists to his mouth. “Protecting Alexis is one of the
few things I’ve been able to control in my life. Sometimes I take it too far, I
know I do. But I’m not blind, you know.”
“About what?”
He shakes his head. “I spent ninety percent of my days with you, man. You
think I never noticed the way you guys would fight? The way you’d look at
her when she turned away? Or how she’d look at you? I didn’t think much of
it, and didn’t think those looks would still be here after all this time.”
“Why are you so against it? You really don’t think any of us know how to
be in a healthy relationship?”
He winces, shaking his head. “I said a lot of things. Alexis has stuck with
security, but I think it’s because she’s afraid of what she feels with you. And
you, yeah, Nadia wasn’t healthy, but . . . I know it’s not like that with you
and Lex. I think I’m the one who doesn’t belong in a relationship. I didn’t
mean to put my own crap on you two.”
“But you still worry about me with Al.”
He shrugs, but doesn’t look at me.
“Parker, I know I’ve screwed up before, but I haven’t touched anything in
almost three years. And you know I’d never step out on her. I’ve never done
that. If anyone really knows me, it’s you.”
“I shouldn’t have brought any of that up. It was cruel on my part and I’m
sorry.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “And it’s not that I don’t think you’re
good enough for her. It’s simpler—maybe more selfish—than that. I didn’t
want to lose our friendship if something went wrong between you two. And
before you say it, I’m not only worried about Alexis getting hurt. Honestly,
I'm more worried for you.”
“Why?”
“Because Alexis has never opened her heart to anyone in that way and you
bare yours to those you love. Even if you don’t say it.” He points to the song
in my hand, smiling. “You’ll write it, show it by what you do. Believe it or
not, I didn’t want you falling for her when I wasn’t sure my sister would give
it back.”
Parker is worried about my heart breaking? It’s a notion I’ve never
considered. I smile and pocket the song, then punch his leg. “I’ve learned
recently, sometimes, for the right person, heartbreak is worth the risk.”
“Poetic.”
“I write songs for a living, get used to it.” I meet his eye. “No matter what
happens, you’re stuck with me, man. You’re my family. But it would be nice
to know you might be okay with me being with Alexis.”
“It’ll change things.”
“It will,” I admit. “But maybe for the better.”
He smiles and stares at the last of the field crew packing up. “Maybe. I’m
still going to be protective of her.”
“Good. Me, too.”
“And you’ve got a problem. My sister isn’t talking to you. She’s mad at us,
remember?”
It’s a swift cut to the gut. For a week she hasn’t said a word and it’s
showing in the heavy weight on my chest each morning.
“I remember.”
Parker stands, shouldering his bag, but he’s grinning. “I’ve got an idea if
you want to hear it.”
I lift a brow. “You’re going to help me win over your sister.”
“No. Win over your girl. That’s what you want, right?”
I smile and clap a hand on his back. “Yeah. That’s what I want. But just to
be sure, I haven’t slipped into a different reality or anything, right?”
A bit of the cracks heal when Parker laughs with me. As we head through
the tunnels underneath the stands to his car in the parking lot, it’s almost as if
nothing has changed between us.
“Hey, Bridge.”
“Yeah?”
A grin twists on his mouth. “If you hurt my sister, I’m going to have to kill
you.”
“Noted.” I shove his shoulder as we make our way to the car. A few Kings
fans hang around outside. They catch sight of Parker and rush him. For once
it’s nice to pull back and let him deal with signing T-shirts and body parts.
“Hey, you’re Bridger Cole,” one of the guys says and breaks from the
group.
I shove my hands in my pockets, uneasy. I never know how public
encounters are going to go anymore. “I am. How’s it going, man?”
The guy holds out his hand. With a touch of caution, I shake his. He’s still
smiling as he says, “Fight to the end.”
I freeze. “What did you say?”
“I’m sober six months now,” he says, proudly. “But it’s a struggle every
day. Ever since I read that, I keep saying those words. Fight to the end. Until
it’s not a struggle. Until the fight’s over and I win. Like you did. I just want
to say thank you.”
I blink through my stun. “Where did you hear that saying?” It’s something
I said with Alexis. Our motto during the hard days in rehab. Fight to the end,
until the battle is won.
“Those emails.” His eyes shadow. “Did you not know about them?”
“I almost forgot. I, uh, heard someone was going to leak them,” I fumble
out. “I guess I wasn’t expecting a thank you.”
He grins and steps back. “That’s shady, what your ex-girl did. Then to
learn more about how it all went down in those emails, I expect you’ll get
more apologies than anything. I didn’t know they were leaked, that sucks,
too, but you ought to know they’re helping me. Knowing you went through it
and survived, I feel like I can.”
I clear the knot from my throat, wish him luck on his recovery, and tell him
to come to the last First Responder show next week. Lately, it’s rare to have
people come up who are happy to see me and Pops is going to kick me off the
label if I keep handing out backstage passes. But to see this guy’s face light
up when he tells his girlfriend, I’d hand out a hundred more.
Alexis always told me something good would come out of the struggle.
Maybe she was right.
I miss her.
She’s the first person I want to tell about this moment.
I just wish she’d respond.
Chapter 31
Alexis
#FIGHTLIKEBRIDGER
#weareallperfectlybroken
Two trending hashtags on social media. I wipe a stray tear away. Bryce’s
diabolical plan backfired.
Bridger Cole is one of the hottest topics in the entertainment world right
now. First, Nadia’s recant of her book made the internet implode. True
survivors of domestic violence have called for her to face some kind of
charge for lying. Can’t say I disagree.
But when the emails from Bryce were published on TMZ, with the picture
of me reading to Bridger, then hugging him from behind, his name went
through the roof.
Instead of backlash he’s becoming a sort of light in a storm. A glimpse at
the dark side of rock and roll. Of drugs and depression. He’s giving hope to
the hopeless.
And people sort of think we’re a fairytale.
I’ve avoided social media, but Zoey, my trusty internet lurker, keeps
sending screenshots. I reread an Instagram post she sent me. The picture is
the one of me hugging Bridger at rehab.
Oh, Britt H. If you only knew. I’m so frustrated with the man I could
scream, and so horribly in love with him I could cry. It aches.
As if he knows I’m thinking about him, my phone lights up with a string of
text messages.
Bridger: I’ve started and erased at least a dozen messages. I keep thinking
I’ll be witty. Maybe see if I can tick you off enough you’ll respond, but it
seems so shallow right now. So I just want to tell you my house still smells
like you. And I miss you.
Bridger: P.S. Poppy misses you, too.
Bridger: P.P.S. Talk to Parker. We punched it out. Cross my heart.
Bridger: P.P—who cares. I hope you come to the show tomorrow.
Because if I haven’t told you yet, I miss you. And admit it, you miss me too.
Me: *mad face emoji*
Bridger: Knew it.
I groan when Parker’s name shows up on my phone. But it’s been long
enough with the silent treatment. Now the time has come to yell at him.
“Calling to remind me how to get dressed?”
He scoffs, no doubt, rolls his eyes. “Clever. Smooth. No, I’m calling you
because you didn’t come to my game and that’s annoying.”
“I don’t need to come to every game.”
“Did you watch it?”
“Maybe.”
The rustle in the background clues me in that Parker has achieved his
position of lounging on the bed to talk. “Lex, I want to fix this with us. I hate
fighting with you because you give the cold shoulder better than anyone I
know.”
I sigh, but a smile teases my mouth. “Parker, I love you, but you can’t keep
treating me like I can’t think for myself. I know I haven’t always made good
choices—Bryce for example—but you came in like a bear and threatened to
give up your best friend because he was kissing me.”
“I know,” he says, voice soft. “Would you believe me if I said I was
worried for both you and Bridger? With all of it thrown in my face I sort of
lost it.”
“Why were you worried about Bridger?”
He hesitates. “I didn’t want him to fall harder for someone and not have it
reciprocated.”
My mouth parts. “You think I don’t care about him?”
“How many times have you told me you don’t care about romance? That
you’d never go for someone who didn’t have a boring, monotonous nine to
five?”
“I don’t want monotonous, I didn’t want—”
“To be Mom? Yeah, I know. You’ve never really opened up to anyone.
But this someone is different. This is Bridger.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing tears to stay back. “I love him, Park.
And you’re wrong. I can say that, but he didn’t. I think, on this one, I fell
harder.”
“Lex.” It takes a moment for him to go on. “Go to the concert tomorrow.
Don’t shove him out because he and I got into it.”
“You want me to go to the concert after you nearly tore his head off?”
“Unlike some people, Bridger showed up at my game.”
I laugh and shake my head. “He said you two punched it out, but I didn’t
really believe it.”
“Oh, we punched it out. I know everything, Lex. About your senior prom.
The secret notes from grade school on. I know about the night he overdosed,
how hearing you were engaged pushed him over.”
I draw in a sharp breath. “He said that?”
“He told me he was already in a bad place, but hearing that took him to the
edge.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Come to the concert with me. I . . . I want to be your brother, Lex. Not
your warden. I’m sorry for what I said last week. Bridger is my best friend
for a reason. He’s the best guy I know, and the more I think about it, why
wouldn’t I want you with him?”
A bit of relief warms my belly knowing Parker is supportive, but what
good does it do if Bridger and I don’t feel the same?
“I’ll think about the concert,” I say.
“Good enough, but I hope you think hard. The guys are playing some new
stuff and you know these First Responder concerts are important to him. It’d
mean a lot if you were there.”
Stick a knife in me. I close my eyes and nod even if he can’t see me. “I’ll
think about it. Promise.”
“Okay. Love you, Lex. More than baseball.”
“Love you more than Jane.”
A star is reborn
By: Alta Harper, TMZ correspondent
Hard rock fans across the world helplessly watched the decline of lead
singer from two-time winners of Best Album, Perfectly Broken
Two months ago, in the heart of Sin City, fans went to the internet,
screaming to the world, ‘He’s back!’ In a moment of vulnerability,
notoriously private, Bridger Cole, delved into his journey to sobriety,
addressing recently leaked emails written during his months’ long stay at an
in-patient substance abuse treatment center.
Cole’s name has rocked the media from reports of his alleged abusive
behavior, to a full recant by his accuser, to his candid struggle dealing with
fame and addiction. After a two-year hiatus from releasing new material,
Perfectly Broken debuted a new single: My Reason.
Projected to top the charts when officially released, My Reason left fans
talking about more than music. They want to know the woman behind the
lyrics.
But when asked, once more, the close-lipped Cole offered little, simply
dubbing the woman fans call ‘Al’ as, “My reason.” As it turns out, the
answer was enough to break the internet with fans shipping a new
relationship for the rock superstar. Is this a rebirth? A new sound? A new
muse? Time will tell.
“Why do I need to wear a tie?” I glare at the mirror and try again to wrap
the chokehold around my neck. “I look ridiculous.”
Alexis peeks her head into my room and snickers. I’ll die happy if her
laugh is the last thing I hear in this life. She steps into my bedroom and
fingers the mess I’ve made of the black tie. “We need to look professional.”
“I do not work in an office. This is not my professional attire.”
She wrinkles her nose once the tie is even worse after she touches it and
pulls it off my neck, unbuttoning the top button of my collar. She kisses the
tattoo peeking out from my chest. “You’re right. This is more you.”
Without the distraction of choking to death, I take her in. My throat
tightens, and my hands can’t help but touch her. “Al, you look . . .” I blink
my gaze to her. The tight lavender dress, the heels she hates, the curls of her
dark hair. “Think they’ll notice if we don’t show up and stay here instead?”
She laughs and curls her arms around my waist. “Do I think one of your
best friends will notice you’re not in his wedding line? Nah, I doubt it.”
I trap her face between my palms and kiss her. Very thoroughly. To tempt
her a bit, maybe prove my point that my idea is vastly better. I pull back and
Alexis bites her bottom lip, keeping her eyes closed.
“Adam will understand.”
She snorts a laugh and tugs on my wrist. “Come on. We’ll be late.”
“He hired a band, Al. We’re a band.”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure Adam wants to hang with his friends at his wedding,
not employ them.”
I pull her against me in the elevator, trapping her with my arms, my mouth,
until the doors open and we’re a little more flushed.
“Quinn,” Alexis says, wiping her lips. “You stand at these doors at your
own risk. I’ve told you this a hundred times. You might get a show when they
open.”
Quinn lifts a brow and hands us both fresh coffees as he walks with us to
the back door. “Another option would be you two control yourselves during
the five second elevator ride.”
Alexis feigns offense. “Fire him, Bridger.”
I laugh and slip my beringed fingers into hers. “Quinn, you’re asking too
much.”
He tries to look annoyed, but he grins in his stoic way. There aren’t many
people who are happier I’m no longer sulking around my too-quiet house,
being used, and wallowing in the past than Quinn.
“This morning I had no choice but to belly up to the show,” Quinn says.
“We need to talk tour.”
“Now?” I say through a groan.
“Yes. It’s starting next week. I’ve double checked the security at all the
venues, it’s up to par.”
“And Alexis?” I ask as I hold the door open.
“She and Becca will have someone available to them twenty-four seven
through Arizona and Texas after the holidays. Then, I’ll be there from
Louisiana on.”
Alexis chuckles. “We’re going to have so much fun, Quinn. Girl talk, late
nights, mani-pedis.”
“I will lurk in the corner during all this fun, thank you very much.”
Alexis snickers and glances at me. “He’ll participate.”
“Anyway,” Quinn goes on once we’re in the garage. “I also made sure
there is WiFi on the bus for Alexis’s classes. And, finally, there is a video
meeting, set up the Monday you leave, with a nonprofit attorney to help go
through the particulars of Never Forgotten Book Boxes and how to get it off
the ground.”
“Sounds good.” I open the passenger door for Alexis, trying not to laugh as
she curses her high heels. “Thanks, man. I’d never make it if you weren’t
keeping the details straight.”
“Then consider paying me more.”
I laugh and take my place behind the wheel. “Alexis made ratatouille. It’s
in the fridge, if that helps.”
“A little.”
We pull away, expecting the few cameras in the shrubs outside the gates. I
don’t like it, but it’s part of the life, I guess.
After Nadia’s book release, I knew my secret lair wouldn’t be secret
anymore. I’d suggested moving, but Alexis convinced me to roll with the
changes. So far it hadn’t been too much of a problem. The paparazzi were
few, and no one had tried to breach the gates. If they wanted to snap pictures
of Alexis and me holding hands in my jeep, walking Poppy, bringing home
take-out, then so be it.
It was more the in public I worried about. Especially with Alexis. I bury
my disquiet most days and try to not be an overprotective paranoid boyfriend.
She carries pepper spray, sometimes Quinn will go with her places, but it’s
been a bit of a relief that most people have fallen in love with her. Same as
me. Even Mallorie has no complaints that one of the sex symbols she’s
supposed to sell declared his commitment to one woman.
The peek behind the curtain changed things.
Those emails revealed darker days, but they revealed how Al has always
been my safety net, they proved I wasn’t some beast behind closed doors.
Pops wants to kiss my feet from the uptick in sales. Most people in the public
want to take pictures with us, or tell us their own stories of overcoming. Not
hurt Al, or me, and it’s helped me relax a bit.
The wedding is private and heavily secured in the suburbs of Las Vegas. I
know I should be focused on the newlyweds, but through it all, Alexis shines.
I watch her dance with my nephew during one of the kid songs. Adam has
three siblings and a gaggle of nieces and nephews. Becca comes from a
family of six kids.
Kid dances are expected.
I take a sip of Dr. Pepper and laugh when Beau and now Micah dance with
Alexis and Tate and even Ellie. She shoots glares at Tate. He tosses them
back at her. They build tension faster than anything.
But Al—she’s perfect. She’s aggravating. She’s mine.
We bicker like always, but we add more kissing during arguments. I
thought the changes in our relationship might take some getting used to once
our romance went live, but it’s better than before. I fell in love with Alexis
Knight, and I fell hard. But it wasn’t recently. No. For over twenty years this
woman has been stealing my heart, and I can’t ever take it back.
It’s hers. Always.
“Listen, I’m supportive and all that, really can’t be happier for your two,
but could you keep the creepy stares at my sister’s backside to a minimum
around me?” Parker hits my shoulder.
I laugh and glance at him. His date—Keelie? Krista? Kasey?—I don’t
remember, keeps leaning into him with her phone, even though he’s talking
to me.
Every time I try to talk to her, she tries to get a selfie. I’ve stopped trying.
She’s doing the same with Parker. Jersey chaser, no doubt. If Parker doesn’t
care, I don’t care. But after our confessions and professions to each other, I
think he ought to try harder. He thinks he’s not good for a relationship and
keeps it shallow.
He’s running from his roots as much as Alexis did.
He’ll figure it out. Hopefully.
“When is the hearing, man?” Parker asks once date-with-a-K-name leaves
to get another drink.
“Our attorneys are meeting in a mediation next Thursday.”
Parker makes a disgusted sound. “Lucky scumbag. Bryce deserves a lot
worse than a settlement for what he did. I wish I could’ve seen his face when
they came at him with criminal charges.”
“Al wants to keep it quiet and clean. She wants to prove he can’t walk all
over her anymore, but be discreet about it.”
“I get it,” Parker says. “But he should do jailtime.”
“Even though those emails have done more good than harm?”
“Yeah. He still broke into a private account and stole something.”
I agree in a lot of ways. But I’ve left this more to Alexis. Even if I’m part
of the emails it was her account, her betrayal. I figure she deserves the last
say. “He’s been kicked out of his program and is starting to be recognized as
the snake who hurt Al. He’s getting what’s coming to him.”
Part of me wants to strangle Bryce Hall for hurting Alexis, the other wants
to sing his praises for being such an idiot. For abandoning her days before
their wedding. Without that . . . I don’t even like to think of where we’d be
now.
“So,” Parker says, one brow lifted. “You ready?”
The stupid smile breaks over my face whether I want it to or not. “Ready. I
think. If I say no will you let me live it down.”
Parker grins and crosses his ankle over his knee. “I already have the last
chat we had together to hold against you. I’ve never seen you so nervous to
talk with me.”
I hit his shoulder, but laugh with him. I’ve talked to Parker Knight
practically every day of my life, and our last conversation was no ordinary
conversation. I'd asked him a question.
A life-changing question.
Alexis grins at the stars as we walk around the pond. The park tucked a
half a mile behind my house has become a refuge of sorts for us.
She laces her fingers in mine and rests her head on my shoulder. “They
looked so happy tonight.”
I grin. Adam and Becca will be a power couple, no doubt. She accepts him,
he accepts her. They love each other. But the statement leaves a dry scratch in
the back of my throat. I promised myself I’d do this when the moment felt
right.
These moments are what I live for. Where it’s me, Al, her body close to
mine. And it’s quiet. I clear my throat and press a kiss to her forehead. “Do
you think you’ll look as happy at our wedding?”
“Nope. I plan to frown—wait. What?” Alexis meets my gaze, smirking.
She props her chin on my shoulder and fiddles with the black earring I’m
wearing. “Weddings, huh, Cole? I guess I’d need to know you wanted a
wedding with me to tell you if I’d be happy or not.”
“I want a wedding with you.”
“Oh, really? When? Tonight? Next year?”
I lick the dryness from my lips. She thinks I’m joking. Not even close. It
takes a bit of effort to unravel from each other, but Alexis’s smile fades as I
leverage out of her hold and onto one knee. Her dark eyes glisten in a burst of
tears and she covers her mouth. “Bridger. Bridger, what . . . Bridger—”
I chuckle and press a kiss to her palm. “Do you want to keep saying my
name, or can I talk?”
Alexis drags her bottom lip between her teeth. She’s not trying to be sexy,
she’s trying to be quiet. I love this woman.
“Al,” I say, embarrassed that my voice cracks. “I’ve been wanting to do
this since the concert. Don’t tell me it’s too soon—I’ve known you basically
my entire life. I know every little thing that’s going to drive me crazy, so
we’re good there.”
“You’ll drive me crazy, too, Cole. You do drive me crazy.”
“Noted,” I say. “Now can I talk, or do you want to do this?”
She smiles, trying to hide the tears in her eyes.
I dig into my pocket and pull out the delicate diamond ring. “Alexis, you
are my safety net. You are my heart, my soul, my reason. I know we don’t
see eye to eye on everything, but you’re still my best friend and you still own
every piece of me. You always will. I love you, Al. The messy, forever kind.
Will you marry me?”
Alexis doesn’t wait, she hardly looks at the ring, but I guess that’s never
mattered to her. She kisses me, showing me her answer without telling me.
She wraps her arms around my neck when she pulls back, her lips brushing
mine. “I will, Bridger Cole. I’ll marry you and I’ll love every perfectly
broken piece of you, forever.”
Hey book nerds. It's Al and the librarian inside me is squealing in pure joy
that you love books as much as I do. I think I love you. Do you know who else
I love? My good friends Ellie and Tate. There is something nutty going on
with those two and I have a feeling this upcoming tour season is going to
throw them for a loop! You can find out what those crazy cats are up to here
in Our Broken Song HERE
P.S. Em asked me if Bridger and I would stop being so private and share
those tricky emails that caused such a stir. I'm fine with it, but Bridger gets
all shy about things. He's delicious and awesome. I don't get it. Being the
kind-hearted person I am, I even shared another scene beyond the emails. A
peek into our happily ever after. Download it HERE You get it all when you
sign up for the weekly shenanigans Em sends out to the universe.
P.P.S Al! I'm going to say this once, so listen. You can share the emails
and a glimpse into what an awesome husband I am because I'm the kind-
hearted person here, and because I love you, and we need to close this down
because I'm being needy and want to kiss you now. That's all.--B
Hey, Em here. More than the sneak peek into the #brexis happily ever
after, I've also written a sizzling, steamy scene with the two lovebirds. But,
Emily, this is a sweet romance? Yes, yes it is. Let me explain. I am a reader of
both sweet and steamy and I've had several emails from readers who enjoy a
bit of heat on the pages. So welcome to my market research study. I'm
gathering emails for a potential NEW PEN NAME. This new venture, if there
is enough interest, would write fun romance with the addition of a few open
door scenes.
So, if you'd like to help me get an idea for interest level in these types of
books download Our Secret Song steamy scene--After the Show HERE
Love big,
Em