by Sophia Gray
And Marcy. The woman had taken one look back at Kyle and assumed she knew everything. She thought he was an abusive ex back in town. She even had the gall to suggest she go to the police. And when Bridgette had tried to explain that it wasn’t exactly like that, Marcy had shut down on that front and promised to take good care of Gabby for as long as she needed her to.
That had gotten under Bridgette’s skin a little. Not only did she feel like Marcy was judging her for letting a guy like Kyle back into her life—or for associating with him in the first place—but she also resented her snap judgment of Kyle. He wasn’t perfect, sure, but he wasn’t a monster.
Not that not being a monster came anywhere close to meeting the criteria for being allowed around Gabby. The bar for that was set much higher, and he hadn’t even begun to prove he could meet her standards.
Kyle drew a deep breath. “I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “I did what I had to do. I ran to keep you safe. I didn’t come back because I didn’t want to chance involving you with Martin—“
“You stayed away. Fine. But you didn’t even try to contact me once in six fucking years. You couldn’t try to look me up, pass me a message about what had happened? Or did Martin have all the phones tapped? Oh, or maybe he controls the mail? I mean, really, don’t you fucking tell me that there was no way to get in touch. You’ve been gone for six years because you chose to stay gone. Any other excuse is pure bullshit.”
Kyle slammed his fist down on the table. “That’s not true. That’s not fucking true. I didn’t know if Martin was still looking for me—“
“You told me yourself you had guys keeping tabs on things!” Bridgette shrieked, losing her temper. “You told me the Raging Reapers kept their ears to the ground for you! You couldn’t have had one of them look for me, try to tell me that hey, you weren’t trying to be a complete dick, things just escalated and you had to skip town? Christ, you didn’t even try. What am I supposed to make of that?”
“I didn’t know if you were even here still! I figured you’d moved on. That you had better things to do than waste your life in this small town.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the point, Kyle. You didn’t know. You didn’t bother to try to find out. You just assumed and moved on with your life. And I moved on with mine. I had to struggle on my own for years. You know what it’s like to raise a little girl when you have no money, no skills, no family? When the whole town knows your sad backstory? When half of them look down their noses at you because single mothers are welfare leeches and dumb sluts who went out and made poor decisions? You weren’t here for any of that. So you couldn’t know.”
Kyle looked away, his shame becoming more and more palpable. “You’re right. I should’ve tried to get in touch, to tell you what had happened. And I don’t know what you went through. But I didn’t know you were fucking pregnant, Bridge. I didn’t know I was leaving you to raise Gabby all alone. All I knew was that Martin couldn’t find out about you. I was running for my life. I didn’t know what he was and wasn’t capable of, and I wasn’t taking chances just to get back with you. I thought the only sure thing I could do was disappear. Make a clean break, you know.”
Bridgette closed her eyes lightly. “You made your choice, and whatever the reasons you had, the end result is that you’re a stranger to our daughter. There’s no going back, no changing the years you weren’t there. The best thing you can do for her, for us, is what you’ve been promising to do for the last week. Figure out where Martin stashed his shit and give me some peace of mind, so I can sleep at night without having nightmares about some thug with a switchblade laying his hands on Gabby.”
“She is my daughter, goddamn it! Fuck the years I wasn’t there. I’ll be there now.”
Bridgette opened her eyes again and watched warily as Kyle made his way around the table toward her, cornering her. He didn’t look so furious anymore. There was a different emotion blazing in his eyes—something just as intense but less violent. He looked determined.
Kyle stopped a foot short of her. He lifted a hand to cradle her cheek—a conciliatory gesture.
She pulled back from him. “You don’t know that. You don’t know that you can commit to this, that you could even be the father she needs. You ran drugs for a living. You’re here to carry out a vendetta against a dangerous kingpin.”
“I’m here to protect you,” he retorted fiercely.
Bridgette laughed coldly at his blatant lie. “You didn’t know I was even here, you jackass! You rolled back into town with your boys because you heard Martin was sending people to snoop around. You smelled an opportunity to put him in the ground and pay him back for this.” She trailed a finger along her cheek, marking out his scar on her own face. “I don’t know who you are anymore. And you don’t know who I am. I told you before, just because we’re good in bed together doesn’t mean we’re good together.”
“You’re not even giving me a chance, Bridgette!” Falcon spat. “She’s my blood. I’d go to hell and back for her.”
“You don’t even know her!”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It’s not going to work! You don’t fit in my life anymore. You can’t.”
That seemed to hit a nerve. Kyle took her face in both his hands, this time holding her with enough strength that she couldn’t pull away. “Don’t fucking say that. You don’t know that.”
“I know I’m not going to give you a chance to walk out on me again.”
Kyle’s hands tightened around her face, almost to the point of being painful. “I’m not going to walk out again. Not ever. Especially not now.”
Bridgette shook her head against him. “How can I believe that? I have nothing to go on. Just bad memories. And things are too crazy right now for me to even think about the future, about what this hot mess is going to mean then. We shouldn’t have started down this road, not now.” She pulled his hands down.
He resisted her a little, but he didn’t use his strength to keep them there. He let her push him away and make her way around him, toward the door.
“I can’t do this anymore. Not while I’m afraid for my life and my daughter’s life. Not while my business is in shambles.”
“Bridgette,” Kyle began huskily, “you know me. You know I never meant to hurt you.”
Bridgette paused at the kitchen door. “I want to believe you didn’t, really. I want to believe you were only doing what you thought was safest, what you thought was best. But the truth is I don’t know. You ripped my heart out when you left that first time. I’m a big girl. I can take it now. I can chance it again. But Gabby is my six-year-old sweetheart, and she can’t take that kind of blow.”
Kyle moved up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and turned her into his embrace. His eyes were blazing even more brightly now. “You can’t tell me that this,” he murmured, trailing a hand down her thigh, “hasn’t meant a damned thing. I know better. Things are rough now, I know, but we’ll get us figured out. And then you’ll see that we can make this work. That I’m back for good now.”
“Kyle,” she began, trying to pull out of his arms.
He wasn’t having it, though. He dipped in and caught her mouth against his, pressing deep into her. His strong arms at her back formed an immutable brace, radiating strength and safety. The insistent force of his lips against hers, of his tongue tracing her lips—all of it was a strange mixture that was both possessive and worshiping. It was as if he was molding her to him, dominating her, and submitting to her at the same time, an impossible paradox that eroded her ability to reason.
For a moment she wanted to believe the argument that he was making with his body; it was a promise that was much more potent than all his pleas.
For a few heady seconds she was ready to give in and accept that he meant everything he said. For that small stretch of time, the feeling of his body against hers was enough to convince the primal part of her that she needed him in the same way and that she couldn’t go on without
him, not again.
But her rational half intruded during their kiss, intervening with all the arguments she’d already listed to him. She couldn’t trust him to stick around. She didn’t know if he would be good for Gabby. Things were too chaotic to figure out where they stood.
She pulled away, this time forcefully enough that Kyle knew it was more than just token resistance. He let her go, clenching his jaw against whatever he was feeling at her rejection.
Bridgette shook her head at him. “We can’t do this.”
“Bridge—“
“No, Kyle. Not now. Right now I need space. I need time with my daughter.” Bridgette readjusted the strap of her purse on her arm. She kept her gaze focused on the tiles of the kitchen floor. She couldn’t bear to look Kyle in the eye. “I’m going to go pick her up, and then we’re going home. And if you have one ounce of respect for me and what I want, if you want to show me that you’re not just a controlling asshole, you’ll leave me alone and you’ll do what you have to do. And after that, if you can show me that you can put Gabby’s needs above what you want, then maybe we can reevaluate.”
She didn’t wait for his answer. She knew this had to be done quickly, ripped off like a Band-Aid. She turned on heel and she headed to the door before he could change her mind.
“Fuck, Bridgette!” Kyle thundered after her.
She could hear his heavy footsteps behind her, though he seemed to be keeping his distance. She wasn’t running. If he’d wanted to, he could have caught up.
“You don’t get the final say in this!” he yelled. “You’re acting like a complete bitch!”
Bridgette’s hand trembled as she turned the door handle. He wasn’t following her anymore. But that didn’t mean she could slow down now.
“Fine. You know what? Fuck it,” Kyle called after her. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve her. I tried to do the right thing, and yeah, maybe I made mistakes, but, hey, guys like me don’t deserve second chances, right?”
Bridgette faltered in her conviction. Maybe she wasn’t giving him a fair chance here. Maybe she was making a snap judgment. No, she corrected herself. What she needed was to get away from everything, to clear her head. She wasn’t writing him off, just setting the bar. He’d either rise to it fall short. And if he fell short, then she and Gabby were better off without him.
She forged ahead, down the walkway to the driveway. She slid into the driver’s seat of her car and automatically hit the power locks. Not that she was afraid Kyle was going to come running down the driveway and rip the door open or something. She didn’t know why she did it, but it made her feel safer somehow, she decided.
She pulled down the driveway, giving in to the pent-up tears that had been pooling in her eyes. What the hell was she doing? She wanted to believe this was the best decision. She had to push Kyle away to protect herself and her daughter.
But what if she was wrong? What if she’d butchered a chance at a happy ending and a real family? What if Kyle was so pissed at her now that he really would move on? She didn’t know what kind of father Kyle would make. He wouldn’t be perfect, she knew, but would he really be so bad? And wouldn’t it be good for Gabby to have a father around?
There were so many questions filling her head that she was starting to get a headache. She was too broken up to even think about going over to Marcy’s. Gabby was in enough of a state as it was. Bridgette didn’t need to scare her any worse by showing up like this.
Where else could she go?
The bakery popped into her mind. She hadn’t been there in days. She could update the sign she’d tacked on the door. Let her customers—if there were any left—know the closure wasn’t going to be just a few more days, but indefinite for the time being.
It was a silly detail, and by far the least of her worries now. But it was a distraction, and she needed that now.
Kyle said they hadn’t seen anyone outside the bakery lately. If Martin had guys anywhere near there, they’d see that it was pretty well-protected. The Raging Reapers Kyle had called in to help with the search didn’t look like the kind of guys you wanted to mess with.
Besides, she reasoned, she’d just be stopping in for a second. In and out, nice and quick. Maybe it was a stupid risk. Maybe she hadn’t learned her lesson the first time.
She didn’t really care. Maybe a little adrenaline would help distract her from the ache in her chest.
Chapter 20
Bridgette
It was late enough in the evening that the street in front of her bakery was clear. There was never that much traffic in the sleepy little town, but Bridgette usually made sure to park in the far lot just in case customers would be put out by having to search for street parking.
She pulled into a parallel parking spot and jumped out of the car. Being out in front of the storefront in the fading light of dusk, the same spot where she’d been assaulted not once but twice, didn’t leave her with a good feeling. She started to have second thoughts, but she reasoned that she was just letting her own paranoia get the best of her.
She’d thought this through. In and out. It would take her a few minutes at the most. She wasn’t going to let fear rule her life, that was for sure.
She headed into the bakery, fumbling a little more than usual with the lock at the front entrance. She nearly dropped her keys in her nervousness. But she eventually managed to get the door open.
She took a moment to take stock of the place. As she suspected, it was a complete mess. The guys had moved upstairs, going through all the cases and tearing out most of the walls, even though they’d gotten it out of the guy who’d assaulted her that whatever Martin was looking for was almost certainly in the basement.
Most of the walls had been gutted and the wiring exposed. The space behind the counter had been left in a disarray, too. Half of the cabinets were open and empty, and their contents—pens, her ledger, recipe books—left scattered on the floor.
The thought of all the work that she had ahead of her threatened to overwhelm her. Looking at the destruction in her shop felt to her like peering into an open casket, like coming to terms with something that was now gone. The frustration was quickly turning to a strange kind of mourning.
Kyle wasn’t going to fix any of this. She’d been kidding herself when she let herself believe that. He’d wanted two things—to sleep with her and get his revenge. The two had just so happened to tie together neatly. And now he wanted to be a father to Gabby?
He hadn’t grown up over these past six years. Maybe he’d changed, become a little harder, a little crueler. But that didn’t mean that she could believe he’d matured. He’d been running around with those leering, drug-running bikers. He hadn’t made one modicum of effort to accommodate her needs—particularly, her business. What was to stop him from leaving her with this mess to clean up?
Maybe it was just the emotional shock of seeing the place she’d built from a foreclosed building into a nearly-thriving staple of the town torn up this way. Maybe that was driving the flood of anger and pessimism.
But looking around, it was hard for her to believe they hadn’t found whatever they were looking for, if it even existed. Maybe it really wasn’t here. Maybe this was some ruse, as she’d first suspected, to scare her back into his arms. Maybe every one of the guys who’d come after her was really in league with Kyle and his goons.
It was an awfully crazy, elaborate scheme he’d set up, if that were the case. So then again, maybe her emotions were twisting and distorting her thinking.
It didn’t matter. Now was not the time to pass judgment. She was going to give him a few more days. After that, she could file a police report and an insurance claim for the damages if she had to. Just because she couldn’t fix anything right now didn’t mean it would never be rectified.
Bridgette searched for a pen and spare piece of paper in the wreckage. She spied exactly what she was looking for in front of the register, buried underneath a small pile of binders which held her business
reports and expenses.
They’d just left her most important documents lying on the floor in a heap. Her nails dug into her palms as her hands clenched into instinctive fists. No. She would be angry later. Right now she needed to get her sign up and get out. Then…then she could drive to the park or something, take a little time to cry this all out, then pull herself together to go pick up Gabby.
She leaned over the counter and scrawled out her explanation for the bakery being closed—a “family emergency.” She thanked all her long-gone customers for their patronage, and wrote that she hoped to be back up and running soon. She signed her name with a flourish, then hunted up her tape dispenser from the catastrophe sprawled over the floor.
She affixed the sign to the glass of the front door and read it over one more time.
She hated to do this. But there was no other sound option.