by Lila Felix
It had been the pain of his past relationships that had turned him bitter. But he seemed to be letting that go these days.
I could only hope it had something to do with me.
Bridger opened the door for us, and I led the way to the hostess stand. They took us to our table and set us up with drinks and menus before anyone spoke. We were squeezed into the booth, and I took the opportunity to lean my exhausted body against Bridger’s firm muscles. It felt so good to rest on him, to soak up his strength and comfort.
We made silly small talk while we picked out our meals and then ordered. I got my usual, chicken chimichanga and a Coke. Conversation continued through chips and salsa and then the main meal came out.
“So what are your plans for the future, Bridger?” I cringed at my mom’s eagerness to get deeper with Bridger.
Although, I knew she was already charmed by him. I could see it in her eyes.
He gave me a cute sideways glance and then said, “My family’s in the smithing business. My brother is a blacksmith. He inherited the business from my dad, but he’s really taken it to the next level. I’m working on a degree in business so I can help Stockton out.”
“So you’ll run the paperwork side of the business?” my mom smiled softly at him as if she felt a little sorry for him.
And honestly, if I didn’t know Bridger and that he would do absolutely anything for his family, I would have felt bad for him too. He just wasn’t the kind of guy that should be strapped with paperwork his whole life. There was too much ruggedness too him.
“Paperwork and more. I’m trained in silversmithing. I work with mostly jewelry pieces and other, more detailed metal work.”
My entire family gave an “Oooh” and an “Awww.” I beamed next to him, just proud that he was so ambitious and that he was mine.
Ever the big brother, Colson asked, “Is there a lot of work in that? Or is it more of a dying trade?”
“Lots of work,” Bridger assured him. “In fact, Stockton can hardly keep up with it all. He has some major contracts with higher end manufacturers. Frankly, he can’t wait until I go back home and help him out.”
“So other than moving back to Constance, what else have you got planned for the future? What about my daughter?” I looked around for the nearest hole to crawl into. Bridger put a strong hand on my knee and squeezed reassuringly. He opened his mouth to give my mom a response, but she beat him to it by asking more questions in a rather embarrassingly tearful way. “Because you know, my daughter has a future. A long, long future ahead of her. But she needs someone to take care of her. If you’re serious about her, you can’t just plan your whole life without thinking about her.”
“Mom!”
Bridger slid his hand up to my thigh in a way that stalled my outrage. “I understand, Ma’am. I have no intention of excluding Tate from my future plans. Nor will I think of her future as anything other than long.”
That warmed me in a way I hadn’t expected. I didn’t really want Bridger to commit to marriage or a future with me until he knew the whole story, but I loved that he wanted to. I loved that he used the words “long” and “future” in the same sentence when talking about me.
I was definitely keeping this guy. Whether he hated me for lying to him or not.
Conversation became easy again after that. We laughed a lot during dinner and by the end of it, I could barely keep my eyes open. I wasn’t anywhere near full-strength yet and the mere act of eating had exhausted me. Throw in all the times I couldn’t stop laughing and I felt practically comatose.
My mom insisted on paying at the end of the meal and while she dealt with the check, Colson and Macey slipped out to go to the bathroom. I slumped against Bridger and laid my head down on his shoulder. I yawned and fought sleep, even though I knew the second I got in my mom’s car to go back to the dorms, I would crash.
Bridger nudged me before I could pass out on him. “Are you okay?”
“Just sleepy,” I said around a yawn.
He opened his arm up for me and I scooted into the nook of his body. He laid a super-sweet kiss on my forehead and I fought another yawn.
“You’ll let me know if I need to take you to the hospital, won’t you, Tate? You’ll tell me if you need anything?”
I struggled to find the will to look up at him. Did he already know? No, it wasn’t possible. “Why would I need to go to the hospital?”
His eyes were hard gemstones and made his expression fiercely intimidating. I tried to steady out my breathing, but it was hard to even catch it once he started staring at me like that.
He lifted a hand to run a finger over my jaw but gestured to the plate of food I’d barely touched since we got here.
“For your Celiacs or whatever. I was worried about the fried tortilla.”
I shifted uncomfortably and looked around for some sign of help. There wasn’t any. I had to come up with this one on my own.
“Thank you for thinking of me,” I whispered through a thick voice. I was thankful. I was so thankful for so many things about him.
“I’ll always think of you,” he swore.
“And I’ll always think of you.”
We waited a few more minutes for my sister and brother to come back to the table. During that time, I must have fallen asleep because I woke to Colson carrying me up the stairs to my bedroom instead of Bridger. I mumbled my complaint, but I was too tired to really put up a fight. Which was a good thing, because as soon as Colson plopped me on my bed, I thought I might slip into a coma and never wake up again.
I waved a sleepy goodbye to my family, who I would see the next day and then turned over and fell right to sleep. I promised myself I would have the talk with Bridger about my sickness first thing tomorrow. I just needed some rest first.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bridger
Despite the constant gnawing in my gut, I didn’t call or text Tate for the rest of the weekend. It killed me to hand her over to the man I’d seen before, carrying her to his truck—brother or not. I didn’t want to let her go. The only person who should be tucking her into bed at night was me.
It was selfish to feel that way. I knew that. I wanted to be selfish with Tate.
Keep her all to myself and let her sickness just float away around us.
I would take it from her if I could. I would take her place if I could, endure the treatments and the needles and everything that plagued her.
If only life were fair, she wouldn’t be sick in the first place.
I laid in bed, listening to West get ready for church. After the recent revelations, I was more than ready to get back to that ritual.
I had to go to church to pray for my girl.
West hated telling me. Not one joke was cracked. Not one perverted comment left his mouth.
He hated telling me almost as much as I loathed hearing it.
Tate deserved everything life could offer. She deserved the right to live that life—a long and happy life. She deserved to grow old and watch as her red hair slowly turned gray. She deserved grandchildren and porches.
And I wanted to be on that porch right next to her, my chair rocking in time with hers—with her frail, wrinkled hand tangled in mine.
Mostly, I was angry. I was angry at the world and angry at God for giving such a creature such a plague. I was angry at cancer itself.
Tate needed my prayers. That was the only reason I was still lying there, debating to church or not to church at all.
Not that I necessarily needed to be in a church to pray, but it always seemed to be more significant when I was. Churches, to me, were like portals. The closer you were to the portal, the more easily you were heard.
Which didn’t speak too wisely of our baptismal make-out session.
Or the way I’d thought about having a repeat session.
Every day.
“We’re gonna be late. Get up.” Even West’s demeanor had changed to a more melancholy version of himself since letting me in on
his secret. He hadn’t told a soul and had been carrying around Tate’s condition for months. I didn’t even think Tate knew that West was aware.
“I’m up.” My tone matched his. Slipping into the bathroom, I showered and brushed my teeth. I picked out a blue button down shirt and some black slacks. I’d noticed West was wearing a tie, and not wanting him to outdo me, I picked out a black tie with blue stripes, courtesy of Cami.
“Do we have time for coffee?” I prompted West. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. The truth of the matter was, I no longer knew how to treat Tate. I knew how to love her, but the love in me wanted to scoop her up and take her far away from everything until she was better.
West said this was her last week of treatment—the information gotten from his secret source. I had to make sure to be extra careful with her this week. She’d be sick and nauseated.
That was my problem. How was I supposed to take care of her properly and pretend I didn’t know she was sick at the same time?
It felt like the ultimate betrayal. Like I was the biggest hypocrite on the face of the planet.
How could I pretend not to know her secret?
How could I pretend not to care?
The guilt, above all, was eating me from the inside out.
I was no better than Jesse.
My phone began to vibrate as soon as I put it in my pocket. I held a finger up to West. “It’s Stock.”
“Hello?”
“Hey, I wanted to tell you something. Why aren’t you at church?”
I laughed. “If you thought I was at church, why did you call? Anyway, why aren’t you at church?”
“Cami was feeling a little dizzy today. I called to leave you a message. I wasn’t even going to tell you, actually.”
“What’s up?” Stock always told it straight. And the fact that he wasn’t now was kind of scaring me.
“That place—the movie set or whatever. They want you to make all the chain mail and jewelry for that new movie—the Viking one. Sent you a big check for the travel expenses and everything.”
“Holy shit! Are you serious?”
“Yeah. They want you over there in February.”
My excitement slowly fizzled away. Everything had changed since Stockton had sent in my designs and recommendation for me—everything. Now I wasn’t so sure. Hell, I wasn’t sure at all. What if I went all the way to Holland and Tate got sick again?
I’d rather give up on smithing altogether than to leave her here to fight this battle alone.
“I need to think about it, Stock.”
“Let me know, soon. These people don’t wait.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Go to church. Drag West with you.”
“I will.”
We got to church earlier than I thought. Walking in, I’d hoped to sit in the back and just have a good talking to with God. That’s what I needed a heart to heart with the Big Guy. But just my luck, the back pews were already filled with people who had the same idea. Just as I’d picked an innocent spot in the middle, West pointed to the front.
The sight of her took my breath right from my lungs. Every time I saw her, I wanted her more and more. I wanted her more than just today or tomorrow. I wanted Tate Halloway for always.
She laughed at something her brother said, a few seats down from her, and I had to still myself.
How could God create such a beauty just to wreck her with disease?
Of course, I knew there was a good chance she would be here. And most of me was elated to be able to see her earlier than I thought.
Then that little part reminded me that I was a big old liar.
I looked down to make sure my pants were still there and not a charred mess on the floor.
Tate was a little liar too.
Weren’t we a pair?
“She caught you,” West said under his breath. Tate was turned around in her chair staring at me.
I’d never get tired of her staring at me when I didn’t know it.
“Let’s go.”
Her family was still with her—all of them. As I approached, I saw that she was wearing a long white skirt and a sweater with a jacket on top. She was usually cold, but this was a side effect of the meds. She was always cold now.
I knew just the man to warm her up.
“Ma’am.” I tipped my head at her mom and said hello to Macey and Colson. “Hey, Tate.”
“I’ve been missing you.” She said as she kissed my cheek. Even her lips were cold.
“Not as much as me,” I whispered back, with a kiss to her temple. She shivered as the first hymn started up and scooted closer. I didn’t hesitate in pulling her under my arm and in turn, she snuggled against my chest.
Throughout the service, her mom continued to lean forward a little and look at the both of us. Sometimes, she’d look between us and wink or smile. But twice, she looked at my arm over Tate’s shoulder and her chin quivered, like she was about to cry.
She was worried about Tate just like I was—probably more.
No, not possible. I couldn’t imagine anyone being more worried than me, mother or not.
Before the service was over, the pastor asked that we pray for the sick. That’s when Tate’s mom lost it. She tried to hide her crying, but there was no use. Even the woman behind her was patting her back throughout the prayer session.
Our dad told us when we were little that the Bible said not to beg in our prayers.
He would’ve been disappointed in me.
Because that morning, sitting there as close to heaven as I thought we could get, I begged God to save her.
I begged Him to save her, not for me, but for her.
She could make it without me, I wasn’t foolish enough to think otherwise.
But I didn’t know if I could live in a world that didn’t carry Tate’s light.
“Dude,” West said, pointing to my face. I got up and went to the bathroom before she could see me. Ugh, I never cried—not since my parents died.
Just saying the word “died,” even to myself, made me want to throw something.
I came out of the bathroom and Tate and her mom were talking to the pastor. Tate was trying, by pulling on her mom’s dress, to make whatever conversation was happening stop. She looked like a toddler begging her mom to leave.
“Tate,” I called to her. She looked relieved to be dismissed from the conversation.
“Hey, what happened?”
“Oh, you know, I had to use the bathroom.”
“We are having lunch and then they’re leaving. Can—can I see you later? I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. Just text me when you’re ready. I mean, I don’t know if you take a nap or if you’re going to be tired. And if you decide you don’t want to—just text me.”
I sounded perfectly insane.
And her expression proved that I sounded like it too.
“What am I eighty? I don’t usually take naps, Bridger.”
“Yeah, of course not. I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Maybe you need a nap, old man.”
I laughed, but it came out sounding like a goat. “I do. Just text me.” Kissing her chastely on the lips, I left with West on my heels.
“Real smooth, Ex-Lax.”
I was sure West had outgrown that phrase. I’d been wrong.
“I’m all messed up, West. I don’t know how to act around her.”
“Well, acting like a meth-head was a strike out. I can tell you that much. Do better, man. Do better for her.”
Tate texted me after four. I asked her what her favorite takeout was and she replied that she hadn’t had Thai food in months.
Me and my damned gluten-free cupcakes.
She must’ve had a good laugh about that one or at the very least thought I was a grade-A moron.
I’d kept the button down, but changed into jeans and chucks to go see her.
She answered the door right away. She was back in that da
mned hoodie which meant she was freezing. I took in her form as she waited for me to say something.
Tate Halloway was everything that made my life good. We smiled at the same time and I hoped a part of her wanted me to be her everything too.
She shivered again and rubbed her arms.
Good thing I’d come with provisions.
“I brought two heating pads.”
She looked at the bag I carried and laughed. “Two heating pads? You are an old man.”
“Or I’m the big brother of West, who once thought he could impress some girls at a party by lifting a couch like a bench press. His back was in pretty bad shape the next day.”
“Oh, nice. I am always cold. Those should help. Thank you.”
“I know. So these are for when I’m not here.” I began taking out containers of Thai food. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”
She squirmed. “Later. It’s nothing important.”
Shrugging, I handed her the coconut shrimp despite my fear that it would make her sick. “Let’s watch a movie.”
Tate moved to get up, but I circumvented her, reaching the TV and the movies before her. “I got this. What do you want to watch?”
“Whatever. But nothing sappy. I need laughter.”
We went with the Hangover. After we had eaten, I sat on her bed and she sat between my legs with her back against my chest. She felt so right against me, like she belonged there all along. I hated to admit it, but everything I did with her had become an assessment. I hadn’t watched one single second of the movie. I laughed when she did, but only to cover up my inspection. When my arms went around her waist, I gauged how much weight she had lost. When her breath hitched, my heart stopped. When she shivered, I pulled another blanket on top of us.
When she closed her eyes and fell asleep, I kissed her neck both for the joy of the act and to check that her pulse was steady.
Not that I didn’t enjoy having her in my arms again—I did.
I was a mess.
I even counted her breaths as a soothing reminder that she was very much alive.
If she didn’t tell me tonight that she was sick and that she’d been hiding it from me, I was going to do it for her.