by Bria Quinlan
I tossed his phone to him and walked past.
“Bridget, please. Let's talk about this. Please.”
I could hear him walking after me. I needed this drama, this mess to end for good right now. I couldn't let it drag out. It might kill me if it did.
I stopped so fast he almost walked into me.
“Don't call me, you jackass. Lose my number. My address. My name. Don't even think about me.”
I headed across the parking lot, ready to cut through the fields to town and see if I could find a ride out to my place.
“Hey.”
I turned around to see Tanner driving up alongside me.
“You've got to be kidding me.”
“I was waiting to give you a ride home.”
I glanced back at Jake, standing where I'd left him next to his truck, arms hanging limp at his side.
“Why would I get in a truck with you?”
“Because you need a ride.”
I hated the truth of the statement. I opened the door and jumped in the cab, actually glad at that moment I hadn't set his truck on fire.
“Bridget, I just—”
I turned the radio all the way up.
He turned it down.
“Bridget—”
“Do not talk to me. Just drive me home.”
Before he could say anything else, I turned the radio all the way up again. It would serve him right if I blew out his speakers.
The irony of jumping into Tanner's truck to escape Jake was not lost on me. It was making me sick, but it wasn't lost.
Halfway back to my house, he reached for the volume knob.
I wasn't dealing with him right then. My heart was gone, left on hot asphalt of the parking lot. I swatted his hand away before he made it to the dial.
We rode the rest of the way in silence. Really, really loud silence.
As I got out at my house, he turned the truck off and followed me toward the front porch.
“Bridget—”
“No. Really. I do not need this today.” I thought about it for a millisecond. “Actually, I don't need this ever.”
“Let me explain.”
I don't know what came over me, but hearing those words twice in fifteen minutes was too much. As Tanner reached out to stop me, I swung.
Granted, there wasn't much of an impact since I barely came up to his chin and couldn’t really reach his nose, but watching him fall back a step in shock as his hand slapped over his jaw was gratifying.
“Do not talk to me. Ever.”
My mother had opened the front door, her gaze locked on Tanner behind me.
Mama waited for me on the porch, a glare coming my direction I hadn’t seen since I’d stolen Billy Mannings crayons in kindergarten. “Bridget Anja Larson.”
“He slept with Leah,” I said, cutting off the lecture.
“Good enough.” She slammed the door behind me. “Let's get some ice on that hand.”
She pushed me into a kitchen chair as we listened to the truck peel down the driveway, kicking up gravel behind it.
The ice-filled dishtowel chilled my hand immediately as she cradled them between us, holding both in place.
“So...”
That was all it took. She ran her hand over my cheek as I cried, pulling me close and offering her shoulder like she hadn’t since I was little.
“Oh, sugar. I'm sorry about Leah.”
“Not Tanner?”
“Not really.” She laughed. “I always wondered what you saw in him. I figured it was just a first boyfriend thing. There was nothing wrong with him. He was just...”
She shrugged.
“I know.”
He wasn't Jake.
Jake wasn't even Jake.
I laid my head on my arm and sobbed, wrackings that hurt my sides and made my head ache.
“Did you talk to her?”
“Kind of.”
And with that, I told Mama everything. Starting from when Daddy dropped me off until she’d seen me hit Tanner.
An hour later, my head throbbed and my heart hurt worse. This time thing wasn't working so far. So much for the it heals all wounds myth.
“I thought he was…”
“I know sweetheart.” She brushed another tear away and I knew she understood I meant Jake, not Tanner. “Look at you. I lose track of you for one weekend and you grow up.”
Smiling at her hurt a little less than crying again.
“You're going to get over this. You're going to grow past it, and one day, you're going to look back and have a little smile about the boys who pushed you into being this amazing woman with their stupidity.”
I smiled, hoping she was right. But partially not believing her.
“Bridget, you've always been stronger than you thought. You've come through far worse than this.”
She was right. I'd get through this. I wasn't sure how or when, but I'd get through it.
“Also.” She squeezed my hand and smiled. “We're going to tell your father approximately two percent of that story, and if you ever lie to me again, I'll tell him the other ninety-eight.”
Chapter Eighteen
It had been a long week. I thought I'd cried myself out on Monday with my mother, but everything seemed to make me cry.
I missed Jake like part of me was gone. And, in a way, that was true. I wouldn't be the new me without him. I wouldn't be the person who didn't have all those fences and rules.
I'd be a mess. I'd be the girl who everyone pitied. I'd be not only that Poor Larson Girl but tack on the Leah-Tanner drama, and I'd be the most pitied person in the county.
But the person I was now—the person who stood up to Leah and was comfortable in her own skin—she wouldn't exist without Jake.
I hated that.
At night, I laid in bed wondering how much of that had been a game to him. Was he playing all night? Thinking How much can I force this kindergarten teacher to do before she breaks? Or maybe, How much can I clean her up before I take her to the party?
I must have passed for him to walk me into Rayla’s house Saturday night.
But there’d been a surprise. Rayla had been a constant support.
And when I say constant, I meant my parents were going to be a little surprised when they saw the jump in texting on the next phone bill. I envisioned a new unlimited plan in our future.
The only thing I felt by Thursday was exhausted. The last of my energy slipped away at lunch as I watched across the table as Amanda's eyes went round and everyone else fell silent.
“Bridget?” Tanner stood to the side of me where I had to purposefully ignore him if I wanted him to go away. “I know how you feel about this, but could we talk for just a minute?”
My lunch just sat there, mocking me, since I wasn’t eating it anyway, so I picked up my bag and followed him out of the caf. Even the teachers watched us go, no one stopping us.
He glanced in the first empty classroom and held the door for me before pulling it shut behind us.
I sat on Mrs. Cleary's desk and waited.
“I never said I was sorry. I wanted to start with that…and also let you know I'm not trying to get you back.”
Nice opener. Nothing like hitting my ego.
“Don't get me wrong,” he continued, “I considered groveling to try get you to forgive me—even after you slugged me, which I totally deserved. But I'm guessing it wouldn’t work.”
Ya think?
He paced back and forth in front of me. I followed him, wishing he would stop moving. I was tired and nauseous from not being able to keep food down and just wanted this to be over.
He finally stopped and braced himself against the desk across from me.
“Bridget, I am sorry—so very sorry that I did that to you. When we started going out, I thought, ‘She's adorable and sweet. She's exactly the type of girl you should go out with.’ I liked being with you. You made me smile even as I didn't get a lot of stuff you did.”
I really wasn't sure wh
ere this was going.
“Actually, I wondered what you were doing with me. You never showed any interest in anyone, so when I asked you out, I expected you to say no. I couldn't believe it when you said yes. I mean, the nicest girl in the world said yes, to me.”
It was funny. I'd always been the one surprised he'd asked me out. I'd never thought about it from the other side.
Plus, for the last six days, I hadn't been feeling very nice.
“But when Leah was with us...”
All week I hadn't wanted to hear any of this. Part of me told myself I was over it. Another part said it was too painful. But now—now I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know what made me the girl you used.
“There was something about her that was just…” He stopped and searched for a word. “Indefinable. It was like you guys were two sides of a coin. Sweet and hot.”
He looked at me and shook his head. He actually laughed. I was sliding forward to hop off the desk when he said, “How I thought you weren't hot is beyond me. I was blind. But Leah... It started with little things like brushing against each other getting in and out of the truck. There was a zing. I don't know. Then small things that were on purpose—pushing the limits but not breaking any of them.”
“When exactly did you decide to sleep with my best friend?”
“I didn't.” He tugged at his hair, a nervous move I’d noticed from the sidelines whenever his coach was giving him directions. “I just didn't make a decision not to.”
So there it was. Leah had gone after him.
“I dropped you off one night and was bringing her home since she lived so much closer to me.” He wasn’t lying. It had been my idea to not have to drive back and forth since I lived so far out. “We were laughing and talking, and then... Things went too far, and then they went further.”
“Yeah, I don't need the details.”
“It was hard because whenever I was with you, I wanted to be with you. You were cute and sweet and funny and smart, and every second I wasn't with you I was wondering what was wrong with me that I wanted Leah, too. That's not an excuse. I realize that. And I realize that I was completely in the wrong, start to finish. And I wanted to let you know that it definitely wasn't you.”
“You weren't laughing at me the whole time?” I barely heard my own voice. I didn't mean to let it slip out, but it was one of my worst fears.
“No. God, no, Bridget.” He stood and came toward me, his face etched with dark circles and lines I'd never seen there before. “Never. Actually, the guys gave me a horrible time about it and none of them like Leah for it. She's taking the brunt of this, which isn't fair to her since I was involved, too. You were…you are great. I was stupid and greedy.”
He looked past me and I was trying to piece it all together in my mind. What he was saying, what he wasn't, how he felt.
“Leah was just too much.”
“You mean she threw herself at you?”
He smiled and it was the first time I'd seen him look sad in an adult way. Like he knew things now he hadn't a week ago.
“No, sweetheart. No. It was like…it was like when you meet someone and they push you all the way through yourself. You're not sure it's a good thing, but you can't seem to stop feeling and reaching and stretching toward them and away from them at the same time.”
I hadn't realized I was crying until he focused on me again.
“Bridget, stop. I'm sorry. I didn't mean...”
“No. It's okay. I mean, it's not okay you cheated on me and made me feel horrible and made me the laughingstock—”
“No one was laughing at you.”
“That's not what it feels like.”
“Well, I promise it’s true. If it makes you feel better, I was so far from laughing I had stomachaches all the time.”
But he couldn't give Leah up, and he didn't know how to break it off with me.
“I know what you mean.”
“What? About the stomachaches?”
“No. About that person...” I stopped, the sadness rolling through me again.
“I was kind of wondering what happened with the rest of your weekend and the guy who was kissing you in the morning and getting an earful in the afternoon.”
Now I was crying in front of the last person I needed to do this with.
“Maybe you can let him fix it."”
“This isn't fixable.”
He took both my hands in his and gave them a light squeeze. “I’ve had a rough week. A week looking at how I’ve screwed up a lot of things, hurt you, and damaged your friendship with Leah. If I’ve learned anything this week, it’s that people make really stupid mistakes even when they know they’re making them. And that everything is fixable if you want it bad enough. Maybe you should figure out if you have enough forgiveness in you for that bridge you need.”
Wow.
“Anyway.” He let my hands go and stepped away. “As lame as this sounds, it was never you. I felt so lucky to have you. It was me who messed this up because...”
He shrugged, and it dawned on me that he was a bigger idiot than I'd thought, because he really didn't know why he'd messed it up.
“Thanks, you know. For letting me apologize.”
He didn't even wait for me to say it was okay or that I accepted his apology. The Tanner a week ago would have. This new Tanner just needed to apologize. He didn't need to get approval or acceptance. Just to do the right thing.
How sad that the Tanner after me was a better guy than the Tanner who had been with me.
“Tanner, have you considered that your groveling plan might have been for the wrong girl?”
He stared at me a long moment and shook his head.
“You're something else, Bridget Larson.” He pushed open the door and stopped as he stepped into the hall. “Think about that bridge, okay?”
I nodded. I wasn't sure how much forgiveness I had in me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
# # #
“Hey. I have something to say to you.”
Leah looked up, her eyes haunted. She looked like she'd dropped a dress size this week and hadn't slept in four. I wonder if I'd missed the signs of stress and guilt on her for the last month, or if she hadn't felt anything until she’d been found out.
“First, why did you do it?”
She closed her eyes and leaned back against her locker. Tears leaked out from under her lashes, and I could tell she was trying really hard not to let them flow.
“I don't know. It wasn't that I was jealous of you. It wasn't that. Or that I wanted to hurt you. It was just that the more time we spent together, the more I needed him.”
I waited. That wasn't enough. You don't cheat just because you need something. I sometimes feel like I need an iPad but you don't see me walking into a store and just taking one.
“I don't know how it started. I felt so close to him that sometimes it felt like you were the other woman.”
“I—”
“No. Wait. I know that's not right. I know it. But, I was just…I don't know, Bridget. I screwed up. Big time. I wanted it all. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted to spend time with both of you. But I wanted him for myself, too. I just thought, in one crazy moment, that I could have it all if we didn't tell anyone. That we could all have it all. That we could all be happy. And somehow, I made myself believe that. Every time I stopped believing it, I told myself it was true over and over. Until I stopped having to convince myself. And then you saw us and I felt sick and dirty and horrible.”
She stopped. But really, what else was there to say after that?
“I forgive you,” I said. “I don't know if I can be friends with you. It will be a long time coming if I ever can. But I forgive you, because there's too much hurt in me right now to keep hating you.”
She broke down. She covered her face and wept like I hadn't seen anyone weep since Christy died.
I guess she had only one thing left to say.
“Thank you.”
Chapter
Nineteen
“Bridget, it's for you. And it is none of those she- or hes-that-shall-not-be-mentioned.”
My parents seemed to be taking the harass her into happiness route. It was starting to grate on me, and it was only Thursday.
“Hey!”
I pushed my door shut and collapsed on my bed.
“Hey, Rayla. What's up?”
“You're still going to the game tomorrow, right?” The question was out before I’d even settled in to chat.
“Yup.”
“You're still going with your dad?”
“Yup.”
“You're still not going to sit with me and Jamie?”
“Nope.” Yeah, because enough hadn't happened this week that sitting with our rival's team would go really well.
Plus, I liked Friday nights. Letting my father yell at the refs and buy me a hot dog—we’d been doing that since I was five. Before everything changed and changed again. It was a tradition—a good one. Those nights had been some of my favorite parts of fall.
“Fine. You're still coming out with us to Dairy Queen after, right?”
This had been an ongoing battle all week.
Rayla had no intention of letting me not hang out.
I had no intention of hanging out anywhere near Jake Moore or his football buddies or their stupid players’ club.
She'd promised they'd be too busy drinking at whichever house was open that weekend.
“Yes. Fine. As long as you guarantee no accidental football run-ins.”
She did her typical Rayla squeal that always made me smile. She was so sunny it was hard not to smile around her.
“Jake will obviously be at the game Friday.”
I love how she had these leading statements that were really questions.
“Yup.”
“And you might, you know, run into him.”
“Not unless I took up football in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Maybe before or after the game, then.”
“You mean, are we going to stall after the game to bump into him before we go to Dairy Queen, don't you?”
“Um...”
“Rayla, I really can't deal with him this week. I've had to deal with catching my real boyfriend cheating with my best friend, confronting them, patching things up with them, forgiving them, and now practically setting them up. They'll probably get married halfway through college at this rate. Dealing with Jake is the last thing I need to add to that list.”