A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

  Her eyes fill with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Ridge.”

  “He was a good dog. Lived a good life too. I like to think he’s up there with Harold now.”

  I feel the squeeze of my hand, but by the time I look down to confirm Camila’s touch, she’s already pulled away. The loss of her aches, and I curse myself for feeling like I deserve her comfort. I lost that right long ago.

  We follow the path to another private trail with a wooden sign that reads Wake Up Time, and Camila throws me another curious glance. She’s beginning to catch on, but she hasn’t figured it out yet.

  This cabin is a little bigger, with one master bedroom, an upstairs loft with room for two beds, and a wood-burning stove downstairs.

  Not until we get to the next wooden sign, which reads Wildflowers, do the clues start to make sense. She stops as soon as she reads it and turns to me. The smile that seemed glued to her face for the first part of the tour starts to slip as emotion creeps in. “Are all your cabins named after Tom Petty songs or just the ones we’ve visited so far?”

  I smile despite the feelings suddenly swirling in my chest. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, and I want to know. “It seemed appropriate.”

  When she frowns, dread sinks in my gut.

  “How?” she asks softly, but her voice is as firm and fierce as ever. “How is any of this appropriate after all we’ve been through? You can’t go around making girls fall in love with you, grinding their hearts into dust, then doing all of this. What is this, Ridge? Some sort of romantic gesture?”

  I feel lost for words again. “No. I just—”

  “You just what?” she demands.

  “I wouldn’t have done any of this without you.” Though I don’t mean to sound so angry, I’m pissed off about what happened to us too. I may have been the one who ended things between us, but I wasn’t the one who started the war. “You inspired me. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It’s not simple, and you know that.”

  “We have a complicated history, and you hate me, I know, but that doesn’t change the imprint you left on me.”

  She crosses her arms and glares back at me. “But you ended it, Ridge. No matter your reasons, you were given a choice, and you didn’t choose me. Take some responsibility.”

  “I have!” I yell. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last ten damn years of my life? I’ve lived in my own personal hell, thanks to my decisions, but I never would have done any of it if I didn’t think you were better off. Don’t you see, Camila? Except for those few stolen moments I got to spend with you, my life was never mine. The only choices I was ever given end here. With me right here and you right there. There may not be a feud anymore with our fathers gone, but there’s still a bridge, and it still divides us. If not for the hate that once existed, then for unforgivable hurt I caused you.”

  Her eyes are red and glassy as she backs away, shaking her head. “What am I supposed to do, Ridge, huh? I was so hurt for so long. One day, all that hurt hardened into this ball of anger that never stopped growing.” Her chin quivers, and she drops her hands and balls them into fists. “I’m so mad at you, yet I want to forgive you, and I don’t even know why.”

  My heart races. Can she ever truly forgive me? I’ve had so much doubt, even when she picked me up from that jail and rode me with so much aggression that I could feel it hovering around us like an invisible cloud. Back then, I couldn’t have even attempted to ask for her forgiveness. I couldn’t explain a damn thing. But things are different now. Patrick and Harold are dead, and the only war that exists is the one that rages on between two broken hearts.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  My words shock me as much as they do her, and I can practically hear the breath expel from her parted lips.

  “What?”

  I step closer, committing to my words. “If you need to be mad at me, then be mad. But at least let me make you dinner.”

  Silence stretches between us, until she finally answers, “Okay.”

  Chapter 51

  Camila

  I strangle the steering wheel as I follow Ridge down the curvy gravel drive that leads to the main ranch house, my nerves firing off like fireworks the entire way. When I first saw him today, my heart did that fluttering thing. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans, but the way he filled them out, with his biceps stretching the fabric around his arms, and his jeans tight around his muscular ass, I’m surprised I was able to think clearly at all. Until I caught on to the significance of the fifteen different cabin names, I was doing pretty well. Now, I’m desperately trying to take control of my racing heart when his house comes into view. I feel like I’ve stepped back into my past.

  When I showed up on his steps after hearing about Harold’s death all those years ago, I was taken aback by the exterior changes to the home. The house was bigger and freshly painted, and even the roofing had changed from warped wood to metal. The crooked shutters had been removed and replaced with clean straight ones. The white window frames had changed to black. And grass surrounded the idyllic structure, as opposed to the dirt that was there before. I’d almost forgotten about the changes until now.

  Ridge parks his truck and waits for me at the bottom of the porch steps, and as I move to join him, I’m keenly aware of how strange this all should feel. I was thirteen when I met Ridge, and I never once stepped foot inside his home. After so many years of hiding our friendship and more, a nugget of fear that we’ll get caught is still in the back of my mind. But then I remind myself that we’re both adults now. The feud is over. And this isn’t a date. We’re just two old friends who are trying to move forward.

  When I approach, he reaches out, and I take his hand without even hesitating. What is wrong with me? Why does it all come so easily to me when we are anything but? Ridge has a habit of leaving me behind, and I have a habit of forgiving him without a second thought. I can’t let my heart go back to that vulnerable place. Like I told Josie when I first arrived, I’ll be cordial, but I’ll never forget.

  He pushes open the front door, releases my hand, and gestures for me to enter first. I step inside and am immediately blown away by what I see. From the shiplap walls to the natural wood flooring, to the beautiful open layout, I am filled with so many questions.

  As a child, when I looked at the ranch house from the hilltop, I imagined Ridge’s living conditions to be no better than wretched based on the outward appearance of the home. Seeing it up close is a whole other story.

  “What is going on in that crazy head of yours?” He chuckles.

  I let out an airy laugh, realizing I must look ridiculous, the way my eyes are wandering. “This is nothing like what I pictured you living in, Ridge.” I struggle to find words that won’t come out sounding offensive. “The way you used to talk about this place. The way you never wanted to be here.” I shake my head, knowing my confusion is warranted, now that I remember those conversations.

  Ridge smiles. “We have a lot of catching up to do, I see. Come. I’ll pour you a drink.”

  He leads me down the hall and into the impressive kitchen. Everything is so clean and bright, from the white cabinets, to the stainless-steel appliances, and to the long pendant lights hanging over the long marble-top island. I’m in awe.

  He pulls out a stool for me to sit at the island, and I accept with a smile. As he reaches into a cabinet, I suddenly feel my nerves take over again. I’ve never felt out of my element before, but I am aware of it now. So much has changed in the past ten years. Ridge has not only taken over Harold’s farm but also started a new venture on his own. He’s probably had a slew of girlfriends over the years. Maybe he’s even fallen in love.

  I stare at the bottle of red wine he’s holding. “Um. Do you have anything stronger?”

  He looks down at the bottle then nods before shoving it back into the cabinet. “Bourbon?”

  “Perfect.”

  As soon as he slides my drink to me, I lift it to my lips and pour
the smooth, fiery liquid down my throat. The burn is just what I need. That trail of fire leads straight to my chest, until a numbing effect takes hold.

  He watches me over the rim of his glass as he takes a swig, then he leans onto the counter across from me, seemingly amused. “Better?”

  Heat rises to my cheeks, and I’m not sure if I’m flushed from the bourbon or from his stare. “Getting there.”

  He smiles. “I have an idea.” Ridge reaches into a cabinet below him and retrieves a basket. He points at the large window above the sink behind him, where a garden of fresh produce sits. “You choose the vegetables, and I’ll make something with whatever you pick.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I bite down on my smile. “You can do that?”

  Ridge shrugs. “Do it every night. I don’t think too hard about it. I just grab what looks good and whip something up.”

  I take this as a challenge, and the gleam in his eyes shows he’s not surprised. “Okay,” I say cautiously. “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  With a quick hop off the stool, I take the basket from him, then I head out the kitchen door. It takes me a second to understand the layout of the garden. Herbs are in one plot of soil, fruits are in a second, and dark, leafy greens are in another. I walk by each plot, row by row, tempted to pluck everything I see. I manage to control myself and wind up with a basket of butternut squash, spinach, tomatoes, and a pomegranate.

  “Okay,” I say as I walk through the door to where Ridge is dicing garlic cloves. I come up beside him and place the basket on the counter. “Good luck.”

  He takes a good look at what I picked and smiles. “You went easy on me.”

  I shrug. “Whatever you come up with, I want it to be edible.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Taking a seat on the stool again, I raise my drink to my lips. “Okay, no more stalling. Tell me how I just walked into a farmhouse that belongs in a magazine.”

  He looks around then goes back to chopping the ingredients. “I think you had been away at college for three months when Harold asked me to come back to help him with the fall harvest. A lot changed after you left. Business picked up quite a bit, and I think it gave Harold a new lease on life. He gave up drinking and started spending all his off-hours doing projects around the house. And when winter came along, I started helping him. Over the years, we just kept at it. We added on to the house, updated the exterior, and totally remodeled every inch of the inside. You should have seen him, Camila. He was the happiest man.”

  I could sense the pride Ridge still feels for his father, and for that, I’m grateful they had all those years together. “I would have loved to see Harold like that.”

  Ridge nods. “He was a changed man. That’s for sure.”

  A bitter thought warps our happy moment. “I guess you were his hero for putting an end to that rivalry. If business got better, and Harold didn’t have all that nonsense hanging over his head, I can see why he would have been a changed man.” Even though you broke my heart.

  Ridge stops chopping and gazes back at me. He’s always seen straight through me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear every thought swirling through my head too. “You said something to me five years ago that I couldn’t answer then, but I can now. I know it’s too late, and nothing I could ever say or do can fix anything, but there’s no reason for me to keep this from you now.”

  I try to swallow past the lump in my throat then take another gulp of the amber fire that burns in my chest. When I set the drink down, my hand is shaking, but I nod to let him know it’s okay to continue.

  “You think I left you—left town—to end the rivalry between our fathers, and that’s only partly true. Thomas Bradshaw came to me that morning. He knew about us and said your father knew about us too. He told me that if I didn’t end things, your father would take everything from you. School tuition, the vineyard, your dreams. He forced me to make a choice—break your heart so you’d follow the path your father set for you or stay and let you forfeit everything. I couldn’t let you do that.”

  It’s like he’s just dropped a bomb that I never had time to run from. The explosion blows through me and distorts everything I once believed. “And you didn’t come to me about that?”

  “I couldn’t. If I had said anything to you, it would have just made things worse. I wasn’t about to let you risk everything for me.”

  “Ridge, we could have talked. You and I had a plan. We could have stuck to it. I was going to go to college and come back after four years to take over the vineyard, then you and I were going to be together.”

  He clenches his jaw. “You think you would have come back in four years, and your father would magically be okay with us being together? No, Camila. I might have been in denial before everything blew up in our faces, but the reality of who we were and what we couldn’t be was finally made clear. Being with me was only holding you back. And look, now you have everything you ever wanted.” He raises his glass. “Congratulations.”

  Anger burns in my chest. How dare he assume that his leaving could have done anything to benefit my life. He broke my heart. “Everything I’ve ever wanted? You’re clueless, if that’s what you think. Do you want to know the reality of what I came home to?” I hold up my pointer finger. “My parents fought constantly until they became as good as strangers.” I hold up a second finger. “My papa died.” I hold up a third finger. “The vineyard isn’t even all mine.” I hold up a fourth finger, but Ridge cuts me off.

  “Wait. What? What do you mean, the vineyard isn’t even all yours? That was the deal. You go to school, you get the vineyard, either by a transfer of ownership at the time of your choosing or by default after the death of your father. I read the terms, Camila.”

  My entire body shakes. “Right. I get whatever percentage of ownership my papa leaves me with. He left me with fifty percent. Guess who owns the other fifty percent now.”

  The fury that takes over Ridge’s expression matches what I feel. “That bastard. He lied to us both and manipulated your father.”

  I nod. “Papa never said anything to me either. I’m still digging into everything, because it makes no sense. Even if Papa agreed to sell ownership, Thomas paid him millions over the last ten years. Millions that Papa turned around and invested in the vineyard.”

  “Millions? Where would Thomas get that kind of money?”

  I shrug. “I’m trying to figure that out. I need to have majority ownership, Ridge. It’s only a matter of time before Thomas tries to take the vineyard away from me completely. I don’t know how he’ll manage it, but I can feel the threat of it looming every single day. The Bradshaws have already moved into the guest villa.”

  Ridge’s jaw tenses. “What?”

  I scan his reaction carefully. “You really didn’t know any of this? Raven never said anything to you?” I swallow. “I know you two are close.”

  His eyes lock on mine, and understanding registers on his face. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Raven has been a friend to me, yes, but that’s all.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks as I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  “What do you think we’re doing here together, Camila? I’m explaining everything I couldn’t before. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but at least you have my full transparency now.”

  “Is that what you want? My forgiveness? I’ve been back in town for months, and you haven’t even attempted to see me or talk to me.”

  “Because I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know what I did. I know what I lost. You were the only person in my entire life, other than my mother, who made me feel worthy of love, and I still broke your heart. But guess what? I broke my heart too. I can’t take back what I did, and I won’t fool myself into thinking I can.”

  I can feel my face crumble, and my heart is heavy with all the hurt I’ve been carrying around for too many years. “I hate when you do that. You make all these decisions without e
ver giving me a say. When are you going to start talking to me instead of trying to protect me? If I want to forgive you, then I will. If I want to stay mad at you, I’ll do that too.”

  He slowly blows out a breath while assessing me. “Fair enough. As much as I’ll always want to protect you, I know you’re right.”

  A moment of calm silence passes between us. We’ve taken the first step toward each other since walking away all those years ago. It feels good.

  “And for what it’s worth,” he says while holding my gaze, “I do want your forgiveness.”

  A slow smile lifts my cheeks. “Well, this is a start.” I nod to the array of chopped vegetables in front of him. “You can continue earning it by making me dinner.”

  Chapter 52

  Ridge

  Going by the guttural moan Camila expels, I think dinner is a hit. Her eyes are wide as she swallows her first bite of roasted squash, then she immediately stabs another and chews that one too. When she’s finished, she sets down her fork and drops her jaw. “Ridge Cross, you can cook?”

  I pick up a forkful of my own food and raise an eyebrow. “Apparently, I can cook very well.”

  She looks down at the colorful food spread out on her plate. “What do you call this?”

  I shrug. “You picked the ingredients. You should name it.”

  She makes a face. “What? No. You added stuff.”

  “Not much. Only goat cheese, chopped walnuts, and a honey vinaigrette.”

  She points at me like I’ve just made her point. “See. Right there. Who makes honey vinaigrette from scratch? Who even thinks of that?” She shakes her head. “You do. That’s who. You, with all these secret talents I’m just now learning.” She purses her lips. “Okay. Let’s call this meal You Wreck Me.”

  Laughter rolls through me at the Tom Petty song title. “Touché.”