The Bridge to a Better Life

by Ava Miles

“You asked me to.” His heartbeat pulsed in the hand on her calf, as if coming alive through the sheer act of sustained touch.

  “Sam pretty much called me a bitch for leaving you,” she whispered.

  “He’d never do that.” His friend was brutally honest, but he wasn’t cruel.

  “Don’t be so sure. And coming from him…well, it hurt. Even if it was true. I never expected him…”

  “I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again. No one’s opinion matters to me—not my friends or your family or the press. The only one that matters is yours.” And you told me you loved me the other night.

  “I’m so confused,” she admitted softly, so softly he had to strain to hear it.

  He wasn’t confused. He knew what he wanted. But he could admit to his own weakness. “Well, I’m afraid. Being near you again, even sitting in this dirt beside you while your knee bleeds, makes me want to wrap you up and never let you go. I’m afraid you won’t let me.” Again. He left the words unsaid.

  She scooted closer, her bottom spreading dirt out like a fan behind her. Touchdown ambled to the side as she set the side of her body flush against his. His hand curved around her calf, and when she didn’t protest, he kept it there, his fingertips tingling now.

  Dropping the rag he’d given her for her knee, she laid a tentative hand on his chest. His breath seized in his lungs. She faced north, and he faced south, and even though they were positioned in opposite directions, they seemed closer than ever before.

  Her trembling hand wasn’t its usual icy cold as it trailed up his neck, but each time those wary blue eyes met his, they would flicker away. When she cupped his jaw, he let his eyes close. She was touching him again, and her caress was this side of heaven.

  Her fingertips traced his mouth next. He felt her scoot even closer, and then the briefest touch of her mouth slid across his lips.

  He knew that mouth. He’d kissed it in the light. He’d kissed it in the dark. For years, it had been the first thing he’d sought in the morning, and the first thing he’d craved when he arrived home at night. His pulse thundered as he waited for more than a mere brush. Seconds ticked by. The wind ruffled his hair, making all the hairs on his neck prickle with awareness. She conducted another pass of his lips, but nothing more. His hand fisted in the dirt, like hers had earlier. He fought the urge to grip her calf.

  God, he thought, oh God. More. Touch me more.

  The pressure increased until she was sipping at his upper lip, the corner of his mouth, the fullness of his bottom lip. He locked his muscles, afraid to move, to startle her from this precious reunion.

  “Why aren’t you kissing me back?” she asked with a catch in her throat.

  A strangled noise rose from his chest. “I’m afraid to.”

  “But why?” she whispered, her breath warm and fragrant on his skin. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

  “It is…but I want it to mean something.” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “I don’t want this to be about me taking care of you.”

  Her hand curled around his neck in benediction as her mouth kissed his chin so damn sweetly he felt tears pop into his eyes.

  “Blake. It’s not because you took care of me.” She stopped herself from saying more, but he heard the words left unsaid: It means something.

  It was the permission he’d been seeking, the opening he’d prayed she would give him. He opened his eyes.

  With her face just inches away, he could make out the fine, pale hairs on her soft cheek. His hand lifted. He watched it travel with the uncertain speed of a balloon in the air, unsure of where it was going. His fingertips finally reached for her face. He traced the curve of her delicate jaw, the line of her soft cheekbone. They traveled up, smoothing her brow.

  This time, she let her eyes close, and a sigh gusted out of her, hanging in the air between them. His exploration continued. He reacquainted himself with the beauty of her face. His thumb traced the curve of her upper lip and then the bottom. Her mouth parted, and the knowledge that she was fighting the urge to suck his finger into her mouth like she’d always enjoyed doing turned him rock hard in an instant. That would be too intimate. Some touches were tipping points to new plateaus, and right now, they needed to keep to the flats. Cresting to a higher level would be too taxing, too stressful to this new connection between them.

  His mouth settled onto hers with more pressure, and then they were kissing for real. Even though he’d kissed her thousands of times, this kiss felt like their first kiss. Filled with hesitation. Laden with unfulfilled promises. Heavy with questions. Burgeoning with hope.

  Then her mouth opened under his, and she answered one of his questions. She wanted to take things deeper. He fell under her spell. His tongue slid into her mouth slowly, another question. How far? She answered by rubbing her tongue against his. They circled and danced, and he didn’t care that his lungs were screaming for air. He never wanted this kiss to end.

  She inhaled sharply through her nose some moments later, struggling for breath, but still she didn’t pull away from their connection. Her hands cupped his face now, tracing his jaw with sweetness. The fingers he had around her calf slid up ever so slowly until he could grip her thigh.

  Her moan crossed the short distance from her mouth to his, and he felt the vibration ripple through his body, down to the very nuclei of his cells. She slanted her head to the right, and he answered her silent request. The kiss turned wetter, the passes of their tongues swifter—until this time he was the one who groaned.

  Time faded away. He lost sight of where they were, of the hard ground beneath them. All he felt was the rapid rise of her chest as she breathed into his mouth as they kissed. All he felt was the warmth of her skin, the curve of her breast against his chest.

  They kissed and they kissed and they kissed until the light behind his eyelids darkened and the mountain air cooled. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized the sun was setting. The practical side of him said they were four miles from the car, and she was hurt. Darkness would soon descend, making the dirt trail more difficult to follow.

  Another part of him wanted to gather sticks for her like the men of old used to do for their partners and build a fire for them. He could hunt down an animal to spit so they wouldn’t go hungry. And when their bellies were full, he’d make love to her by the light of the fire as the stars bore witness to their love.

  She broke the kiss first but followed up with little pecks at his mouth, all the sweeter because he could feel her pulse against him, thrumming with desire.

  “It’s getting dark,” she murmured, her voice all sensuality now.

  He hadn’t heard that voice in so long, and he had the urge to find his phone and record it so he could play it later when they returned to their separate homes, separate beds.

  He sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “I know, but I don’t want to leave.” I don’t want to lose what we just found again.

  “Neither do I, but even as tough and manly as you are, you’re no match for wolves and coyotes and everything else that goes bump in the night.”

  For her, he would have pitted himself against all of that and more. His hand stroked her thigh one last time and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her muscles twitched in response, and her legs shifted restlessly.

  “Wolves and coyotes are misunderstood. They’re not that bad.” What was he saying?

  “Well, if we had camping gear, I’d feel differently, but we need to go.” She leaned away and pushed off the ground.

  His arms came around her as he helped her stand. “How’s the knee?”

  “Fine,” she said like he expected. She always said something was fine when he knew it hurt.

  Still neither of them moved. Thorn’s Peak was a black spear in the sky now. Streaks of violet and turquoise covered the ridge. The sky above them was turning into a blanket of stars, shining like brilliant diamonds.

  Tell me this means something, he wanted to say again. Tell me you won’t s
tep back.

  They started down the trail again. Her gait wasn’t natural, so he knew her knee was hurting. Touchdown trotted along the pass ahead of them—their little sentry. Blake’s eyes adjusted to the change in the light so he could make out the edges of the trail where sage and brush began.

  As they walked, all his old fears resurfaced, and with each step, he grew more and more uncertain.

  And then he felt her fingertips brush his hand. He looked over. Even in the descending darkness, there was starlight in her eyes, the kind he used to see when they would wake at the same time in the middle of the night, as if designed, and make love.

  She suddenly tripped on the path. He grabbed ahold of her hand to keep her from falling again. When she straightened, a second passed, and then another. She didn’t let go.

  They walked through the darkness together.

  Chapter 21

  The meeting in Denver had only served to show Natalie how much her life had changed, both personally and professionally, since making the move to Dare Valley. As Natalie parked on 14th Street in Denver’s Larimar Square, she realized she hadn’t missed the city as much as she’d expected.

  Too many people lined the sidewalks, walking briskly to restaurants or coffee shops or offices. And the traffic she’d suffered through to get there in the morning…well, it had given her way too much time to obsess over the monumental shift between her and Blake last night. That kiss had been like an earthquake, breaking apart the landscape inside her, which she’d grown accustomed to seeing as smooth and flat. Now all her feelings, all her hurts seemed to be exposed to the harsh light for him to see.

  The meeting had gone well—a former client had agreed to let The Grand Mountain Hotel serve its catering needs—but her stomach had roiled the entire time. In truth, she was a little nervous about meeting her sisters for lunch. She wasn’t sure what, if anything, to tell them about Blake, but she wanted things between them to be back to normal. Lately, their interactions had been more shallow than usual, which she knew to be her fault. After all, she’d asked them not to push or press or ask questions. That wasn’t how they were with one another.

  She was heading down the sidewalk to the restaurant she’d chosen for lunch when a bulky man in a cheap gray business suit stopped in front of her and stared at her with narrowed eyes. When she tried to move past him, he snagged her arm.

  “Hey, aren’t you Blake Cunningham’s ex-wife?” he asked, his tone hostile.

  She yanked her arm away, but he stepped in front of her, forcing her to either stop or walk into him.

  “I saw you with him on Twitter this weekend,” he spat. “You cost us this coming season, bitch. I hope you’re happy.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears as other people stopped to stare.

  The man who’d hurled insults pointed at her and announced in a louder voice, “She’s the bitch who made Blake Cunningham retire.”

  A few boos echoed in her ears. She stood frozen in place—unable to respond to the onslaught with any of the witty comebacks she’d normally hurl in the face of rudeness. His insults had picked at her raw place.

  A comforting hand curled around her shoulder. “Hey, numb nuts!” Moira said to the man. “Why don’t you grow a pair and stop blaming someone for our QB retiring? I can tell you that Blake Cunningham has a big enough pair to make his own decisions, so I’ll ask you to shut your mouth, or I’ll call a police offer and have you charged for accosting a woman on the street.”

  His eyebrows rose so high they reached his receding hairline.

  “Now how about an apology?” Moira said, staring down the crowd.

  “In your dreams, bitch,” the man snarled and walked off, giving them the bird over his shoulder.

  She was embarrassed to realize she was shaking. Yes, the guy was clearly a jerk—the type she’d normally turn into mincemeat—but he’d made her realize something anew. The whole Raiders nation was suffering because of Blake’s retirement…and it was her fault.

  “Are you all right?” Moira asked, shaking her slightly to help her snap out of it.

  “What happened?” Caroline asked, breathing hard, as she rushed up the sidewalk toward them. “I heard you yelling at that nasty man, Moira, so I sprinted in my heels. Are you guys okay?”

  Her sister tossed her head back so her hair could settle down her back. “We just faced down a rabid Raiders fan, no big deal. Natalie! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, adrenaline pouring through her system. People had stopped walking on the sidewalk and were staring at them, and she couldn’t shake the fear that everyone in the vicinity was talking about them—about her.

  “Let’s get to the restaurant,” Caroline said, flanking her other side.

  With her two sisters guarding her from further harm, they walked into TAG. With its unique continental flavor, anchored in the head chef’s Hawaiian roots, it was one of her favorite restaurants, but she could barely focus as her sisters led her to one of the smaller red booths nestled against a brick wall.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” their female server said.

  “Whisky,” Moira told the woman, who was eying them with concern. “Neat. For all of us.”

  “I have to drive home,” Natalie said, trying to lock her muscles so she would stop shaking.

  “One won’t hurt you,” Caroline said, “and if you need to stay over tonight, you can crash at one of our places.”

  All the tense weeks since their fight seemed to slip away. They’d defended her so naturally—without even thinking about it. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry for what I said to you both, for how I’ve acted. That guy was right. I’m a bitch.”

  Moira grabbed her hand. “No, that guy was totally out of line.”

  The server came back with their drinks, and they all picked them up.

  “To sisters,” Caroline said.

  “To sisters,” she and Moira added, although hers was more of a mumble.

  She only sipped the liquor, but it did the job. The fire raced down her throat and cut through the remaining haze in her brain. “I can’t believe that guy,” she said aloud. Sure, people had booed her before—recently, even—but for a stranger to call her a bitch on the street? Blake would lose it if he heard. All the more reason not to tell him.

  “Have there been other incidents like this?” Caroline asked.

  She told them about Hairy’s, which caused them both to frown.

  “Yeah, we saw the pictures of you and Blake on social media. We—”

  “It looked like you had a lovely time,” Caroline said, giving a pointed glance at their sister, as if to remind her the subject was forbidden. She handed out the menus the server had set on the table.

  They both picked them up, studying them a lot more intently than needed.

  “How about we share the taco sushi to start?” Caroline suggested. “It’s ridiculous. Where else can you have ahi tuna with sushi rice served with mango salsa and guacamole?”

  “Sounds great,” Moira said, still not looking away from her menu.

  Natalie pressed her hand to her aching stomach, realizing she wasn’t hungry. No, this was hurt, the kind of belly hurt that came when a person was at odds with the people closest to them.

  The server came and took their orders. Moira chose the fish tacos, Caroline the chicken ones, while she selected the hanger steak, hoping a little protein might settle her stomach.

  Except she knew it wouldn’t. The only thing that would do that was making it right with her sisters.

  “I don’t know how to fix things between us,” she told them as they both traced the rims of the water glasses their server had brought them. “I mean, we talk, but we don’t talk.”

  Moira raised her brow in challenge, and she could almost hear what she was thinking. This is how you wanted it, Nat.

  But she didn’t want it that way anymore, so even though it was hard, she started to tell them about everything between her and Blake. How sad and lonely he sometimes
seemed and how much guilt and pressure she felt. Caroline reached for her hand when she told them about offering to cater his Once Upon A Dare guys’ weekend. Moira finally reached for her other hand when she told them about getting drunk at Hairy’s and how Blake had stayed with her after she’d put on a particularly epic Natalie Show. Her chest felt like it was enclosed by manacles by the time she reached the part about kissing him last night—and how it had made her more scared and confused than ever.

  Everyone fell silent, and the server brought their food. She could tell her sisters were scared to say anything given the way she’d shut them down before.

  “I know what I said,” she said in a low voice, mostly because her throat was as tight as her chest now. “But…well…shit…just tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Caroline nestled closer. “I would say you two are in a good place. It’s only natural to be confused, but it sounds like some things are becoming clearer.”

  Moira met her eyes. “You still want him, and you’re both taking care of each other again. You helped him with his guys’ weekend, and he helped you when you were drunk. I’d say that’s progress.”

  “That guy—the one on the street—is my worst nightmare,” she said, pushing the greens of her salad around on her plate. “I’m afraid everything he said is true. You can’t imagine how guilty I feel about him giving up football. I know this camp he’s doing is going to be incredible, but I worry about the after part.” It felt unburdening to share the thoughts she had barely even expressed to herself.

  She proceeded to tell him about her run-in with Cormack Daly at Hairy’s.

  “Wow. I don’t know what surprises me more.” Caroline popped a leftover piece of the taco sushi into her mouth. “That mom would talk to Blake for this guy or that Blake might become a high school football coach.”

  “You have to admit,” Moira said with a grin. “He’d look good on the sidelines.”

  Natalie snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, but the outfit wouldn’t entail nearly enough spandex.” Personally, she’d enjoyed seeing his legs encased in football pants.