Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

  And as fate would have it, my phone pings with a missed call from Prescott Jennings, the only other living soul who was there that day, more evidence of my cowardice. I thought he’d given up on me. Last time he tried to reach out was almost a year ago.

  I step into my dad’s bedroom to check on Justice and Ryder, who are trying to match up socks from the mound that's been growing in a chair for the last two months. I see they’ve dumped them onto the floor and are sitting across from each other doing their normal razz-each-other-until-someone-cracks routine.

  Ryder picks one up and sniffs it. “Are you sure these are clean?”

  It’s moments like these when I know he hasn’t totally lost his innocence.

  Justice looks up at me in the doorway. “I don't see why I have to be stuck here doing this crap.” My other half-brother is sixteen and has been in complete denial of his mother’s death. Probably because he’s got no one to confide in, and he sure as hell won’t talk to me. We butted heads right up until I left the house after high school to join the Army, and every stay I had back home. Mostly because I treated him like the tagalong he was. Now that I’m back, nothing has changed. So, we try to stay out of each other’s way. A typical Sunday for him has been hanging out at one of his punky friend's houses. I can understand his attitude. What teenager wants to be around this depressing sinkhole? But I’m not giving him an out this time.

  “All you two have done lately is jack around and that changes now.”

  “And who made you king of the shitheads?” Justice says, chucking a rolled-up sock at my head. “What about Dad?”

  “Do you see Dad around here?” I say, unfazed by his attack.

  “He's at the cemetery visiting Mom, dumb ass,” Ryder chimes in.

  “You’re the dumb ass, dumb ass.” Justice scoops up a pile of the socks and throws them at Ryder’s face, essentially covering the matches that were spread out beside Ryder.

  Ryder leans to the side and yells, “No wonder you’re a sucky quarterback.”

  Justice leaps across the mound of socks, but Ryder jumps away just in time. He gets up and hides behind me.

  Justice knows I’ll kick his skinny little ass and have done it many times, so he freezes in front of me and glares.

  I stretch my head back and look over my shoulder at Ryder. “Colton is cleaning his room. Why don’t you go help him?” I make sure to be a barrier between the two as Ryder leaves the room.

  I put my hand on Justice’s shoulder and give him a look that tells him I’m not screwing around. He’s almost as tall as me, and lanky, which is probably one of the reasons he has a great fear of getting hit on the field. This isn’t your average quarterback prima-donna shit either. He’s terrified. He’s run away or out of bounds so many times, people have taken to yelling “Yeehaw” when he does it.

  “Look, man, I need to tell you something and it’s important. It’s the reason I called a family meeting today.” He rolls his eyes but I ignore him. I know that’s the last thing he wants to be a part of. It was something we used to do before so now it’s just a painful reminder. Which is why I’m worried the others will leave me hanging. I’m not sure what options I have left to redeem this family if they do, especially if I’m the only one who gives a shit. “I know it’s a lot of pressure to put on you, but it’s time to step up and start acting like a man. You need to stop fooling around and pulling this crap with Ryder all the time. You should be setting an example for him and your cousins. They need you too.”

  His glazed over eyes tell me I lost him a few sentences back. But then he executes his famous hair flip. “I know these talks.” He sulks away so my hand falls from his shoulder. “Being a man means giving up football and working for Dad. You can forget it.”

  I understand how he feels, but at the same time, I’ve made my own sacrifices. Still, I know talking down to him will only have him shutting down. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just—”

  The doorbell rings and Justice looks toward the bedroom door with wide eyes. “That’s Turner!”

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “He said he’d help me clean to get it done faster, and then we can go throw some ball around.” His words trail away with him.

  “Dude, I told you family meeting at—” Pointless to continue, I stalk after him.

  Before he grabs the door handle, he says, “Chill, I’ll be back in time for your little tea party.”

  I clench my fists at my sides, not wanting to beat him down in front of his friend. I get the meeting means nothing to him, but if he knew why I called it, he’d understand. “You tell Turner to take his sorry ass back home,” I say, voice a strained whisper, a fist pressed against the door, holding it closed.

  “You know, we really don’t have to listen to you. This isn’t boot camp, Sarge. Just because you—”

  My narrowed eyes halt him, but I contain my frustration, knowing he’s goading me. I never expected a damn ticker tape parade coming home, but after what I’d been through…I thought maybe he’d cut me some slack. Instead, I’m always the one cutting him slack. Then an idea hits and I breathe in satisfaction because I know I’ve got him. “You don’t have to listen to me?” I hold back a grin. “I guess I’m not the guy you want to help you get your driver’s license.”

  He sighs and blinks slowly. “That’s just wrong, dude.”

  I release my hold on the door, nod, and step back. Since I don’t trust him, I wait to make sure he delivers the message to his friend. But when he opens the door, he simply stares. Then his brows rise in a way I know it’s not Turner he’s focused on. I pull the door wider and mirror the expression on Justice’s face.

  I'm stunned, not only because I'm so surprised she's here, but also because I almost didn't recognize her. Her hair is pulled back into a long ponytail, and it seems like she's wearing almost no makeup, yet her skin glows. And while her face and hair are unassuming, her body is almost intimidating. She's wearing tight jeans with a couple of layered tank tops that show off seriously toned arms.

  When I finally realize I'm gawking and being rude, I open the door all the way and say, “Mollie. Come on in.” I introduce her to my horny teenage brother and quickly tell him to go finish what he was doing. I know it should be obvious why she's here, but this is not a planned visit. I suppose that was her intention, which puts me on high alert and has my brain reeling. Horrific visions that have no chance of happening flash through my mind: Colton swinging from the chandelier like a monkey, Justice looking at “See Emma Watson Naked” sites on the Internet, Frank stumbling in drunk. Aside from the one about Colton, the rest are not entirely improbable of happening.

  “I know you weren’t expecting me,” she says, reading my first, and hopefully only, thought.

  “It's okay. I'm glad you're here.” Why did I say that?

  I shut the door and lead her a few steps away into the living room. I'm relieved this was the first room we cleaned today. I use the word “clean” loosely as I notice a Dodgers foam finger sticking half-way out of the closet along with a pile of jackets.

  “Have a seat.” I gesture to the couch so she’s faced away from the foam finger, which has been surgically transformed to give the middle finger.

  She takes the seat, perches on the edge, and gazes around the room with those intense gray eyes I’m already itching to have directed at me. “You have a nice place.”

  “Compared to what?” I sit in Gramps’s chair and cross my arms over my chest.

  Her brows meet in the middle, and she cocks her head. “Well, compared to my place it’s…homey.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” I’d always loved my home growing up so these comments don’t make sense and have to be a defense mechanism. “Sorry, I—”

  “You don’t have to explain. I’m sure you feel scrutinized. I show up here unannounced.”

  I nod. “So, you know where I live.”

  She lets out a short but hearty laugh that shows she’s comfortable i
n her own skin. And it catches me off guard, putting me at ease instead of making me feel like the idiot I am. “Yeah, that was obvious. How did you know where I live?”

  She ignores my question and takes in a breath. “Look, I’m sure you probably think I popped in here to catch you off guard... “

  “Isn’t that why?”

  “No. Well, maybe a little. But honestly, I just wanted to check on Belle, and see if there was anything I could do to help. I know I came on a little strong at the hospital, but I’m not the enemy, Logan.”

  Just like at the hospital, hearing her say my name affects me in a way I can’t comprehend. It feels so familiar and yet I know we barely knew each other in high school. But her statement is so compelling I don’t have time to process all of my emotions and reactions to this girl. “No, you were right, and I’m glad you said something. So really, you already have helped.”

  “I’m glad.” She pauses and I watch her, waiting. When she catches my gaze, her eyes dart away. “So…I thought I remembered you had an older brother.”

  “Mason.” I nod.

  “But that wasn’t him.”

  “No, Justice is my half-brother. He and Ryder, actually.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my thighs, clasping my hands together. “My dad remarried a couple years after my mom died. Mason and I were young enough so it felt like four brothers growing up but old enough we got saddled with helping…a lot.” Now I look away, suddenly feeling like I’m rambling for no reason. “But you probably don’t care about that,” I say, playfully.

  Laughter comes from down the hallway, and her attention is drawn toward it. It’s a heart-melting giggle I’ve grown accustomed to hearing but it hasn’t lost its magic.

  She turns back to me, our grins matched and our eyes connecting with shared appreciation. She seems so different from the person I barely remember, but at the same time, there’s something familiar. Close.

  She breaks the stare and stands. “I’m not sure what I expected to see when I came here, but something inside me just took over, and I ended up at your door. I should probably go.”

  “Wait.” I stand and move up closer to her, catching a whiff of something enticing coming off her. It’s flowery and kind of sweet, like standing in between an orange tree and a field of flowers as the wind blows. I have to restrain myself from leaning in to capture more of it. Most everyone around here smells like sweat or socks. Or sweaty socks. “I’m glad you came.” An extremely not awkward pause happens between us. I don’t know what she’s thinking. And even though I want her out before Dad, Frank, and Mason show up, I find myself hating the idea of her leaving. “Do you want to see Belle?”

  Her eyes light up. “I’d love to.”

  As I walk her back toward Gramps’s room, my heart races, hoping nothing will make her feel uneasy about our family. I pause at the first door, where Ryder sits on the bed and Colton appears to be inside his closet. I glare at Ryder, who was supposed to be helping his cousin clean the room. “He’s looking for the darts to these guns,” Ryder says and holds up a black and red toy gun.

  Colton pops his head out of the closet.

  “Guys, this is Mollie. She’s…” I look at her, and she curls her lips beneath her teeth. “A friend,” I continue.

  Both boys’ eyes widen like she’s a triple decker ice cream cone delivered right to their door. Colton scrambles out of the closet and races Ryder to Mollie’s side. They haven’t seen a woman in the house for quite some time. I actually get what they’re feeling right now.

  “Hey, fellas.”

  Ryder reaches out his hand just like I’d taught him. “I’m Ryder.”

  I keep my prideful grin inside so he doesn’t think I’m making fun of him.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Ryder.”

  When he releases her hand, she bends down next to Colton. “And of course I remember you.”

  Colton doesn’t reply, but this is the most I’ve seen his little lips turn up in weeks.

  “You’re a brave big brother. Are you helping take care of your sister?”

  He nods and Ryder rolls his eyes. “We both do.”

  Her attractive smile is infectious, but it’s her voice that seems to touch me somewhere deep inside. Maybe it’s her comforting nurse tone.

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Do you work out?” Ryder asks, his stare burning a hole in her biceps. “You’ve got strong muscles for a girl.”

  I cringe and shoot him the evil eye. We have more work to do on appropriate social behavior. “Sorry about that. My brother tends to say whatever he’s thinking.” I have no clue if all tween boys do that but I hope he’s over it soon.”

  “It’s totally fine, Ryder,” she tells him without looking at me. “I do like to stay in shape. I work out and I do some kick-boxing.”

  She's not rail-thin, which is nice, but I wouldn't describe her as a big girl. She's simply toned and fit and yet somehow, she still pulls off feminine. Maybe it’s her kind eyes or that incredible smell she’s wearing that’s now resting right on top of my upper lip. By the looks on these boys’ faces, it’s probably the smile that’s so endearing it comes through her eyes. Those feathery gray irises come back to meet my wide brown ones, and then I know that’s what it is. Definitely the eyes.

  “Wow, that’s awesome. Logan does all that combat stuff, too…well, he used to, right, Logan?”

  I try not to react, and Mollie doesn’t appear to give it a second thought.

  “Logan tell her about—”

  “Later, buddy, okay?” That’s the last thing I want to tell her.

  He ignores me but goes a different route. “Hey, Mollie, would you rather have to surgically remove a guy’s penis or sew one back on?”

  “Jeez, Ryder!” I touch her arm. “I’m sorry, Mollie.” I shrug. “It’s sort of a thing he does.”

  She laughs and seems to enjoy my embarrassment. Then she tells Ryder she’s a nurse and doesn’t do surgery.

  “Come on,” I say, gesturing down the hall. “Let's go see Belle.” She waves at the boys, and we make our way to the very end of the hall where Gramps’s room is. They're both sitting on the bed playing Pretty Pretty Princess, her favorite board game. I can see why any little girl would love it, but a part of me knows that one of the main reasons is because she gets a kick out of making all of us men wear jewelry. Gramps is wearing one earring, a bracelet, and the crown, which I'm sure Belle is not happy about. She slips a plastic ring on her finger and then notices us in the doorway.

  “Maui!” She starts to scoot toward the end of the bed but the combination of her boot and the board on an unsteady surface causes an earthquake-like tremor on the board.

  Mollie notices and quickly steps in. “Don't get up, honey. Let me come watch your game.” She sits on the edge of the bed next to Belle, who throws an arm around her neck and pulls Mollie's face an inch away from her own.

  “Did you come to my house to pway with me?”

  Mollie lays a gentle hand over Belle’s and says, “Hi, sweetie pea. Just wanted to see you.”

  While Belle is grinning from ear to ear, Mollie glances over at me with me an awkward shrug that makes my heart stall for a second. I find myself a little jealous of Belle’s proximity to her. She turns back to Belle, and they just look at each other for a moment. Mollie seems to have such a gentle, calming touch, I want to experience it personally. Again, a feeling of closeness comes over me, and I can’t grasp what it means. It must be that special presence nurses seem to have. I always appreciated their jobs and I respect what they do, but when my whole world changed, I gained a whole new perspective on exactly how important they are. Personally, I couldn’t have made it to where I am now without them. Yes, I do believe them to be angels and now one is in my house.

  Mollie runs her hand down the length of Belle’s soft, dark curls. Amazingly, Belle seems to know what Mollie is thinking. “Logan brushed it because I don’t have a mommy.”

  I see Mollie swallow, a
nd her chest pulls in a gasp of air. “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. You look very pretty, though.”

  Belle still doesn’t release her death grip, so I decide to intervene. “Remember what I said about personal space, Belly Bean.”

  “She likes it. She’s smiling.”

  “Finish your turn, squirt,” Gramps says, finally providing some assistance. It’s not that he doesn’t care to help, but Gramps likes to let us all fall on our faces before he jumps in.

  “Go ahead,” Mollie says. “I'll watch you.”

  When Belle finally lets go and scoots back into her spot, Mollie presents her hand to Gramps. “Hello, Mr. Bridges. I’m Mollie.”

  “It's a pleasure to meet you, young lady. And please call me Bud.” The crown starts to slip off his thinning white hair, but he pushes it back into place, knowing Belle wouldn’t allow him to take it off. Then as he’s moving his piece around the board, he eyes me and says, “It's about time Logan brought home a young woman for us to meet.”

  Mollie opens her mouth to speak but then looks at me instead, catching me staring at her in the process. I was so entranced by her lips that Gramps's words took a few extra seconds to reach me. I guess she figures I won’t answer. She gestures from me to her and with way too much assertiveness says, “Oh, we're not…dating. We went to high school together.”