Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

  I look up and he’s nodding. “It was all I was capable of, and maybe it was selfish but making it back stronger was not only good for me. It meant no one had to take care of me.” I take a long pull on my beer. “What does this have to do with anything? The point is, I’m here now. That should count for something.”

  “I guess.” He takes a drink of his beer and sets it on the counter. “I know you think you’re making this big sacrifice right now. I get that because I sure as hell wouldn’t want to do it now. But I would have if I wasn’t already working.”

  If the fact that he had a job and I was injured and unemployed is supposed to make me feel better, he’s not as smart as he pretends to be. “I know, Mase.”

  “And since you’ve come back, you think I’m not doing shit.”

  I admit I felt that way in the beginning. Only because I was shocked at the transformation my life had made. Those bombs didn’t just blow off my leg; they blew up my whole life. “I may have misread the situation some. But…just because you’re working with Dad doesn’t exempt you from any other responsibility.”

  “That’s just my point, man. Who do you think was here for the family when you weren’t? You were gone a long time. And the way you came blazing in here tonight like you’re Justice’s dad. Like you’re the only one he needs or wants. But Justice came to me. Turner said the only person he’d let him call for help, was me.”

  “Turner? That little shit was a part of this? That figures.”

  “No, he wasn’t. He was helping him from what Justice says.”

  I look down the hall, feeling anxious to get back there but grateful Mollie is with him.

  “You’re lucky to have her,” Mason says, drawing my attention back to him.

  Though I don’t feel like I have her, I say, “I know. So, what happened tonight?”

  “He swears he didn’t intentionally do this to himself.”

  I narrow my gaze at him. Justice isn’t a liar, but he’s gotten in his share of trouble, including snaking alcohol from the house for him and his friends. “You believe him?”

  “Didn’t sound like a party to me. More like a setup.”

  “What the hell? Who?”

  Mollie comes out of the room and joins us in the kitchen. She politely declines Mason’s offer for a beer and proceeds to tell us that Justice is going to be fine and is resting after emptying the contents of his stomach in the toilet.

  “Did he tell you anything?” I ask after Mason and I both thank her.

  “He’s embarrassed and hurt, which tells me someone did this to him.”

  My blood is boiling at the thought of someone messing with my brother. I know I can’t step in and solve all his problems but this is bull. “Did he say who or how?”

  Mollie takes the stool next to me and places her hand on my arm as if she knows her touch will calm me. “He only said that he was hanging out with friends and there was food and drink there but nothing illegal.”

  “Something must have been spiked,” I say. “Unless someone slipped him something.”

  “I don’t think he wants to tell,” Mollie says. “Doesn’t seem like he’s afraid, but…”

  “He doesn’t want to get labeled a snitch,” Mason says.

  “I don’t get it. He’s a great-looking kid, totally sweet, and he’s the quarter back. I thought guys like him were immune to the whole bullying scene.”

  “Maybe, but this is more like hazing.” Mason points his beer in my direction. “Those punks on his team are pissed at him.”

  Mollie gives a tight smile and tilts her head. “Football is already that important?”

  “Yep. And they hate that coach keeps giving Justice play time. He’s got that golden arm. It pays off most of the time and I’m sure coach is working with him and hoping it’s only a matter of time before he gets over his fear of being hit.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I don’t know whether to laugh or swear.

  “What is it?” Mollie says after she sees my expression.

  I stand. “Now he texts me. It’s Justice. He wants me to go in and see him.”

  She laughs. “He’s ringing the bell for you, nurse Logan.” She gestures her head in the direction of the room. “Your brother left a Gatorade by the bed. Make sure he drank some of it.”

  “You’ll be all right, here?”

  “Heck yeah. I’m going to pump your brother for information about you.”

  I knew he’d be fine. But seeing his wiry frame sprawled out on my brother’s king-sized bed makes my heart heavy with worry and sadness. My brothers—especially Justice—put up the tough front but they truly are boys without a mother.

  “Stop staring at me. I’m awake.”

  I step into the room and pad over to the bed. “Pretty boy looks like crap,” I tell him as I take a seat on the bed.

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s the shortest comeback in history. You are messed up.”

  “C’mon, dude. My head is spinning and I don’t have the energy to pop off to you.”

  I lift the bottle of red liquid from the side table and hold it up to him. He shakes his head and then brushes the fallen hair from his forehead. “No. No more of that crap.”

  I set it down and give him a taut smile. “This has to stop. This is no joke. You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

  His eyes narrow even more than they already were. “What do you want me to do? Go to the coach and add snitch to their bitch list?”

  I know that will only make it worse but he may not like what I have to say. “I’d never tell you to give in to bullying…” I pause and take a breath. “Almost never. What you need to do is be a leader on the team. That’s what quarterbacks do. And the first order of business is getting over your fears.”

  There is a long pause and I wait it out. Usually he mouths off about his golden arm and how coach thought he had this great potential. Finally, he whispers. “I don’t know if I know how.”

  “I’m gonna show you.”

  “What? Army style?”

  “Whatever. Look, you’re coming to the gym with me. You can work the obstacle course, improve your agility. And then…you’re going to have to take some hits. Even if I have to do it myself.”

  His eyes go wide and he turns on his side toward me. “You’re like twice as big as me and most of the guys on the field. You’ll crush me.”

  I smile and give his shoulder a little shove. “So, we’ll start with Turner’s skinny little ass. That ought to break you in.”

  We sit for a while longer and it looks like he dozes off. Maybe he just shut is eyes so he doesn’t have to talk. I don’t ask why he called Mason and not me. It seems petty and Mason was right. They had years to bond while I was away. It doesn’t matter that I was fighting for our country or even that I was injured. My brothers grew up and grew together without me. I need to understand that and be patient while I gain their trust. I don’t just welcome the chance. I am grateful for it.

  Chapter 19

  Logan

  With a towel wrapped around my waist, I hop over to the toilet seat and sit down in the steam-filled bathroom. My heart and mind are both racing, anticipating the night ahead of me. I’m taking Mollie on an official date tonight, and I feel like it’s the first date I’ve ever been on. When was the last time I took a woman out? Treated her special? This isn’t just any woman, though. It’s a woman who makes me smile just from the thought of her—her humor, her generosity. So many things I can’t put words to. A woman who calms the lurking fears that try to invade my consciousness. Strangely, there’s also something about her that scares me. Something that warns me not to get too close to her. Yet that’s all I want. I wish I could decipher what that is because it doesn’t feel like your standard relationship issues.

  “Dude! Stop staring at your ugly mug and get out.” Justice bangs on the door with this foot.

  “Go use another one,” I tell him through the door. For once I’m not giving it up.<
br />
  Surprisingly, he doesn’t reply. He’s been a little less mouthy lately, after he almost became the star of an after-school special.

  As I lotion up my chest and arms, I stare down at my amputated leg. Mollie didn’t even flinch when she saw it. She’s a nurse. Professional. I shouldn’t expect anything less. But her eyes weren’t evaluating me like a patient; I felt relieved at the acceptance I saw there. Still, acceptance and caring are a whole different story from desire. It sucks to know that for the rest of my life I have to wonder about that. I know it’s on me. Something I need to work on and accept, but I hate the expectations even if I’ve only put them on myself.

  One thing I do know is that it took all my mental and physical strength to stop what was happening in my bed that night. The feel of her velvety skin as I ran my hands down her torso. Her sinuous body writhing underneath me. Since that night it’s been all I can do to not think about it—every minute I’m with or without her.

  I use the sink to help me up and look at my face in the mirror. Thankfully I don’t look as tired as I feel. I couldn’t sleep last night, experiencing phantom limb pain, which I haven’t had in a long time. It’s pretty common but still a shitty thing to experience—pain when you don’t even have the damn limb you feel the pain for. I tossed and turned and finally fell into an exhaustive sleep sometime after 2:00 a.m. And by the way I woke up, I know I dreamt about that day. I can always tell even if I don’t remember. People get hypnotized to remember stuff. I want to get hypnotized to keep the memories at bay. If that makes me a coward, I can live with that.

  What I can’t believe is that I’m actually unsure what to wear. Since when did I ever care about my wardrobe? I miss the days where everything was uniform. I did, however, pick the place with no problem. I’m taking Mollie to a beach house restaurant on the pier she mentioned she’s been dying to try. I know she’ll love sitting on the wooden deck, and they’ve got great Mexican.

  When I’m just about finished up, another knock sounds on the door.

  “I have to go pee,” my tiny cousin’s voice—another one that makes me smile—says. And for a moment, I feel happy and sad all at once…for almost missing out on this opportunity and for understanding how parents feel when their kids are growing so fast you actually miss the kid they used to be. As if missing an actual person.

  “Hold on, Belly Bean.” I gather my things and open the door. My room is right across the hall so I typically hop back and get myself “wardrobed up” in my room.

  “We should take a bubble bath together,” she says as she passes me.

  I pause in my doorway, holding back a grin. “Um, I don’t think so.”

  “But why?”

  “Because you’re not allowed to bubble bath with boys until you’re married or thirty. Got it?”

  “Okay.”

  She shuts the door and then I shut mine, grateful I didn’t have to respond to another “but why.”

  I planned to spend the rest of the afternoon ensuring I don’t feel guilty leaving for the entire night to be with Mollie, even if I’m putting that on myself. But there really isn’t much for me to do. The house is fairly clean. Justice and Dad are about to head out to his game. Ryder is at a friend’s house, and Uncle Frank is taking his kids to Denny’s for dinner. I’m floored. How is it that no one needs me right now?

  When I think about it, things have been running pretty damn smoothly lately. It’s been a team effort, but I can’t help but believe it wouldn’t have happened without Mollie’s presence. Even the times she’s just here hanging out, everyone seems more relaxed, more patient with each other. Must be some magical Florence Nightingale thing.

  As I head toward the door, I spot the one person I hadn’t accounted for. Gramps is dozing in his recliner, a half-empty bottle of beer on the side table. I don’t want to wake him but gramps doesn’t have a cell phone. I stop in the middle of the room, deciding whether or not to leave a note.

  “I’m not asleep,” the old man says.

  “I’m heading out, Gramps. Need anything?”

  “What are you, my waiter?”

  “No one’s going to be home so what are you going to do if there’s an emergency?” We let the landline go a few months back. “You really should get a cell phone.”

  Gramps reaches into his front shirt pocket and pulls out a black device. “You mean one of these gadgets?”

  My eyes widen. “Where’d that come from?”

  “It’s mine. Lou talked me into it.”

  Lou?

  “Back in my day, you know how we talked to our friends?”

  “I know. You leaned sideways and yelled over the roar of the bike.”

  He shakes his head. “Now I need teenagers to show me how to dial a number.”

  “Then why’d you get it?” I smile because I know the answer and just want him to say it.

  “You better head out, Romeo. Don’t make that pretty girl wait.”

  Before I go, I program my number into his new phone and see he’s only got one contact: Lou. Gramps hasn’t been with a woman for as long as I can remember. His wife walking out all those years ago must have hit him too hard.

  As I head to Mollie’s to pick her up, I can’t help but wonder about prior generations of the Bridges men. Maybe hundreds of years ago, some witch laid a curse on one of my ancestors for cheating with the scullery maid. Of course, I don’t believe that, but it’s quite possible the Bridges men are just unlucky bastards who either lose the women they love or run them off for whatever reason. I might have my own issues, but I’ll do whatever it takes to be worthy of Mollie. This I know. Still, the thought is bittersweet since Mollie is going out of town soon to visit her parents for the holidays. We’ve spent so much time together lately, my heart constricts thinking of how empty it will feel without her.

  I ring the doorbell and Rocky’s paws appear in the window. A moment later, the door opens, and Mollie comes out, shutting the door behind her.

  “Hi,” she says, placing a palm to my chest.

  Before I can dwell too much on why she didn’t let me in, I notice her hair. The purple is gone. I liked it, but she looks even more striking with her sleek black hair framing her gorgeous face. She’s wearing a deep purple sweater, a short black skirt, and black boots. Holy crap that space of skin between skirt and boot draws me in like a magnet, but that’s dangerous territory right now. I force my gaze back up to hers and once again am blown away by her beauty. I step closer and grab a section of her long hair and run the pads of my thumb and forefinger down the length of it. “I like it.”

  “Thanks. I was planning on making a change anyway but since I’m seeing my parents I did it early.”

  “They don’t like your…color?”

  She lifts her chin with her lips pulled tight. “Um, no. They’re VCR, pager, mom jeans type of people.”

  “Mom jeans?” I chuckle and wonder how she manages that relationship, but I also hope they don’t make her feel bad for her choices, especially when all I want to do is make her feel good. I skim my hand over her waist to her back. Then I lean in and place my lips against her ear. “I love everything about you,” I whisper. Her head dips against my shoulder, and I can’t help but enjoy the deep rise and fall of her chest with my words. I place a single soft kiss just below her ear and feel her inhale against my neck.

  “You smell amazing,” she says.

  I don’t want to take this night straight through to the finish line so I back away to look into her eyes. “It’s called…soap.” I smirk and grab her hand in mine, lacing our fingers, and nothing has ever felt so right. “Let’s go eat these famous tacos you been dying to try.”

  “I heard the margaritas are just as good if not better.”

  At the restaurant we belly up to a small high-top round table in the bar area and immediately order two of their famous Cadillac margaritas. The place is pretty authentic-looking in its Mexican décor, and if the smell wafting around is any indication, I’m sure the food will
be amazing.

  We each pour our side shots of Cuervo into our glasses, give them a whirl, and take a sip. “Whoa, these are strong.”

  She raises her brows and sets her glass down. “Oh, yes. Faster buzz and less sugar for me.”

  “How hard is that on you? Keeping track of everything all the time?”

  “Sometimes it really does suck. Actually, it was worse when I was a kid. Now, I figure most women are watching every damn thing they eat anyway so I’m not that different.”

  I love her positive spin on something she clearly has a right to bitch about. “Whatever you’re doing is definitely working.” And just like that, all I can think about is seeing her naked. “You’re in great shape.”

  “Says the ninja warrior.”

  I shake my head, trying to think of something that doesn’t sound douchey but she jumps in before I come up with anything.

  “Have you heard anything yet?”

  “No, but I sent my tape in pretty early.”

  “Ryder must be going nuts with the waiting.”

  “He is. City auditions are still weeks away so I’d rather focus on other things.” I lean over and put my hand right next to hers and rub my thumb on the back of her hand.

  Mollie sips her margarita but keeps her steady gaze on mine. The heat transferring between us right now could melt the salt right off the rim of our glasses.

  “You two ready to order?”

  Mollie pulls her eyes away first and addresses our tall, lanky server. He barely gets a glance from me when he places chips and salsa on the table. I’m more interested in drinking in Mollie’s beauty and getting pleasure from her awkward grin as she gives her order. She clearly knows I haven’t wavered in my stare. The left side of her mouth quirks up slightly, and I can tell she’s holding back a grin as she asks the waiter to add extra guacamole. I slide my arm across the back of her chair and finally relent when she elbows me in the ribs.