Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

  “What? Stop running like a coward and face it?”

  “No…but you said yourself it’s getting worse. What if you stopped fighting so you can get past it?”

  Anger swirls in my gut but I’m not mad at her. I’ve had the same thoughts, but I just can’t. “I need to do this my own way. Please, you don’t understand. Not until you’ve been there.”

  “I’m sorry—that doesn’t help, I know. What can I do?”

  “You don’t have to nurse me. I’m good.”

  Mollie pushes herself up and reaches for the lamp with a sigh. “Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

  I glance over to find her brow furrowed. I’m such an ass; she didn’t deserve that. “Pretend I didn’t say that. Guys can be dicks sometimes in case you didn’t know.”

  She pulls the sheet up over her breasts, and I try to tell myself it doesn’t mean anything. “Oh, I know,” she says with playful sarcasm.

  I run my hand down her arm to her wrist and then twine my fingers with hers. “You’re not wearing your bracelets?” I hide my unexpected concern with a casual tone.

  Her eyes flit from mine and pan to our joined hands. “No. It’s still early. We should sleep more.”

  “Why?”

  “Well I know I’m not ready to get up.”

  “No, I mean why aren’t you wearing your bracelets?” It’s not that I’m so hung up on her fashion choices, but I don’t ever remember seeing her without them. Then I think back to last night and realize she didn’t have them on then either. An unease settles over me as I wait for her answer and I can’t figure out why. It makes no sense to me, yet somehow, I need to know.

  “Guess I just forgot…”

  The door swings open and Rocky waddles in and sits. Mollie slips out of bed and grabs a long sweatshirt off her dresser. “See if you can sleep. I’m going to let him out.”

  Heading out of the room, she tosses me a sweet smile. I roll over to my side, facing her nightstand, and pull the sheet higher. I take a few cleansing breaths with my eyes closed, afraid to sleep and return to my nightmare, but feeling drained from mentally running for so long. Knowing someday these nightmares—which are not really a nightmare considering it’s my brain trying to remember—will eventually catch up to me.

  When my eyes pop open once again, it feels as if no time has gone by, but the room is lighter. I can hear soft voices in the other room, but I’m not sure if Mollie is just talking to Rocky or someone else. I sit up and take a moment to look at her room. My focus is typically pretty direct when I’m in here but now, as I glance around, I’m reminded how impersonal it is. That makes me sad, though I’m not sure why. I suppose because it feels like the product of growing up without a lot of people in your life.

  Feeling sluggish, I take my time “suiting up.” I pull on each liner and by the time I secure my leg and get my pants on, the smell of coffee wafts into the room.

  Just before I head out of the room, something on her dresser catches my eye. On the corner in a neat pile sits the three bracelets Mollie always wears. She said she forgot to put them on, but they’d have been the last thing she saw before leaving her room.

  I step out into the hall and almost trip on Rocky. So, when I hear Mollie’s voice again, I know she’s talking to someone and not him. She must be whispering in case I was still sleeping. I hear Lou’s voice and I smile. Of course, she probably wants the dish on me and Mollie. I’m glad Mollie has someone close by that feels like family.

  I’m not confused about my feelings for Mollie. Every day we grow closer and she comes to mean more to me, but I’m not totally sure she feels as strongly as I do. It’s not that horrible if I happen to hear her telling Lou how she feels about me, right? I stare into Rocky’s sweet eyes, waiting for the answer to come. He just lowers his head to his paws. Okay.

  Feeling like a jerk for trying to listen, I head toward the kitchen. A small photo album on the desk outside the hallway grabs my attention. There aren’t many pictures in her place, so I’m dying to see something that reveals some of Mollie’s history. I flip it open and grin. Mollie is smiling next to two other women wearing the same green scrubs she is. I was hoping this was a family album, but it’s still nice to gain this insight. I turn each page over and there are similar pictures of her with the same woman along with others.

  Behind me I can still hear Mollie and Lou talking. It’s something about Rocky and whether Mollie wants Lou to come here or take him to her place.

  I quickly realize this little album documents some sort of travel nursing, which is pretty damn cool. I remember her mentioning that a while back and realize I should have shown more enthusiasm at the time. I should know more about her life experiences.

  I flip a few more pages when something Lou says catches my attention.

  “Did you talk to that hunky doc about Logan?”

  My heart jackhammers in my chest, and the skin on my face instantly heats. What the hell?

  “Lou,” she whispers. “We can’t talk about this now.”

  “Well what are you going to do?”

  Just then, Rocky starts scratching at the door. I hear footsteps in the kitchen, so I head to the door on instinct as the two women come around the corner. My heart beats so fast my expression must give me away.

  “Logan, so nice to see you again,” Lou says.

  Mollie and I both stare at each other for a few seconds before she gives me an awkward smile. “Did Rocky wake you?” When I only shake my head, she walks over and touches his head. “Let me just take him out real quick.” She glances at Lou as she opens the door.

  “I should probably head out,” Lou says and nods at me.

  I try my best to give her a smile, but my entire body is on high alert, lit with anger for a reason I don’t even know yet. What the hell just happened?

  As the ladies exit, I head back to Mollie’s room. I throw on my shirt and grab my wallet and keys. I have no idea what I’ll say when I get outside, but my brain is spinning with too many scenarios right now. None of which are good and most of them end with my fist in said doctor’s face. I pull in a few deep breaths because the last thing I want is to overreact. Yet as I pace back to the front door, I clench my fist at my side.

  “Please don’t leave yet,” Mollie tells me as we almost collide outside the front door.

  She lets Rocky in and closes the door behind him while I start heading to my car. I turn and lean against the hood, folding my arms. She stops a few feet away from me, like she’s afraid to close the distance between us.

  “So, you and the doc, huh?”

  Her brows meet and she cocks her head. “What? No…Logan whatever you heard—”

  “Why was Lou asking about him?”

  She looks confused, like it’s a tough question to answer. “He—He’s my doctor.” She takes a couple of steps toward me.

  “Yeah? Until he had his tongue down your throat.”

  My words stop her and her jaw drops. “How could you throw that back in my face?”

  The sheer pain in her eyes takes the form of a boulder and lands right in my gut. I don’t know why I said that. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stand that he’s the one you turn to.”

  “As a doctor. That’s all.”

  “That so?” I push off my car and close the distance between us, my heart racing. “Then why did I hear my name when you were talking about him. What could you possibly have to say to him about me? About us?” By the time I finish my voice is louder than I wanted, especially out front.

  She looks so afraid I almost don’t want to hear the answer. But there’s no turning back now.

  Her mouth is trembling as she opens it to speak. “Please, it’s not what you think.”

  “Then, you didn’t turn to him? You didn’t confide in him instead of me? What was it, Mollie? What are you so afraid of that you couldn’t talk to me about it?”

  She’s still quiet, but her eyes are welling with liquid. She reaches up to touch my face, and I don’t respond.
“Please, Logan, can you just trust me?”

  “I’m supposed to trust you when you go behind my back and talk about me. To some guy you hooked up with? They’re just dreams. Nightmares.” I look away a moment because her sadness is cutting the anger I want to release. The frustration I want to get out so she can see what she’s done. But then I see Rocky, watching us out the window like a scared child, and I know her kind heart would never intentionally hurt me. “You think I’m going to hurt you or something?” I say, turning to catch her gaze.

  She leans toward me, touching my shoulder. “No! No, I know you would never hurt me.”

  “Then what?”

  She shakes her head, drops her hand from my arm. “I—I’m sorry, Logan. I wish I could explain…”

  But I’m already heading back to my car.

  “Please, Logan. Will I see you before I leave?”

  I don’t answer and the last thing I hear before shutting the door is her faded words, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  I don’t even remember the drive home, but when I barrel into the house, I stop dead in my tracks. My dad is wearing a tie and helping Ryder fasten his around a stark white dress shirt. They turn to me and my dad raises his brows. “You’re the last one I expected to be late today.” I rack my brain for the answer I’m supposed to have and then it hits me. Today is Nina’s birthday.

  “Crap, sorry. Give me two minutes.” With my head down, I pace back to my room to change, completely disarmed of my anger. This shifting of emotions has me feeling panicked. But this is no time for an attack. It’s been so long since it’s been full blown out of my control, and I pray this is not the day. I summon all my strength to push everything down. Not just about Mollie but Nina and this day. I look in the mirror as I change and choke back a sob threatening to come out. Then I suck in several deep breaths until I’m sure it’s passed. I will make this day about Nina. She deserves it. My family deserves it.

  I’m quiet on the ride over, but then so is everyone else. I do my best to keep my thoughts from Mollie and centered on Nina and by the time we arrive, a sense of peace and love has quelled the pain of what just happened. At least temporarily.

  My brothers and I along with our father enjoy a breakfast out at Nina’s favorite little hole in the wall, and then we head to the church where we all light a candle in her honor. Before I step out of the church, I say a silent prayer. My mind is so muddled, I don’t even really know what to pray for, so I simply ask for strength.

  Chapter 23

  Logan

  Sweat runs like a river down my face, along my chest, and then settles into the grooves of my abs. I can’t seem to pump enough weight to calm my frustration, to clear my head of the haze Mollie left me with. We haven’t spoken in two days and the kids are asking me what’s going on. Thankfully, I had her trip to point the finger at and told them she had a lot to do to get ready. She texted me when I got home that day, and instead of drilling her once again with questions, I asked her to give me some time. It just felt right. As much as I need answers—need her—I felt this gnawing at the back of my mind that I needed to work out some stuff on my end first. What the hell that is, I’m not sure yet.

  “How’s the course today?” Roger asks, pointing to me as he walks toward his office.

  “Saw the changes, but I haven’t tried it yet this morning.” I manage some enthusiasm for Turner’s dad when I thank him again. He doesn’t show his face much during my pre-business workouts, but when he does, I owe him that much.

  He stops at his door. “Justice told us about regionals. Pretty freaking awesome, man.”

  “Yeah.” I nod and feel a pang of guilt for not giving him a bit more. At this point, everyone else seems more vested than I am.

  He lets me off the hook, and I finish with the weights and then run the course a few times before heading home.

  At the house, I notice a premade casserole in the fridge. I can see Gramps through the kitchen window in the backyard, digging up a rose bush. I stick my head out the side door. “Hey, Gramps. What are you doing?”

  “I’m filming my DIY gardening show. Can’t you see the cameras?”

  I step outside and see his hat resting uselessly on the patio table. I toss it to him. “Come on, Gramps. It’s not gonna protect you from those squamous cells on the table.”

  He points to the dark clouds over our heads and says, “See any sun?”

  “Doc said all the time.”

  He puts it back on without a word and goes back to work. For some reason, I just lean against the stucco wall and watch. I don’t know why he suddenly wants to rip out the bush, especially when Nina loved the roses.

  After a few minutes, he stops and rests his arm on the shovel. “We let ’em die, kid. House full of able-bodied men and we let Nina’s roses die.”

  I let out a breath and drop my head. What could I say?

  “Got tired of seeing your dad look out the window at this dead bush. So, I’m replacing it with rhododendron.”

  “She liked those too?”

  “Sure did. Guess I’ll be responsible for them if no one else will.”

  “I’m sorry, Gramps. We’ll take care of them.”

  “Maybe you oughta get your own life straight first?”

  “Saw that casserole in the fridge. I was thinking—hoping—maybe Lou brought it.”

  “Nope. Mollie left here about ten minutes ago.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Not much.” Gramps lifts the new bush into the hole he dug and shovels dirt around. Then we both bend over and push the rest around the sides and pat it down. “Spent a few minutes with Belle and told her she couldn’t go to the lunch at preschool.”

  “Damn. The casserole. I forgot. I’ll take her.”

  We both stand and brush ourselves off of dirt. “Frank will take her…as he should.”

  “What about work?”

  “He’s taking off. That’s what parents do.”

  I roll up the hose and then follow Gramps back to the garage. “Frank’s been doing better, don’t you think?”

  “He has…but I don’t think that’s going to make you feel any better about Mollie,” he says as he leans the shovel against the wall and removes his gloves.

  When he turns, I narrow my eyes at him like I don’t understand exactly what he’s just said.

  “We all appreciate Mollie’s help, but we haven’t really needed her for quite a while.”

  “What are you saying?” My pulse quickens in defense, but I’m also confused.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Logan. I’m just saying Mollie’s presence here hasn’t been about need, it’s been about want.” He walks over and puts his hand on my shoulder, pinning me with a look I don’t see often from him. “But I’m worried about her. I saw the pain, the hurt, in her eyes today. Gave me a hug that felt like goodbye.”

  I turn my attention from him. “I don’t know what to tell you. I couldn’t explain it if I tried.” I break from his hold and head toward the kitchen door. “I know what you’re thinking, Gramps, and I’m not the one who did something here. At least I don’t think I did. I gotta take a shower.”

  “Sounds like you need to think on it more.”

  When I start down the hall, his voice catches me. “Logan. Can you take care of that old bush for me? Tomorrow is trash day.”

  I turn on my heel and nod before heading outside. I should have offered to handle this before he even asked. I wouldn’t want Dad coming home to see Nina’s bush uprooted and lying there. Gramps was right to get rid of it, though.

  Once I get some gloves on and drag the can over, a dull patch of clouds passes over. The rain that was predicted for today looks like it may be ready to show up. I’d have much rather spent a rainy day trailing kisses down Mollie’s stomach, arm draped over her hip, as we listened to thunder roll in. Now, I don’t even know when or if I’ll touch her silky skin again.

  I manage to stuff the bush in the receptacle as best I can and pull it out to
the curb just as a light sprinkle falls from the sky. I stand at the trashcan a moment, unable to just walk away. I stare at the stupid rosebush, which now somehow feels like it’s symbolic of my stepmother’s life, and this wave of sorrow washes over me. I wipe at the rain drops on my cheeks and realize they are mixed with tears.

  I’m weeping? I stay frozen a moment, dumbfounded by this emotional response that crept up on me. I can’t even recall the last time I have actually shed tears. I didn’t cry when I found out about my fallen brothers or even the loss of my leg. Maybe it was shock, waking up in the hospital feeling completely lost. I didn’t cry at Nina’s funeral either. I needed to be strong for the family. I’ve kept that wall up for so long it was bound to crack at some point.

  But why now?

  I scrub the tears angrily and run my fingers through my hair out of frustration. I can’t help but wonder if part of this is feeling the loss of Mollie. Somehow, she does feel gone. And I don’t even know how or why. I try to shut the lid over the bush but it won’t stay down. I don’t want this to be the first thing Dad sees when he pulls in so I yank on it, slamming it down a few times, hoping to smash it in there. “Goddammit!”

  The rain is soaking my hair at this point, and when I finally get the dead bush covered, I’m heaving. I take a few cleansing breaths, but it’s not working. Panic rises in my chest, which pisses me off to no end because I thought I was past all this. Except for my dreams, I had a pretty damn good handle on my emotions. Or so I thought.

  Right now, I want to beat the hell out of something, but I can’t take it out on the can which holds Nina’s bush, so I pace to the house. I stop short before the door. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this, especially the little ones. So, I go around the corner, lean against the garage door, and slide down until I’m resting my elbows on my bent knees and just breathe.

  The rain is coming down harder now and I close my eyes, hoping it will lull me to a calmer place. I can still hear my pulse in my ears, seemingly pounding along with the beat of the rain. And then behind my eyes, I see the rain. But it’s a different rain…coming from the dark desert sky. I see it but I can no longer hear it. The sound is being drowned out by the ringing in my ears. The muffled screams. The chaos surrounding me, swimming in and out of my vision. I try to open my eyes to escape the haunting vision, but I can’t. I know exactly where I am and what’s happening. Instead of opening, my eyes squeeze tighter when I hear a voice. It sounds like Jennings, only very far away, or weaker than I remember him.