Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

  Though her face was the last thing I saw when I went to sleep and the first thing to pop into my mind when I woke, my brothers wouldn’t let me drag my ass around being depressed. These last few weeks could have been hell if not for my keeping my head directed at this qualifier. I just don’t want to look like an idiot out there. Or worse, the pity case everyone claps for because I lost my leg fighting. Today means a lot to Ryder, so I sure as hell am going to try to get as far as I can, but part of me wonders if it’s better if I don’t make it to the next round.

  I turn in my seat and scan the streets to see if they are coming. I can see the Mercedes lot from here. And, exactly as I’d predicted, the two of them walk out and are finally headed this way. I often wonder where Ryder’s “need for speed” is going to take him when he gets older.

  I continue to watch them and feel grateful Mason wanted to be here for this. Taking off from work is not something my big bro likes to do. A warmth settles in my chest when I see him put a hand on Ryder’s shoulder.

  The din of a busy work day surrounds me, and then something to my right catches my eye. I turn from my brothers. It’s a family, mostly little kids but all boys like mine. A smile takes over my face as I watch them rough-house while the mom tries to settle them with a baby in her arms. My face falls, along with my stomach, when I spot one of the little guys behind the mom, heading for the street. Without hesitation, I pop from the chair and barely register it sliding back and hitting the ground.

  I leap over the short brick wall that encircles the patio and take off at a run. I yell but my voice is lost among the street sounds. My heart beats radically in my chest and echoes in my head. I shout to the mother, to anyone who could get there before me.

  The toddler wobbles off the curb and settles in between two parked cars. I’m sprinting now, dodging people in the street, pushing them out of my way. I risk a quick glance at the mother. She turns my way but narrows her eyes as if I’m coming to hurt her. To hurt her children. She cups the baby’s head and turns in toward the two boys next to her.

  The errant boy is now two steps farther into the street but still between the parked cars. Traffic is light but cars are coming north right toward him.

  I don’t know if the mother has figured out what’s happening because I stay laser focused on the boy, not wanting to lose precious seconds. His hand is skating across the bumper of one car as he toddles along its front. I’m mere moments from him.

  I’ve stopped breathing just as I reach the curb. I slide across the hood as the boy passes the front bumper and emerges in the street as the sound of cars roar in my ears. A rush of adrenaline I haven’t felt in years shoots through my system as I slide off the car. I scoop the boy up, spin around, and fall back against the parked car just as another car beeps and swerves around us.

  My chest is heaving and yet I feel suffocated. My ears must be plugged because every sound I heard moments ago is now muffled, and all I see is black. Light flashes behind my eyes, dizzying my head. I’m falling now, my arms still griped tightly around the boy’s tiny body. Images I’ve never seen before take over my consciousness. Mo, Vin, Jennings, me. Laughing and smiling. In an instant, they’re gone, replaced with smoke and fire, metal and debris…darkness. Where the hell are they? My hearing restores and screams ensue. Pleas for help.

  Then I’m at Jennings side. I’m numb. My brain and my body feel non-existent and yet somehow, I know my leg is seriously fucked up. He’s grabbing at my arms, yelling for something. “I’m gonna fucking die under here, man.”

  He’s still grabbing at me, but I start yanking him too. I’m pulling but he won’t budge. My heart is in my throat. I’m parched and can’t find my voice so I tell him with my eyes. I won’t leave here without you.

  Someone is pulling at my arm, trying to get me away from Jennings. No, stop. I hold tighter. I can’t let go. I won’t—

  “Logan…it’s okay. Let go.”

  I shake my head at the voice. Light slowly replaces the dark and I open my eyes. Mason is leaning over me. Beyond him…the mother, with tears in her eyes. My arms hold the trembling boy, his arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

  Mason grins at me and nods. The mother steps around him and kneels down next to me. I open my arms and the boy goes to her. She manages to take him into her arms while still holding her baby. “Thank you,” she says over his shoulder. “You’re a true hero.” Then she turns to gather her other boys and simply walks away like it was all a dream.

  A hand lands on my shoulder and I look up behind me. “You are a hero, Logan,” Ryder says. “That was so freakin’ awesome.”

  My big brother helps me up, and the three of us walk past a small crowd of people, who at some point had gathered around the commotion. I stay quiet, walking with Mason as Ryder runs ahead to tell Justice what happened. I’m sure he’s going to revel in being witness to something Justice missed out on.

  Before we reach the brick wall of the patio, Mason stops me. “Want to talk about what happened back there?”

  I look past him, out to the street. “You saw, right?”

  “You know what I mean. After?”

  I can’t put words to it just yet, especially not now, before I have to do this thing. On TV no less. “I appreciate it, Mase. But I have to stay focused or—”

  He grips my shoulder to get my attention. “Your focus was just shot to shit, man.”

  I let out a sigh. “You’re right. And I do need to acknowledge what happened. But not here. Let me do this thing and then if I need to talk, I’ll hit you up.” I turn to head back to our table and he slaps me on the back.

  “Just know I’m here for you. You might not think I’ve been there in the past but we’re brothers”—I pull out my chair and he grabs my wrist—“always, man.”

  I nod and tap my fist on his shoulder.

  “So tender—can we freakin’ eat now?” Justice flips a menu open, completely unaffected by anything that has happened. “I need a burger, like now.”

  “Hey,” Ryder says as Mason and I finally sit. “Would you rather eat a burger with a roach in it or a cat turd?”

  And, we’re back.

  By the time we reach the location of the qualifier, my mind is completely jacked. So much for staying focused. I thought about the boy and what would’ve happened if I hadn’t seen him. I thought about the flashback I had and how I remembered some things I had never recalled before. My heart races just acknowledging that fact. The part that has me so confused is that I don’t even remember talking to Jennings during any of it. All I know is that he was the only other survivor.

  As we head to the registration table, all I can think about is how, for the first time ever, I feel like I need the whole story. How the hell am I supposed to tackle this course and try to qualify when my head is back in the desert?

  “Dude, come on,” Ryder says, yanking on my arm.

  I hadn’t realized I stopped short of the table. “Sorry, yeah.”

  Then my brother Mason is in front of my face, giving me the questioning eye. He turns his head to Ryder. “This isn’t the only qualifier, Ry. Maybe after what happened—”

  “No, I’m good.” I smile at Ryder to reassure him. The disappointment on his face instantly fades.

  “You sure?”

  I nod at Ryder and tap Mason on the shoulder to step aside. Registration is a blur, but as we head to warm up, my head starts to clear. I’m here now so I need to push everything else aside until this day is over. Jennings has been after me for a long time, and I’ve been avoiding him. As soon as we’re back home, I’m going to face him. Face my past. It’s time to stop running. Oddly, I feel something stir in my gut. I’m no longer nervous about the course because whatever happens, I’ll be good with it. But what I’m feeling build inside of me is hope. I almost don’t recognize it, and though I don’t know what it means right now, I like it.

  “How are you feeling?” Ryder asks minutes before they are going to call my name.

  “I’m g
ood, Ry. But you know—”

  “I know, I know. I don’t even care.” He wraps his arms around me and slams his damn head into my chest, and I choke back the speech I was ready to deliver. “Logan, I’m so proud of you. You’re the champ no matter what. I just can’t believe we’re here.”

  I peel his arms away to look at him, thrown by how mature he’s being about this when I’d thought he had all his hopes on me making it. When I lean back, he shoves his phone camera right into my face. “Logan Bridges, the next Ninja Warrior. What have you got to say?”

  Before I can say anything, a middle finger comes between me and the camera. “You’re next!” Justice shouts.

  I’ve got three sets of hands patting me down as I walk toward this monster of a challenge and with every touch of my brothers’ hands, I feel the energy surging through me. As they fall back and I continue toward the course, the cheering rolls over me like a thunderous crescendo. I didn’t notice this much cheering for the other contestants. I slow my pace, confused by it all until it hits me. Man, I didn’t want this to go down this way. The adrenaline I felt only moments ago is starting to seep from me.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  I turn and see Mason at my side. Suddenly, the crowd is chanting my name. “They’re cheering for me.”

  “So?”

  “So, I didn’t want to be the charity case. They must know about my leg.”

  Mason laughs, his smile so wide I could drive a car through it. He shakes his head.

  “What?”

  “You dumb ass. They’re not cheering because of that.” He points to a giant screen above the field and there I am.

  What the hell…

  Someone must have taped what happened earlier when I saved that kid.

  “They’re chanting for a hero. You’re a hero, Logan. Now go give ’em what they want.”

  Chapter 26

  Logan

  The sun beams through the branches of the giant oak forty yards in front of me. Most of the leaves have turned brown and are still damp from the last three days of rain. The kids have been bouncing off the walls being stuck in the house, and though I was set to meet Jennings today, I couldn’t say no when they asked me to take them to the park.

  I glance at my phone, noting he’s due any minute and I feel both excited and nervous. When I look up and see Colton making his way across the monkey bars with Justice spotting him, I can’t help but feel pride. I had no problem making my way across the pipefitter during my course run but the block run almost took me out. My time wasn’t the best, and I’d barely qualified for the next round, but the response from the crowd, from my family? It felt like I’d scaled that wall, hit the buzzer, and won the whole damn thing.

  I check my phone again, but this time I’m looking for a response from Mollie. I haven’t heard from her since she wished me good luck the morning of the qualifier. I called her after the competition. Not to share with her I’d made it to the next round, but to tell her what happened with the boy I saved. To tell her what I remembered. But I didn’t want to text that, especially since I don’t know what any of it means. The call had gone straight to voicemail, which means either her phone was off or she’d rejected my call. That thought settles heavy in my stomach, a foreboding throb I’m not ready to think about it yet. There must be a logical reason that doesn’t involve breaking my heart into a million pieces.

  A shadow moves across my phone and I look to find a man grinning down at me, arms across his chest. His hair is long enough to touch his shoulders and he’s sporting a full beard and mustache. It takes me a moment before I catch his gaze and the piercing blue eyes I remember once belonged to my friend finally reveal the stranger in front of me.

  “Shit, Jennings, is that you?” I hop up and we shake hands before he pulls me into a hug. “I was about to give you some spare change.”

  He slams my back a couple times with a large palm and it feels like home. “Yeah, well you look as pretty as a little girl. Like always,” he says pulling back.

  I take another look at his face and just shake my head. “Can’t believe it’s you, man.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you’d have recognized me if you hadn’t taken so damn long to see me.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Why now?”

  “I told you on the phone. Have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the bench.

  We both sit and I scramble for the words I prepared before he got here. When we spoke on the phone, I only told him I wanted to talk about that day. I rub my hands along my thighs and take a deep breath, ready to finally open the door that has been closed for so long.

  “Look, Bridges,” he says first. “I get this is tough. I’m just glad you’re finally ready to talk. I thought you’d never forgive me.”

  My breathing comes to a screeching halt and I pass a glare over to him. “Forgive you? What the hell—”

  Belle takes that moment to slide right up to us and stop in front of Jennings. “Who are you?”

  “Well, I’m Prescott Jennings, little lady. Who might you be?”

  “I’m Belle. You don’t have any candy, do you?”

  He smirks and leans on his knees. “Sorry, I don’t have any.”

  “My cousin,” I say, gently nudging Belle out of his personal space. “And that’s not polite, Belly Bean.”

  She tilts her head and squints. “Well, I was just trying to help you. Justice says men with candy are bad.”

  “We’ll talk about it later. Why don’t you go back to the swings?”

  “Okay.” She shrugs and turns to go but then stops and spins back to us. “Hey, my friend Mollie can give you a braid.”

  I point to the swings with my stern face. Something this adorable should have had me holding back a grin, but just the mention of Mollie makes me ache. I pull in a lungful of air and focus on why I’m here.

  “She’s cute,” Jennings says as Belle stomps away.

  “She’s also right. Geez, man, ever heard of a barber?”

  “C’mon, you know I hated that high and tight bullshit.”

  I shift my body so my back presses into the corner of the bench and I stare at him, hoping some flash of memory will come to the surface.

  “I didn’t expect this,” he says.

  “What?”

  “The way you’re looking at me right now. So blank. Like we didn’t go through hell and live to tell about it. Why is that?”

  “Because, man…I don’t remember.”

  A burst of air escapes him. He runs his hand over his hairy face and his eyes mist. “Shit,” he whispers. “All this time…”

  “I’m sorry.” It’s the only words I can spare when he looks like that.

  We don’t say anything for a couple minutes, him staring out into the playground, me watching him.

  Finally, he turns to me. “You dumb motherfucker.”

  “What?”

  “Why are we here if you don’t remember? I almost gave up on you, man. So why did you finally answer after years of me texting and calling?”

  Part of him must know some of my reasons. It’s why there would be months that would pass before he tried again to reach me. Survivor’s guilt is real. Yes, I was a coward and couldn’t face what happened. I didn’t want anything triggering my memory. But at the same time, I didn’t want comfort either. I didn’t want to share stories and talk about our feelings like some AA meeting. I just wanted it all behind me.

  “I’m sorry. I just…couldn’t. Honestly, I don’t know how you could. At first, it was all about surviving, learning to live with my new leg.” His gaze lowers when I mention my leg but I continue. “If I wanted to come back strong, I couldn’t look anywhere but forward. And, I knew remembering would only make me feel worse because I survived. I couldn’t do shit for our brothers. We were supposed to have each other’s backs and I didn’t—”

  His hand lands hard against my chest. “The hell you didn’t!”

  I stare at him wide-eyed but don’t say anything.

  “Logan
, I’m sitting here right now because of you, man.” He seems almost angry as he leans his elbows on his knees and stares at his clasped hands. “You, pulled me out of that hunk of metal that used to be our Humvee. You, stayed right in my goddamn face the whole time, keeping me talking…” He swipes at his eye. “And you, you dumbass, made them take me first.” He turns his head, the pain in his glower slicing through me. “I’m probably the reason you lost your leg.”

  “No way.” I shake my head, not even sure why I’m refuting him when I don’t remember. And then, those piercing blue eyes send me back to that moment. Back to that horrible scene when his gaze gripped mine, pleading for me to do something. My leg was shot to hell. I knew that when I dragged my body half-way inside and pulled with everything I had to get Jennings out. At one point, the back of my knee snagged on some jagged metal or something and I cried out. I reach out and rub my knee, the pain of the past radiating as real as when it happened.

  “You remember,” Jennings says.

  I place a hand on his shoulder. “My leg wasn’t gonna make it either way.”

  “You don’t know that. And the delay getting medical attention. Maybe—”

  I wave his comments away with a hand and a determined expression. “No, man. No. I don’t regret a damn thing. Hell, you know you’d have done the same for me.” I smile because I know in my heart my words are true. All of them.

  He returns a half smile, though he still looks hesitant. He’s staring at me like he wants to believe me. Then his expression changes. “I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t have kept you awake the same way that you did for me.”