9. Bridget
9
brIDGET
I stood at the mirror and stared at my reflection. My makeup bag was open in the sink. Sponges and brushes were at the ready.
I hated how good I was at covering up bruises.
I hated that I knew exactly which combination of concealer and foundation would work best on each hue painted across my face.
I hated that I knew which undertones would color correct the purple or green marks.
The sound of Luna pawing at the cottage door shattered my mental haze.
I hadn’t seen Chase in a week. Against my better judgment, I’d turned off my phone and ignored everyone. The only person who got through my wall of silence was Wanda, the old bird who had owned Jokers longer than I had been alive.
Two days ago, she stomped through the yard, pounded on the cottage door, and shoved the check she had been holding for me under the door .
That was Wanda. She wasn’t the walk softly and carry a big stick type. She was surly and didn’t put up with an ounce of shit.
She had shouted through the closed door that she didn’t want to see me back at the bar until next month, but she wouldn’t send me home if I wanted to come back. Then, without further ado, she stomped back to the station wagon that she had been driving since 1997.
I had an inkling that Wanda saw Kyle’s true colors a long time ago. She had caught me crying in the storeroom a few times, but never said anything. I knew that if I showed up tonight, she wouldn’t give me shit.
I was betting on that.
I didn’t need pity or commentary on my life choices. I just needed to feel like I had a place where I belonged.
Reluctantly, I pulled my hair back in a big clip and started layering my war paint.
An hour later, I looked like the old Bridget.
It wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
I was staring back at the girl who had been willing to protect her friends at any cost, but she was also the girl who had paid the price.
It felt like hell putting on a bra, but at least I could pull my own shirt over my head without too much trouble. I didn’t even want to think about what I would have done if I couldn’t dress myself. No way in hell was I asking Chase to help me get clothes on.
He had to be pissed at me, but I didn’t want to think about that. Keeping space between us was an extraordinary kind of torture, but it was necessary.
That night under the string lights, feelings that I had been stifling for years came bubbling to the surface. I wanted him.
I wanted him bad.
Heart, mind, soul .
… And a lot of other body parts.
Chase was an addiction. Just being near him gave me a contact high. He was intoxicating, and it was dangerous. I had let myself fall fast once before, and I almost didn’t survive it.
If it hadn’t been for Mel and Jase, I would have died on that marble floor.
I should have died.
It would be so easy for me to get swept up in the rush with Chase. It would be a fairytale.
I told Chase that I needed space to grapple with the gravity of the last few weeks, but space was hurting me as much as it was hurting him.
Chase was my best friend. Had been for as long as I could remember.
It was hard for men and women to stay friends as long as he and I had. Jobs got in the way, significant others saw male-female friendships as a threat, and life changes put people in different circles.
But not us.
Even in the worst of times with Kyle, I looked forward to poker night. Even though I knew I had to keep my mouth shut about what was going on at home, I lived for the one night where I’d see him for a few hours.
I survived the other six days of the week just for the one where he was there.
I adjusted my black tank top and did a cursory check of my hair. It was in a sloppy braid with strands falling out to frame my face, but that was how I usually wore it to work. I wasn’t about to get gussied up now.
I grabbed my purse, double-checking for my very empty wallet and the keys to Chase’s truck. The thought of driving that behemoth to the bar was terrifying, but I’d do what I had to do until I could save up enough to buy a clunker. Pulling everything out, I reached in and made sure that I had the restraining order Steve had given me.
Before I was discharged from the hospital, Steve made sure that I had a protective order in place.
Unfortunately, in the grand scheme of things, it was just a piece of paper. It wouldn’t do shit if Kyle came at me. The only bright side was that if he came at me, it would tack on a few more charges to his growing rap sheet.
The sun was still blinding as I pulled the cottage door shut and locked it up. I glanced at the house, wondering what Chase was up to tonight. The lights inside were off, and his car was gone. Maybe he had gone out with the guys.
I choked down the notion that maybe he had a date. It was unfair of me to hope that he’d wait for me.
I unlocked the truck and clumsily climbed in. “Geez, this thing is high up,” I muttered as I hauled my ass into the driver’s seat. A sticky note was plastered to the middle of the steering wheel. In Chase’s barely legible chicken scratch, it read, I love you, darlin’. Don’t ever doubt it.
Damn him.
I sniffed back a tear as I slipped the Post-it into my wallet. I didn’t doubt Chase’s love for a second. I just knew I wasn’t worthy of it.
I turned my phone back on for the first time in a week. The thing nearly exploded with all the backlogged calls and texts piling in at once. I didn’t have time to go through all of them. So, I fired off a text to thank Chase for the note and promised that I’d try my best to bring his truck back in one piece.
Jokers was unusually packed for a weeknight. I had chosen to go back to work on a Tuesday because it was one of the slower days. Apparently, half of the Crystal Coast decided to come out for a drink tonight.
Wanda was probably losing her mind.
All of the spaces were taken, so I parked the truck along the side of the building, hopped out, and jogged to the front door.
The screen door wobbled on the middle hinge as I carefully opened it. It had broken free from the top and bottom hinges a few weeks ago. I really needed to see about fixing that thing.
Today was not the day, though. I had drinks to make.
“What the...” My jaw hit the peanut shell-covered floor the moment I set foot inside.
Jokers wasn’t just busy. It was packed . Every booth and barstool was taken. The dance floor and pool tables were standing room only. Austin Hale and his guys from the Beaufort Fire Department were crowded into the booths next to a handful of firefighters from Morehead City.
Cops—in and out of uniform—were on the far side of the building. It looked like officers from the Beaufort Police Department were by the bar. Havelock PD crowded around the cocktail tables to the side of the dance floor. The Atlantic Beach PD lingered by the pool tables. Morehead City cops were mingling around the jukebox.
Paramedics and EMTs loitered around the end of the bar by the bathrooms. There was a gaggle of nurses in the walkway, flirting it up with the firefighters.
And sitting in their usual spots, filling up ten barstools, was the poker club.
“Well,” Wanda harrumphed from behind the bar. “Are you gonna stand there lollygagging, or are ya gonna start makin’ drinks? We got thirsty people waitin’ on ya.”
I hurried into the back and dropped my purse in the office. When I got behind the bar, plates were flying out of the kitchen, the jukebox was blaring, and every first responder in a thirty-mile radius was swinging around on the dance floor.
“What in the world?” I asked as I grabbed beer bottles out of the ice chest and popped the tops. They were for Steve, Jason, and Mel. “Did I miss a first responder memo? Is this pre-planning for next year’s kickball tournament?”
Mel laughed. “This was all Chase, honey.”
“What?” I looked around. Chase wasn’t here.
“He knew you were a little scared to come back to work, so he asked a couple of the guys from the department if they wouldn’t mind hanging out here tonight,” Steve said.
“And I may have mentioned it to Austin when I saw him at the gym a few days ago,” Mel said, tipping her head toward Austin Hale.
He gave me a tip of his chin and a warm smile.
“You’ve got yourself a good family,” Wanda said, leaning back as she mixed a margarita. “Let’s just hope they tip well.”
I worked my very sore ass off, hustling around the bar to fill drink orders. Luckily, most of the patrons kept it easy. Beer in a bottle or beer in a glass. Luca had Wanda distracted, talking to her about franchising. She looked him straight in his ridiculously rich face and laughed.
When I rounded the bar to clear a table that the firefighters had abandoned, Maddie stepped into the lane and threw her arms around me.
“I missed you, babe,” she murmured.
Hannah Jane appeared behind my back. “You know you can’t get rid of us, right?”
“The sexy five doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Erica said.
“Sexy six for life,” Mel said, joining the group hug.
“Y’all, I have dirty beer glasses in my hands,” I sniffed. And tears in my eyes .
“Don’t care,” Kristin said, throwing her arms around the dogpile. “Accept the unconditional love that we’re forcing on you to take. Turnabout is fair play.”
“I love y’all,” I murmured. “But if I don’t get back to work, Wanda’s gonna whoop my ass.”
With a bar full of people, I didn’t have time to think. It was just one drink after the other. Since Maddie was pregnant, Luca took it upon himself to make sure she didn’t jump up and turn my bar into a stage.
Steve and Erica slow danced by Hannah Jane and Isaac. My brother and Melissa were shit-talking Will and Kristin over a game of pool. Luca and Maddie were making out in the corner.
I stepped back into the alcove behind the liquor shelf and took it all in.
Chase made sure I felt as safe as a girl could possibly feel. I was surrounded by a community that looked out for each other. That fought for each other. That loved each other.
“You doing okay?” Erica asked as she slipped behind the bar and refilled her glass of sweet tea. “With how busy it is, I figured Wanda wouldn’t mind me coming back here.”
I missed working with Erica, but I knew how much she loved being a mom. The months that she and I had worked together were some of my favorites.
The memory of Steve barreling in, taking long strides across the room to kiss the lipstick off of Erica and tell her that he loved her seemed like ages ago.
The reminder of how many years had passed made me think about how Chase used to come in here at least twice a day, lean across the bar, and say, “Hey, darlin’.”
Even if he was driving by on his way somewhere else, he’d swing in with a paper-thin excuse that he needed a glass of water .
He hadn’t done that in a while. And I still hadn’t figured out why he wasn’t here tonight. The poker club traveled as a pack.
“He’s in the parking lot,” Erica said. “Steve slipped out there a few minutes ago to talk to him.”
“Oh—I wasn’t?—”
Erica rolled her eyes and motioned for me to follow her. “Come on. Everyone’s taken care of. Wanda can hold down the fort for a few minutes.
“Bridget.”
I turned my head to see who was calling my name. Austin Hale was at the bar.
“Need something?” I asked.
Austin scooped me into the gentlest bear hug I could have imagined. For being such a giant, he sure was cuddly. “Just wanted to let you know it’s good to have you back,” he said. “And if you ever need anything, we’re just a call away.” He cocked his head back toward the group of guys in BFD shirts lingering by the door.
“Thanks,” I blubbered out with a watery smile.
He paid his tab and headed out the door with a two-fingered wave. Someday, a very lucky girl was going to fall head over heels for that hunk of a man.
I followed Erica into the storeroom and flipped on the lights. We’d had countless heart-to-hearts back here. Jim Beam and Jack Daniels never gossiped about what they overheard.
“How are you really ?” Erica asked as we sat on five-gallon buckets of dish soap. “Steve didn’t tell me everything, but he told me some of it.”
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the unopened packages of bar towels. “I’m dealing.”
“Are you dealing or are you deflecting?” she asked. “Trust me, staying busy doesn’t help. It just pushes down the trauma and lets it fester.” She wasn’t treating me with kid gloves like everyone else did, and I loved her for it. Even if her observations stung.
“I think I’m emotionally constipated.”
Erica let a giggle slip. “What do you mean?”
I sighed, running my hand back through my loose strands of hair. “I feel like I haven’t cried as much as I should. Like it’s all stopped up. Probably because I know Kyle is still out there somewhere. I’m out, but it doesn’t feel like the ordeal is over, you know?”
She gave me a reassuring nudge with her shoulder. “I get that.”
“I’m dealing as best as I can right now,” I said. “I feel like it hasn’t really hit me yet. I’ve had these moments where I’ll cry or be angry, but it’s over small things.” I peeled back the Velcro on my wrist brace and adjusted the tension. “Chase has been so good to me through all of it. I’m just afraid that one day I’m going to explode, and he’s going to be collateral damage because he got too close.”
“You’re asking him to trust that you know what you need and what you can handle. Maybe you should trust him to know what he can handle, too.”
By some kind of miracle, I made it through the rest of my shift without crying. Much . I teared up when everyone from the poker club said their goodbyes. I hugged Wanda extra hard when she told me the tips were mine and she wasn’t taking a dime.
I had been strong for longer than I expected. When I walked out to the truck and saw Chase sitting on the hood of his car in the empty parking lot, everything came flooding in.
But instead of running to him like I wanted, I ran away.
Because the voice in my head was back.
You’re stupid if you think anyone but me will ever want you. Don’t you get it? That’s why I do this to you, baby. I own you. You’re mine. If you don’t remember it this time, I’ll make sure you remember it the next.