19. Bridgette
Bridgette
L ast night was a total disaster. A complete shitshow. A clusterfuck of epic proportions.
And it’s completely my fault. I’m not being dramatic when I say that. I’m taking ownership, and that’s something I should have done about two months ago when I found out that the man I was falling for was the one man on campus I really shouldn’t want.
I should have been honest with my brother, but I couldn’t be, because I knew he’d feel like I betrayed him.
I knew he’d be hurt. I knew my actions had the power to change our relationship forever, and since Bran has always been the most important person in the world to me, that thought was terrifying.
My deepest fears are coming true, and they’re just as catastrophic as I imagined.
Most of last night is still a bit of a blur. I should never have snuck inside with Dutton, but I couldn’t resist a few stolen hours with him. We kissed and talked and made love, and I fell asleep wondering what I ever did to deserve someone like him.
I awoke to the sound of shouting, so I crawled out of Dutton’s bed to see what was going on. When I got to the door, I saw my brother, and the next second, I saw his fist flying through the air and colliding with my boyfriend’s face.
What followed was an absolute mess. Between the shouting and the crowd that gathered, it’s safe to say that the whole team—maybe even the whole campus—knows that I’m dating Dutton Wagner.
While I wish things had gone differently, I’m grateful to Ollie for managing to calm my brother down and ice his hand. And I owe Blue free haircuts for a year for helping me take care of Dutton. His nose isn’t broken, but he’ll be sporting a black eye for the next few weeks.
Right now, I’m sitting in the main living room, clutching a lukewarm cup of coffee and waiting for Bran to come downstairs.
Dutton left to visit his parents. He offered to stay, but facing Bran and owning up to my mistakes is something I need to do by myself.
It’s mid-morning, so the whole house should be waking up soon.
Liza’s working some fancy brunch for a catering company, and Ollie and Fallon left their room long enough to make some breakfast and then they went back in.
They offered to feed me, but my stomach is a bundle of nerves right now.
I’ve barely touched my coffee, even though Ollie gave me the good creamer.
I’ve scrolled through my phone for so long that my battery is almost dead.
I organized my weekly calendar and set up reminder texts for all of my appointments.
I sent a text to my little brother wishing him good luck at his robotics competition today, and I confirmed my final fitting for the bridesmaid’s dress I’m wearing for my cousin’s wedding in a few weeks.
I’ve done literally everything I can possibly do except start folding laundry or mopping the floors.
Luckily, I’m saved from resorting to household chores when I see my brother walking into the room. I want to wrap him in a bear hug, but when I see the bruise marring the left side of his face, I gasp audibly. “What the hell happened to your face?” I ask.
“Your boyfriend hit me,” he says, barely sparing me a glance as he crosses the room.
“No, you hit him,” I correct, cringing because I sound mad.
I mean, I am mad, but more at myself than anyone else.
Bran starts talking, so I turn my head to find him pouring coffee at the kitchen counter.
He doesn’t ask me if I need a refill. Not that he should, but he always does.
And that is definitely not a real problem right now, but it stings all the same.
It’s a small but not insignificant reminder that things aren’t the same between us.
My brother sighs as he hovers in the archway that separates the kitchen and living room. “I hit him last night,” he says, “but he got me good this morning. Truth is, I probably deserved it.”
“You didn’t. I?—”
Brannon’s words roll right over mine. “I said something I shouldn’t have. I asked him if he was with you just to fuck with my head.”
I wince because those words cut me on so many levels.
“It was a shitty thing to say, and I’m sorry. It didn’t come out right and, well,” he says, laughing dryly as he points to his shiner, “your boyfriend set me straight.”
“Bran,” I say, my voice breaking as I set my cup down on the coffee table. I need to go to him, to apologize, to figure out how to fix this, but his next words have me sinking back down into the couch.
“I know, I just…can’t right now. I need some time, some space. I just— Dutton Fucking Wagner ? Seriously? You couldn’t have picked anyone else? It just had to be the guy who’s been making my life hell for two years?” Bran asks, rubbing his temples.
“I didn’t—” I begin, but Bran’s already halfway out the door.
“I need to go,” he says, his eyes finally meeting mine just before he walks out of the house.
I’m staring at the door as though I can will him back inside and beg him to listen. But I can’t. No matter how much I need to talk, Bran needs and deserves the time and space he asked for.
The squeak of sneakers on the tile floor has me looking up to see Blue standing in the entryway, looking like he just got back from the gym.
“You ok?” he asks, even though the answer is obvious.
I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes and my face is streaked with dried tears.
There’s drama at the hockey house, and I’m in the middle of it.
No, I’m the cause of it. I’m not the kind of person who likes to be the center of attention, so no, I am definitely not okay.
But instead of rambling incoherently, I do my best to smile and nod. “I’m fine.”
Blue laughs. “You’re a terrible liar, Bridgette.”
He’s not wrong, but I just take a breath before taking a sip of my tepid coffee.
“Do you mind if I stay here a little longer? Dutton went to see his folks, but I’m actually waiting for Liza.
She should be back around noon. We’re working on a project for our psych class.
Actually, maybe I should go home and change. I?—”
“Do you like French toast?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Doesn’t really matter. I like it enough for both of us. Come with me. We can head to the diner and get some breakfast. They serve it all day.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” I protest. “Liza won’t be too much longer and?—”
“And you want to spend the next hour and a half sitting here and watching as the rest of my housemates walk down the steps? Sounds thrilling. Or are you going to stare at the door and hope your brother comes back? He will, but it might take him a minute to get his head out of his ass. So come on, let’s fuel up.
If you’re going to spend the afternoon with Liza, you probably need to carb-load so you can fend off her evil spirits,” he says with a visible shudder.
The walk to the diner is quick, but that might have something to do with the cooler temperatures.
November is here, and my first semester at Bainbridge will be over before too long.
We find a booth near the back that’s not too far from where I was sitting the night I first spotted Dutton here last spring.
I had no clue who he was, of course. I only cataloged him in my mind as Hot Diner Guy.
I’m not going to admit that to Blue, though, because it would make me sound crazy.
Our server stops by with coffee, and Blue rattles off an order big enough to feed three people.
When she turns toward me, I ask for an omelet.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, she looks at me quizzically.
“You didn’t order the French toast? It’s the best thing on the menu.
Possibly the best thing in the world. Fine, I’ll share mine, and I want you to know that I don’t do that for just anyone.
I like you, Bridgette. You’re good for him. ”
His words surprise me, even though I’ve heard them before.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, smiling. “Unlike my best friend, I get along with just about everyone, except for Liza, but that’s complicated.”
It seems to me like there are a lot of complicated relationships at the hockey house, but I keep that thought to myself.
“I know you do, and I’m glad you think I’m good for Dutton, but I’d understand if you changed your mind after last night.
After the last few weeks, really. It was completely unfair of me to ask Dutton to hide our relationship.
He was right. We should have been honest in the beginning, but I know that wouldn’t have gone well, either.
I just know I made a bad situation worse, and I feel awful about it. ”
Blue leans back against the booth and looks at me. “Wow. Are you always this hard on yourself?”
“Uh, when it’s warranted, yes. I appreciate that you’re being so nice, and I am glad you got me out of the house, or I’d still be sitting there feeling miserable, but there’s no escaping the reality of the situation. There’s tension in the hockey house, and I’m the reason,” I begin.
Blue rolls his eyes. “You’re not the only reason. This shit between the two of them has been in the works since freshman year. We were on rival teams. Your brother’s easy to rattle, and my best friend is a world-class shit-stirrer. You did not create this problem.”
I let his words sink in as our server sets down several platters of food. Blue digs in, and I munch on a piece of bacon because I’m suddenly starving. “Okay, I see your point, but I definitely made things worse by insisting that Dutton and I hide our relationship.”
Blue nods, chewing as he considers my statement. “So why’d you do it, then? Why sneak around? I mean, it had to be hot at first, but after a while, didn’t it get annoying?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “But there was never a good time to tell Bran, and there was always a reason not to. This isn’t an excuse, but I knew he wouldn’t take the news well, so I just kept putting it off. That was cowardly.”
“I wonder where the line is between cowardice and self-preservation,” he muses before shoving a giant bite of French toast into his mouth.
“Look, family dynamics are a freaking minefield. I know that firsthand, believe me, but here’s some free advice you didn’t ask for: own your shit, make things right with your brother when he’s ready for it, but don’t let guilt weigh you down.
It might seem like a good idea at the time, it might feel like you're making up for whatever damage you think you caused, but in the end, it doesn’t really do you any good.
What I’m saying is, don’t let that stop you from enjoying all the good you’ve got going on right now.
Sparky and I have been friends our whole lives, and I’ve never seen him this happy. “
“He makes me happy, too. I don’t know what things will look like in the future, but?—”
“Damn. Did you listen to a word I said?” he asks, his brow raised. “Nobody ever knows the future, Bridgette, but it’s no secret that Sparky is fucking gone for you. He has been since he saw you right here in this diner last March.”
My eyes must be as big as dinner plates, because Blue quickly corrects himself.
“I mean, right there in that coffee shop where you met a couple months ago,” he says, his attention suddenly on the little jelly packs in the plastic tray on our table.
“That really was you guys? After the game?”
Blue narrows his eyes at me. “I have no clue what you are talking about.”
“Bullshit. The two of you were in that booth,” I say, pointing across the aisle.
“Dutton kept looking in my direction. I didn’t know who he was back then.
And at first, I wasn’t sure if he thought I looked familiar or what, but then I got a call from Bran and I had to leave.
When we met up at the coffee shop a few months ago, he looked so familiar.
I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was him, but I guess it was. ”
“Yep,” Blue nods. “He told me to find a ride back to the hotel because he was planning to walk up to your table to meet you. I was giving him shit because he smiles like a rabid dog. He was getting ready to approach you when you dashed out of here. I don’t know if it’s fate or what, but you two make each other happy, so hang onto that.
” He punctuates his wisdom with a gulp of coffee, then sets his fork on one of the empty plates. “Do you want dessert?” he asks.
Ten minutes later, we’re at the hockey house with a box of donuts. Blue sets it on the counter, gives me a smile, and then wards Liza off by making a cross with his index fingers.
Liza is not amused.
She offers me a hug before opening the bakery box. “Blue didn’t spit on these, did he? Or dump them on the sidewalk and then stick them back in this box like nothing ever happened?”
“Nope,” I answer. “They are perfectly safe to eat. I promise.”
“Good, because I’m starving,” she says, taking a bite. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that asshat,” she tells me, tilting her head in the direction of the stairs, since that’s where Blue was headed.
“Actually, he was pretty great. I know you two don’t always see eye-to-eye, but maybe you?—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Liza warns. “Ugh. Let’s not even joke about that.”