25. Bridgette
Bridgette
“ I got your text,” I say, standing in my brother’s doorway. There’s a suitcase on the bed, and also a duffel. There’s also a pile of clothing stacked so high I’m surprised it hasn’t hit the ceiling fan.
“Come on in,” he says, gesturing to the chair in the corner. It’s piled high with more clothing, so I just lean against the wall.
“Sorry,” he says, his cheeks turning red. “I can move my shit. “
“It’s fine,” I insist, but when he clears a spot for me at the end of the bed, I take it. Bran and I have barely spoken in the past two weeks, so when he sent me a message asking if I had time to talk, I abandoned my own packing party and came right over.
Horrible Jocelyn's wedding is in two days, and I imagine Mickey is driving out after tomorrow afternoon’s game, just like Dutton and I are.
I doubt he’s dreading the nuptials as much as I am, but he’s probably not looking forward to them.
Going home is never easy for either of us, but we always have each other.
After his reaction to my relationship with Dutton, I’m not so sure anymore.
“I’ve been a total prick,” my brother says without preamble.
“A colossal fucking dick. And I’m sorry.
I’m truly sorry, Birdie. I get it if it takes you time to forgive me.
I know I need to earn your trust back. But I don’t want you thinking you have to go into the fucking lions’ den alone this weekend. ”
“I won’t be alone,” I tell him. “I’ll have Dutton.
” My words aren’t sharp or accusatory, but I’m not surprised they make him wince.
I have to be honest, though. That’s really how this whole mess started in the first place.
I was so scared of the potential fallout that I lied by omission and snuck around.
That wasn’t fair to any of us, and I can’t backslide.
Bran doesn’t have to like that I’m dating Dutton, but he does have to deal with it.
“I know you do,” he says, a slight edge to his voice. “I just didn’t know if he was aware of the shit show that is our family.”
“He is. And he’s got my back the same way you always have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want your support. You’re my brother, Bran. My twin. My first friend and my best friend. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry, too.”
“I just don’t get it,” he says, frustration seeping through his every movement. “I know I don’t have to. I know it’s none of my fucking business. But part of me worries that you got so used to being treated like shit by the terrible trio that you’re with a guy who’s gonna do the same thing.”
I’m so stunned that it takes me a minute to find my words.
“Bran, I need you to believe me when I tell you that Dutton Wagner is the kindest man I’ve ever met.
He’s so good to me. He treats me like I’m the only person in his universe.
He’s ready to throw down with any relative who dares to look at me funny or make a snide comment. ”
Bran looks like he wants to call bullshit, but he holds himself back. “If you say so, but I need you to promise me that if he ever doesn’t treat you right, if he doesn’t treat you like a fucking queen, you leave. You deserve the best, Birdie. Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt that.”
The fierceness in Bran’s voice softens my heart a little.
It’s obvious that he wants the best for me, and that he doesn’t think Dutton measures up.
“I’ll make that promise,” I assure him. “But I want you to promise me that you’ll give him a chance to prove himself.
I know you have your reasons for doubting him, and I’m not excusing any of the shit he pulled with you, but will you try to see him for the man he really is? ”
Silence stretches between us, but when I see my brother nod, my whole body relaxes.
“I’ll try,” he says, “But I swear, if he?—”
I cut Bran off before he gets too worked up. “Thank you,” I say, wrapping him in a hug. “Now, what’s first? Am I helping you to finish packing or am I trimming your hair? Because you have four shirts in that suitcase, and no pants, but you also have a hairstyle that’s rivaling Blue’s.”
Bran smirks at me. “Pack first and then I’ll take you up on that offer of a haircut. Unless you think we should start with?—”
“You called it. First we pack, then we shape up this mop,” I tease. Things aren’t totally back to normal, but I think we might be getting somewhere. If we can make it through the weekend without a fistfight or a shouting match, I’ll call it a win.
We’ve been on the road for an hour and I’ve been trying to get some sleep while Dutton’s behind the wheel, but it’s no use.
After working all morning at the salon and cheering my ass off at the game this afternoon, I’m exhausted.
And since I know I'll be out late at the rehearsal dinner tonight, I really could use a nap right now. My brain and body know this, but anxiety just isn’t having it.
“You doing okay over there?” Dutton asks, giving my thigh a squeeze.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “It’ll be fine. And in a little over twenty-four hours, we’ll be back in Bainbridge.” That's what I keep telling myself. We’re only going for a day. I can survive my family for just a day. Besides, it’s not some random day. It’s a wedding. They’ll all be busy and distracted.
“It will be fine,” he agrees. “And if it isn’t, we’ll leave.”
I laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement even though I know he’s not joking. “We won’t leave until the reception is over,” I say for the four hundredth time.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, chuckling for a second before going silent. “Wait, is that your brother?” Dutton asks, pulling over to the side of the road before I can even answer his question.
We’re both out of Dutton’s SUV a few seconds later, watching as Mickey pops the hood of his car and sticks his head under it. My brother knows as much about cars as I do, so I know he’s staring at the inner workings of his engine right now with no clue about what’s gone wrong.
“You need a hand?” Dutton asks, striding up next to Mickey. I watch as my brother turns, ready to accept any offer of help.
Until he recognizes the source.
“Nah, it’s fine,” my brother says, despite the fact that he’s got his hazard lights on and his car’s not running.
Dutton raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? Can you drive it?”
“It just needs some motor oil,” Mickey says with way more confidence than he has any right to. “Or a battery. Or something.”
“Jesus,” Dutton mutters, but there’s no heat behind his tone. “Why don’t you get behind the wheel and try to turn it over. I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
My brother looks like he’s about to argue, but then he looks at me and keeps his mouth shut.
That’s progress.
He gets into the vehicle, and that’s when I notice he’s not alone.
Sitting in the passenger seat of my brother’s car is Viv MacDonald.
But there’s no time to interrogate Bran about why he’s headed to our cousin’s wedding with Viv.
That fun little game will have to wait until later.
For now, I'm watching as Bran attempts to turn the car on, but instead of roaring to life, it just wheezes and whines.
After a few tries, Dutton holds up his hand and shakes his head before reaching into his pocket for his phone.
“What’s the diagnosis?” I ask, joining Dutton as he shuts the hood of the car. Mickey steps up next to both of us, and I know it’s killing him that Dutton’s acting so normal.
“It’s the alternator, no doubt,” Dutton answers, looking first at my b.
It shouldn’t take long to fix, maybe a couple days at most. I just messaged my cousin Nick.
He’ll be by with the tow truck later, and he’ll take it back to the shop at Miles Motors.
My dad’s the lead mechanic there. He’s not working right now, but you’re still in good hands.
We should move your bags into my car, though, so we can all get on the road. ”
My brother blinks at the man in front of him, like he just cannot reconcile the idea that Dutton Wagner is a good guy. He is, though, and I hope that Bran begins to see that.
We pile into Dutton’s car and pull back out onto the highway. We’re all quiet for a bit because it’s an awkward car trip, and when I can’t take it anymore, I break the silence and turn to Viv. “Did my brother kidnap you?”
“Ouch, Birdie,” Bran says, wincing. Way to hit a guy when he’s down.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” I say, unable to hold back my laughter. “I just can’t think of any other reason someone would willingly spend time with our family.”
Mickey shrugs. “Fair point, but that’s not the reason.
Mom and Aunt Patti are trying to set me up with one of the bridesmaids, so I figured the best way to get out of that disastrous date would be to bring along a plus-one.
And since Vivi’s competition season hasn’t started up, we figured it would all work out, and it did.
And, uh,” he adds, clearing his throat. ”Thanks for the ride. ”
Dutton just nods. Okay, so we haven’t quite reached the warm and fuzzy level, but no one’s resorted to violence yet, so I think that’s a good sign.
Dutton is quiet on the short drive from the rehearsal dinner back to our hotel.
My cousin Jocelyn wanted a seaside wedding in November, so that’s what she’s getting.
I don’t understand the appeal of a windy beachy and chilly temps, but I do appreciate the fact that the beach resort is about an hour away from our hometown, making it totally impractical for all of us to stay at my parents’ place.
Being with my family for a weekend wedding is bad enough.
Staying in the same house would be torture.
Dinner was long, and my family was infuriating, but there was an open bar and the meal was both free and delicious, so I’m trying to remind myself of the positives.
The negatives. Ugh. Sitting in a room with all my relatives catapulted me back in time, and for a minute, I felt like I was suffocating.
But Dutton was with me, and Mickey was running interference, so the night wasn’t nearly as awful as it could have been.
I made polite small talk when it was required, but otherwise, I stayed under the judgmental radar of my mom, my aunt, and my cousin.
When we step into our room, I expect Dutton to start stripping—not just because it’s sexy, but because that’s his typical routine.
He runs hot, and I don’t mind the view. But instead of stepping out of his shoes or even loosening the tie around his throat, he walks to the closet before turning back to me.
“Do you remember last week when I tore your shirt off before I made you come on my cock?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I answer. It’s not something I’m likely to forget as long as I live.
Dutton nods, then reaches into the hotel closet and holds up my bridesmaid dress. “Good. Because I can do it again, right here and right now. And then we can get the hell out of here and on the road back to Bainbridge.”
As tempting as that sounds, it’s not going to happen. “I can’t skip the wedding!”
“Yes, you can,” Dutton insists. “I’ve got a driver’s license and a car that’s parked out front.
In twenty minutes, we can be on the highway.
But it’s your call. If you really think we have to stay, then we need a code word for tomorrow.
Say…fuck, I don’t know…say the word waltz and we’re out of here.
I have never seen you shrink like you did at that restaurant, and I never want to see it again.
You deserve to take up space, Dove, and if they don’t agree, fuck ‘em.”
I wish Bran could see him now. Looping my arms around his neck, I look into his eyes. “Unfortunately, we have to play nice for twenty-four more hours, and then we can say fuck ‘em. Trust me, it'll be worse if we leave.“
“Fine,” he grumbles, rehanging my dress. “But it pisses me off. No fucking wonder Mickey thought I'd dick you over. He's been watching people treat you like shit your whole life.”
“Believe it or not,” I say, loosening his tie with my own hands, “they really do think they’re helping.”
“Don’t do that,” he says, taking the tie and tossing it on the bed. “Don’t make excuses for their piss-poor behavior.”
“Well, if I’m not doing that, what should I be doing?” I ask, eyeing the necktie on the bed.
“I’ve got some ideas,” Dutton tells me, unbuttoning his shirt and leading me toward the bed.
He spends the next hour showing me just how creative he can be, and it’s exactly the distraction I need.