Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
Bridger
Sunday dinner at my parents’ house was always eventful, and as much as I loved my family, I was grateful to get back home for some peace and quiet.
I had some work to catch up on, and I sat in my office staring at my computer screen as I glanced up at the large windows to see the snow coming down even harder now.
I lowered my readers and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I’d never get used to these damn things. I hated wearing glasses when I worked.
A loud noise had me jumping to my feet and moving to the window. I couldn’t see through the whiteout blocking my view, so I made my way to the front door, pulled on my snow boots, and tugged the large wood and metal door open.
A white car had slammed into my truck, the passenger door pressed against my back end.
I was jogging down my long driveway just as a woman stepped out of the car.
Emilia fucking Taylor.
There is no escaping this woman.
She turned to look at me, slammed her car door, and held her hands up. “My car skidded off the road.”
I took her in, the long dark hair falling around her shoulders covered in white snowflakes. She shivered as she pulled her camel-colored coat closed.
“I can see that.” I moved closer to assess the damage, and she took a step back. That’s when I noticed she was wearing heels as she slipped around in my driveway.
“I’ll call and file a report when I get home.” And then she turned and started walking down my driveway toward the road.
Was she fucking kidding me right now? There was a whiteout blizzard happening around us, and she was clearly freezing. Let alone sliding all over the place.
I didn’t like the woman, but I wouldn’t let her walk in the cold dark night alone.
“Hey, you can’t walk home in this weather,” I said as I jogged up behind her, just as she whipped around, most likely to tell me to fuck off, because it was clear she wasn’t a fan of mine.
But her momentum had her stumbling in those damn heels, and her arms flailed in front of her just as she started falling backward.
On instinct, I snaked an arm around her waist as she took us both down.
I was lying on top of Emilia Taylor in a mound of snow at the bottom of my driveway.
Not the way I saw tonight going.
“Fuck,” I said as I placed my hands on each side of her in the cold powder to keep my full body weight from crushing her.
“Get off me, you jackass!” she shouted.
“I just saved your ass from slamming your head on the ground. You’re welcome,” I said, pushing to stand and then extending a hand to help her get up.
It was cold as hell out. I was in just a white tee and gray joggers, and I noted her bare legs, since her coat had bunched up around her hips when she fell.
“I don’t need your help,” she hissed, ignoring my hand and pushing herself up, but she started to fall once again.
“For fuck’s sake, stop being a stubborn ass and take my goddamn hand.”
Her eyes widened, and I noticed the way her bottom lip trembled. “No. I’m walking home.”
I was done with this conversation.
I moved so fast she never saw me coming.
I tossed her over my shoulder, fireman-style, and made my way to my front door as she punched her little fists against my lower back.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked. “Put me down, now!”
I ignored her until we were inside, and I shut the door, just after a gust of wind had blasted through my foyer.
“It’s fucking cold. Your car clearly doesn’t have snow tires, and you’re not going to get very far in those damn shoes.”
She sighed as she ran her fingers through her long hair, now damp from the snow. “Are you that worried about getting your money to repair your truck? You’re going to hold me hostage?” She placed her hands on her hips. “I said I’d call and report the accident when I got home.”
“Hold you hostage? That’s a bit dramatic, Emilia.” I groaned, because I found her to be extremely aggravating. “I don’t give a shit about that. There’s a blizzard going on out there. Let’s just warm up and dry off, and I’ll give you a ride home.”
I made my way toward the kitchen, wondering if she’d follow or attempt to walk out the door. But I heard the sound of her heels clacking against my stone flooring.
I stopped in the kitchen and pulled out a few dish towels and set them on the counter for her. She didn’t say a word as she picked one up and used it to dry her face and hands. When she pushed the hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ears, I saw a gash on her forehead.
“Jesus. You’re bleeding.” I moved closer, inspecting the cut on her face.
Her hand moved there, and she shook her head, but no words came out.
And then her lip started quivering again, and she blinked up at me several times before tears started falling from her eyes. Her entire body was shaking now, and I moved to the great room, grabbed the flannel blanket from the couch, and came back to the kitchen.
I didn’t ask permission, as she was just standing in the middle of my kitchen sobbing. I unbuttoned her wet coat and tugged it off before wrapping the blanket around her. I reached for her hips and lifted her easily before setting her down on the counter.
She still didn’t say a word. I’d expected her to fight me, but it didn’t happen.
I moved to the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, wrapped it in a dish towel, and placed it in her hand before moving it to her forehead. “Keep this here. I know it’s cold. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
I turned on the electric teakettle and pulled out two mugs, since I was wet and cold as well.
The sound of the wind bustling outside my French doors to the backyard, mixed with her sobs, filled the kitchen.
I wasn’t sure what the hell to do, so I just kept my back to her as I dropped two tea bags in the mugs and then filled them with hot water.
I set her mug beside her, just as her whimpers came to an end.
“Since when do you wear glasses?” she asked before pulling the ice pack from her face and wrapping her hands around the warm cup.
I forgot I had these on. I took them off and set them on the counter. “They’re readers. I only wear them when I’m working.”
“Hmmm… what do you read? Books about how to successfully torture other people?” Her lips twitched the slightest bit, and I rolled my eyes.
“I’m hardly torturing you now,” I grunted, taking a sip of my tea.
She wiped at her eyes and sniffed a few times. “Sorry for crying. I’m just having a bad day.”
“You don’t have to apologize for crying. It happens.” I cleared my throat. It felt weird to have her in my home. I’d never been alone in a confined space with Emilia Taylor. “You could apologize for returning a perfectly good toilet, though.”
She chuckled. “And you could apologize for being a complete dick to me for—well, for as long as I can remember, if I’m being honest.”
My lips flattened and my nostrils flared as I moved to stand closer to her. “Why is this apology so important to you?”
“The bigger question is, why is it so difficult for you to just give it to me?”
I placed a hand on each side of the kitchen island where she sat, my face so close to hers that her warm breath tickled my cheek.
“I sent you a peace offering, Emilia.” My voice was gruff, and I had no idea why. Maybe it was the jasmine and vanilla flooding my senses.
“Why do you hate me so much?” she asked, her voice shaking as the words left her mouth.
I took a step back as I ran a hand through my hair. “Listen, I thought you wrote the fucking column. All signs pointed to you. And I admit that I was wrong about that. But this shit started with you, and it started a long time ago.”
Her gaze narrowed as she reached for her cup of tea; she took a sip before setting it back down. The cut on her forehead wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it was definitely going to bruise. I could see it had swollen up just in the time she’d been sitting here.
“Started with me?” She shook her head with disbelief. “How did it start with me?”
“You’ve always had it out for me.” I stepped forward again, reaching for the ice pack. “Put this back on your forehead. It’s swelling.”
She rolled her eyes, but she did as I asked. “How have I ever had it out for you?”
“In high school. You snitched on me for ditching school, and I had to spend three Saturdays cleaning up the school parking lot.”
Her eyes widened. “You think I told on you? How would I know that you ditched school?”
“I don’t fucking know. You couldn’t even look at me after that. You’d always look away, which is a sign of guilt.”
“Oh my gosh, that was years ago, and frankly I don’t even really remember the whole thing.
” She shook her head as she set the ice pack down beside her.
“You’re so far off base on this one. And you’ve literally been horrible to me all this time, for yet again, something that I didn’t do. You’re unbelievable.”
She pushed off the counter, folded the blanket up, and set it down next to her mug.
My eyes scanned the emerald green dress hugging her curves perfectly.
She was stunning. It pissed me off. And then she grabbed her coat and pulled it on in a huff.
She stormed toward the door, pissed off once again, and I followed.
“Hey,” I said, wrapping my hand around her forearm and turning her to face me. “You aren’t going back out there. I said I’d drive you. Just finish the goddamn conversation.”
“You know what, Bridger?”
I raised a brow, because clearly the question didn’t require a response. So I waited.
“I just spent four hours this evening being insulted by my mother. I don’t need to be insulted by a guy who doesn’t even know a single thing about me.
So fuck you and your ride home. I’d rather die of hypothermia while walking out in the cold than get in a car with you,” she shouted as tears began to stream down her face once again.
She’d obviously found my comment about her snitching on me to be offensive.
“What don’t I know about you, Emilia? Are you claiming you weren’t coming out of Principal Bryant’s office that day when they walked me in?
Because I saw you there. And you wouldn’t look at me, if memory serves.
Not that I even fucking care all these years later.
It was just a time that I’d realized you had it out for me.
So, of course I assumed you wrote the goddamn column, because I thought maybe you had it out for my entire family.
And I have admitted that I was wrong about the column. ”
She sniffed a few times, swiping at her face, lip quivering uncontrollably.
“I was coming out of his office because Cami Rogers was a bully, and she’d taped a note on my locker for the hundredth time that morning.
Someone reported it to Principal Bryant, and he called me in.
And I still didn’t tell on her. I said I didn’t know who did it, because I just wanted to be left alone. ”
Cami Rogers was my girlfriend back then. She’d ditched school with me the day before. Why would she be bullying Emilia?
“What did the notes say?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
She turned toward the door again, and I moved so fast that she startled when I got in front of her and stood with my back against the door. “What did the notes say?”
She shrugged. “‘Loser. Sad sack. Only lonely.’”
“What? Why would she say that to you?” I asked, because I genuinely didn’t know. Emilia had always been shy, and she kept to herself. But she was very well liked, from what I remembered. I’d assumed she was nosy and a rule follower, so it made sense that she would report me.
Her head fell back on a long sigh, and she threw her hands in the air.
“Cami and I were friends before she started dating you. She lived next door to me. We both had a crush on you at the same time our freshman year, and we’d always talk about it.
But then Cami made the cheer team junior year, and she grew some big ole boobs and got popular out of nowhere.
So when she started dating you, she decided that I was enemy number one. ”
What. The. Fuck.
Archer was right about her having a crush on me?
“So why wouldn’t you look at me? You’d always look away, like you wanted nothing to do with me,” I said, rubbing my face.
“Have you never had a crush on anyone, Bridger?” she hissed. “Especially someone who is dating a girl who is making your life a living hell. Not looking at you was my safest option.”
My tongue slipped out and moved along my bottom lip as I processed her words.
I’d been wrong about Emilia Taylor writing “The Taylor Tea,” and then again about snitching on me back in high school.
I’d been a complete asshole to this girl.
For no reason at all.
I really was the world’s biggest dick.
I stepped closer, knowing that even if it made me uncomfortable, I owed it to her.
I placed a hand beneath her chin and tipped her head up. Tears still streamed down her face. Her dark blue eyes were flanked by long black lashes as they finally locked with mine.
“I’m sorry for being an asshole, over and over again. I was wrong.” My chest tightened as the words left my mouth. “I’m sorry, Emilia.”
Apologies had never come easy for me.
But I knew I owed her one.
And there was no gift that would replace these words.
She blinked a few times, and her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
It was all she’d wanted. Because she wasn’t the enemy at all.