Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
Bridger
Easton
Bridger, something you want to tell us, brother?
Sure. You text too much. You talk too much. You share too much.
Rafe
I think he’s referring to something else.
Clark
Oh, he’s definitely referring to something else. I just heard all about it this morning.
Axel
Do tell.
Archer
I don’t have time for games. Melody has an art class this morning, and I lost some time sitting on the fancy toilet that Bridger sent over.
Easton
Bridger finally apologized, and the girls are back to playing pickleball.
This required a text?
Clark
I believe it did. This big news made it to the city this morning. I just heard about it.
Rafe
Fuck, yeah. When was the last time you apologized to anyone.
I apologize to mom all the time.
Axel
She doesn’t count. You have a soft spot for her. Last time you apologized to anyone else.
Easton
I don’t believe he’s ever apologized to me.
Maybe I’ve never had reason to apologize.
Archer
Can we go back to the actual topic. How did you apologize to her? The toilet was a failure (although me and my toasty ass aren’t complaining).
Easton
I heard it was quite the epic apology. It started with a car crash.
Rafe
Way to bring the drama, Bridger.
Axel
You crashed into her car? For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong with you?
She slid on the ice driving home last night and ended up hitting my truck in my driveway. I’m dealing with that mess now.
Archer
So she crashed into your truck and that made you finally apologize?
Axel
I’m going to need more details.
Clark
She hit his truck and then he drove her home, and he apologized.
Rafe
Yep. That’s what I heard too. The ban on pickleball has been lifted all because our boy said those two little words.
Easton
You sure made that difficult. It was two simple words. Proud of you brother.
For fuck’s sake. It wasn’t that big of a deal.
Archer
Yet, we all suffered playing pickleball because you wouldn’t do it.
Axel
I’m just trying to figure out what made him finally say the words. He’d refused all this time, and then suddenly she crashes her car into his and he buckles.
I didn’t buckle, dickhead.
Clark
So why the turnaround?
Damn, you fuckers are relentless.
Easton
Waiting…
She fucking cried. Turns out she never had it out for me. She didn’t turn me in in high school either.
Archer
Let me get this straight. You’ve had a vendetta against this girl since high school, and I told you for years she didn’t turn you in, but now you finally get it?
Correct. I didn’t believe you.
Rafe
You are one stubborn fucker.
I appreciate that. Nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.
Clark
Does this mean that Emilia can sub for me in pickleball when Eloise and I can’t make it?
Easton
Isn’t she terrible at pickleball?
Archer
Don’t be a dick. She’s been tortured by Bridger for years. If she wants to play, let the girl play. Everyone else can just work a little harder to cover for her… lack of skills.
Easton
If she plays, then you’re dealing with it, Bridger.
Why am I dealing with it? I apologized. My work is done.
Rafe
Doesn’t it feel good to put this anger to rest?
I hadn’t noticed.
Archer
Well, either way I’m out this week. Henley is covering me.
Clark
Me and Eloise will be traveling, so with Lulu and Rafe playing together, I think Emilia might have to be my replacement.
Easton
Bridger, you best bring your a-game because she will be your partner, and we can’t lose again. You fuckers already cost us last week’s game. I am not here to lose. Step the fuck up.
Archer
Gee, this sounds like a barrel of fun. Sorry I have to miss it.
Axel
That’s not sarcasm I detect, is it?
I set my phone down when I heard the tow truck pull up outside. I’d told Emilia that I’d handle it. Apparently, now that it was officially December, all the holiday shoppers were out in full force.
I wasn’t a shopper.
I shopped online.
And if I was being totally honest, I told Brenner what to buy, and he shopped online for me.
I walked outside to see Bert Johnson circling the scene of the crime. He whistled when he looked up. He owned Rosewood Auto Body, and he often towed the cars himself, as he was a bit of a control freak.
People joked about it, but I didn’t find anything wrong with it.
I was a control freak myself, so I understood it.
“She slid right off the road, huh? Lucky she didn’t end up rolling her car and getting hurt. The roads are finally getting cleared this morning, so we can get this over to the shop and get both of these fixed in no time. The damage isn’t too bad.”
The snow had stopped falling, but there was still a bite in the air. The temperatures were dropping, and the tourists would be hitting Rosewood River for the winter season from now through March.
“Yep. She had a good gash on her forehead, but otherwise she was okay.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“So how do you want to do this? Should I bill you each separately? Did you file insurance claims?”
“Nah. No sense getting our rates jacked up. This isn’t much. Just send me the bill, and you can drop her car off to her when it’s ready.”
I assumed Emilia only had one car, so I did wonder how she’d get around.
“All right, Bridger. You got it. I’ll be in touch,” the older man said as two of his employees worked on getting the cars on the tow truck.
I jogged inside and decided to handle this like a business transaction. I’d let her know the update. I had to go downtown anyway, and I assumed I was allowed to enter her shop now that I’d apologized.
Her car had been in my driveway, after all.
I finished up a call with Brenner, and once Bert and his guys were clear, I hopped in my SUV and made my way downtown.
I parked near the flower shop and walked the short distance to the Vintage Rose. When I pulled the door open, the smell of flowers and pine filled the air around me.
Two customers stood at the counter, and Beatrice looked up and smirked at me. She’d grown up in Rosewood River as well. “Welcome. I hear the ban has been lifted, and you’re allowed to enter the shop again.”
I rolled my eyes as the two women at the counter laughed.
I looked up to see Emilia carrying a large arrangement out from a back room before setting it on the counter. A huge bruise covered the large bump on her forehead.
Wow. It was worse than I’d expected.
One of the women at the counter took her arrangement and headed for the door. I pushed it open and held it for her before turning back and studying Emilia’s bruise.
“Hey,” she said, as if she was surprised to see me. Beatrice was busy talking with the other woman at the counter. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, your car was sitting in my driveway, so I assumed you’d like to know how it is.”
“Oh, yes. I was going to come over after work and see if it was drivable.”
“Bert just picked it up, and he’ll call you when it’s ready,” I said, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans.
Her eyes widened, and her shoulders stiffened. “Oh. I was hoping it wouldn’t need work.”
“The side is smashed in, Emilia.”
“I’m aware, I just thought it might still be fine to drive, and I’d have it fixed at a later date,” she said, clearing her throat. “Should we call our insurance companies?”
“No. Not unless you want your rates to go up. It won’t take much to fix it,” I said, and she nodded, but I saw the panic there.
What was I missing?
“I know you’re still saving up for those snow tires, but I don’t think it’s safe to drive that car without them, Em.” Beatrice paused from what she was doing and gave her this motherly look that I was familiar with.
Emilia pinched the bridge of her nose and then winced, and I assumed it was from the pain from the bump on her forehead.
“Did you get that thing looked at yet?” I asked, motioning to her face.
She pursed her lips. “Well, let’s see, I got a ride home from you after the incident last night, and I woke up and came straight here—so that’s a hard no. It’s fine. It’s a bump. It’ll heal.”
“I said the same thing,” Beatrice chimed in once again, and Emilia shot her a look, and she turned her attention back to her client.
“All right, thank you for taking care of that. Obviously, I will cover the bill for both my car and your car.” She fiddled with her hands, which was normally a tell that someone was nervous.
“Don’t worry about the cars. Bert owed me a favor, so there’s no charge.” The lie rolled off my lips so easily it even caught me by surprise.
“What? There’s no charge?”
“Nope. I helped him with a few things for his business, and he owed me a favor,” I said. “He’ll call you before he drops it off.”
Her mouth opened, as if she was about to say something, and then she stopped herself and shrugged. The door chimed behind me as someone else entered the flower shop.
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, Emilia. You crashed your car?
And I had to hear about it from Tawny when I stopped in for coffee this morning?
” Margaret Taylor, Emilia’s mother, said.
Tawny Johnson was Bert’s wife. News traveled fast in Rosewood River, and the Taylors were always in the know, as they owned the Rosewood River Review .
“Mom, it’s fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”
I waited for her mother to freak out when she noticed the lump on her forehead. But her reaction was not what I expected. “Look at your face,” she gasped. “Well, you won’t be getting any dates looking like that, will you?”
What the actual fuck.
Emilia’s gaze moved to mine, and her cheeks pinked.
My hands fisted at my side for the way her mother was speaking to her.
“Hey, I really think you should get that looked at, all right?” I said, knocking my knuckles against the counter.
“It’ll be fine,” Emilia said, her smile forced.
I walked to the door and pushed it open, just as I heard her mother’s voice.
“That’s the last thing you need is doctor bills. You need tires on that car, and this is why you are in no position to be starting up this silly new company. You’ve got your hands full. No more daydreaming, Emilia.”
What the fuck was wrong with this woman.
Trust me, I was no walk in the park. I wasn’t the most thoughtful guy on the planet, and I knew that.
But mothers were supposed to be loving and encouraging.
I knew this because I had the best one around.
I realized in this moment that I’d misjudged Emilia Taylor more times than I could count.
I picked up my phone and dialed Bert’s auto shop.
“Rosewood Auto Body,” he said. “This is Bert.”
“Hey, it’s Bridger Chadwick.”
“The truck isn’t ready yet—I just got it here.” He laughed.
“I know. No rush on mine. But can you add a set of snow tires on Emilia Taylor’s car, and get that to her as soon as possible? I’ll pay for rush service.”
“Yeah, of course. You got it. And I’m billing this to you?”
“You are. But she thinks you owe me a favor, so let’s keep it that way.”
“Not a problem. I’ll have this to her in a few days,” he said. “We’re crazy busy with accidents from the snowstorm, but we’ll get you in there as fast as we can.”
“Appreciate it.”
I ended the call with Bert and made one more to Brenner.
There was one more thing I needed to take care of.