Chapter Fifteen
Bridgette
“Maggie!” I call out as she storms through the doors, practically running back inside.
My stomach is in knots, and I feel tears begin to build in my eyes as I turn to see Asher striding towards me.
“What? Scared your new sister is gonna rat you out to daddy?”
I’m trained practically from birth to worship the ground that the Putnam’s walk on, and I have, diligently. It wasn’t always for his benefit, though, I’ve had a plan of my own for years, but right now, none of that matters. In this moment, I feel like scum of the earth and if Asher doesn’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to claw his goddamn eyes out.
“I have to go,” I say, dropping my eyes so he hopefully doesn’t see the building tears. Not like he’d care.
“Whatever. Keep your phone on. Missed that mouth,” he says as he brushes past me like my entire purpose in life is to service him.
In his head, it is.
For a moment, I pause. How did things get so fucked so fast? Maggie went to the bathroom and Mercy and Angela started laying into me. They didn’t like how I laughed when Maggie absolutely annihilated Mercy and they started throwing out heinous accusations.
And a few that were a little too close to the truth.
Asher was walking by and I panicked. I threw myself at him to get them off the trail they were all over. It worked too. After almost two months of staying away from Asher Putnam, of becoming an individual and not a groupie, I almost forgot what it was like to be in his orbit. As far as I thought I had come, as done as I was with him, it was almost too easy to slip into the role of desperate to please him. He just so happened to be in the mood to take me up on it, right that second.
He grabbed my hand and led me out to the back before pushing me to my knees. For a moment, I paused, unsure this is what I wanted. Scratch that, I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. As soon as I looked up at him from my knees, guilt gnawed at me like a feral animal and I wanted to physically be sick. Just twenty-four hours ago, I had the most amazing date with Maggie, followed by the most amazing night. Now here I was, on my knees waiting to suck the cock of an asshole who has never given two fucks about me.
I still did it, though. When he told me to hurry up and take it out, I pushed my guilt to the side and did as I was told for two reasons.
One, he’s a Putnam. Period.
Two, if I didn’t, he would talk. He’d complain and tell everyone and then everyone would be wondering why I passed up an opportunity to have Asher’s attention on me. They’d ask questions and snoop and dig until…I couldn’t let that happen.
So, I closed my eyes, sucked him into my mouth and prayed the entire time that Maggie would never find out. That I could bury it deep down and never talk about it again. That we could go home tonight into our safe little bubble, and she would hold me while I slept.
How stupid was I to think that would even be a remote possibility? Karma was out tonight and rightfully so, she wasn’t on my side. Out of anyone to catch Asher and I, it just had to be Maggie, didn’t it? Out of anyone in the world to walk in on that sight, it had to be the one it would hurt the most, right?
Self-hate and disgust run rampant through me as I decide I have to talk to Maggie. I have to apologize. I have to beg for forgiveness. I have to…do something.
I head in the direction she disappeared to, checking every bathroom and corner I can. If I were her, I’d be sulking somewhere, probably sobbing if I’m honest. God, why the fuck did I do that? We weren’t dating or anything. I mean, we had one date, but it’s not like I was her girlfriend.
Then why do you feel like you just cheated?
That turning in my stomach amplifies as I make my way into the main room where my father makes eye contact, gesturing me over.
“Have you seen Maggie?” I ask before him or Calista can say a word.
They both frown. “No, she went to the bathroom and never came back.”
I nod as I scan the room.
“Did something happen?” Harry asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I found her crying in the bathroom. Someone spilled their drink all over her dress. Now I can’t find her.”
“Maggie was crying over a dress?” Calista challenges.
I roll my eyes, not having the patience to filter myself.
“No, she was crying because some goddamn bitch spilled a drink on her.”
“Such language,” a voice says from behind me before a heavy palm rests on my shoulder.
A chill skates down my back as my father smiles.
“Thomas. I didn’t think you were going to make it tonight.”
“I have a little business to finish up in Spain, but Christopher called and insisted I be here.”
My father nods like that’s understandable.
I look up at the familiar man. Thomas Booth is one of my father’s oldest friends. They have been attached at the hip since birth. He’s practically my uncle. He certainly doesn’t look at me like I’m his niece, though.
“Bridgette, you need to be careful what you say in public. People will be concerned about your upbringing,” he says, his murky brown eyes practically boring into my soul as his more grey than black hair falls into his face. He lifts a hand up to grease it back where it belongs before leaning in closer; the smell of cinnamon so overwhelming I almost gag.
“I know what a good girl you are. Make sure others do too, okay, sweetie?” he whispers lowly.
Disgust rolls through me as I give him a shaky nod that hopefully pacifies him before he smiles and removes his hand from my shoulder. I turn to face my dad, holding a hand over my stomach.
“I’m not feeling well. I’m going home.”
He looks displeased by that, but when I fake a gag, he’s practically shooing me away. I take the opportunity, pulling out my phone to call a ride as fast as I can.
* * *
The car hardly stops before I’m throwing open the door and running for the front of my house. When I get to the door, I find it already unlocked. I barely shut it behind me before I’m racing up the stairs.
“Maggie?” I call out. “Maggie!”
When I get to the top of the stairs, I kick my heels off. Something I should have done before climbing the fucking staircase. My hand wraps around her door handle, coming up short when I find it locked.
“Maggie?” I call through the door as I knock. “Please! Let me in. I need to explain. You need to hear me out! You can’t just ignore me!” I scream.
Surprisingly, the door is ripped open, Maggie looking at me in what seems to be outrage through her red rimmed eyes.
“I need to hear you out? I can’t ignore you? My god, Bridgette. You really are a self-absorbed princess. Guess what? I can do whatever the fuck I want, just like you can, clearly,” she says before slamming the door in my face.
I reach for the handle, but she locks it in an instant and I smack the door as I shout.
“Goddamnit Maggie! Please! It wasn’t what you think. I didn’t want to be there with him. I just…I….”
I pause, not knowing how to explain what came over me. Partly because I’m not exactly sure what happened. It feels like a fever dream. One that sends an aching pain through my entire body just at the reminder of it.
“Maggie, please. I’m sorry. I…I’m so sorr-y,” I say, my throat tightening as my voice cracks at the end.
The door opens again, and somehow, she looks even angrier than before. The candle she made me is in her hand as she snarls at me.
“Go choke on a fucking dick. Your specialty.”
With that, she winds her arms back, throwing the candle against the wall behind me and shattering it to pieces. I feel my chest crack apart, mirroring the candle, before her door slams shut so hard the entire house shakes. I stand there numb and silent for longer than I should. She’s not wrong. There is nothing to say, nothing to excuse what happened. Just because we weren’t out in the open didn’t mean we weren’t emotionally invested in each other. As hard as it’s been for me to admit I…I have feelings for her. Big ones, even, and I just fucking ruined everything.
Slowly, I move to my room, shakily opening the door as I walk to my desk. I take a seat in the chair, numbly staring forward before I reach for a piece of paper. I stare at the blank white space for several seconds, feeling the need to release my emotions onto the page. Normally I’d write in my journal, but this…this is different.
My pen scrawls across the paper as I emotionally bleed out all over the page. I don’t realize I’m crying until my vision blurs and a few stray tears splatter onto the page, smearing my words. I continue anyway, sniffing deeply as I pour out everything that I have no idea how to verbally articulate. Then, I stop. My hands are shaking, my crying intensified as I stare at it. For a moment, I think about crumpling it up and tossing it. Instead, I open a drawer, grabbing out an envelope as I slip the letter inside and seal it.
Standing up, I hesitantly leave my room and head for the hallway. Each step, my stomach turns tighter and tighter. It’s coiled so tight I’m ready to vomit. I do my best to keep my head held high as I come to Maggie’s door once more.
A small part of me wants to knock one more time, to get on my hands and knees and beg for her forgiveness. I want to tell her that I don’t know how to move past what happened this summer. I don’t know what normal is anymore. She shifted my entire world; she severed my tie with gravity and flipped everything onto its lid and now…I’m lost and reflecting on the decisions I’ve made. I’m not sure I want to be found.
Instead of any of that, though, I lift the envelope to my lips, press a firm kiss to it, leaving behind a red print before I slip it under her door. Once it skates under the door frame, I let out a shaky breath and turn away, giving myself no other choice than leaving all of…this behind.