CHAPTER 20
AVERY
The groan I let out has Bridger’s eyebrows pulling together and his eyes filling with concern. “I’m fine,” I promise him, “just some back pain, but that’s become normal.” I eye the mug that is now in my hands with suspicion. “I’m not sure I should drink this.”
“But it’s your favorite,” he points out gently.
“I know, but then I’ll have to go to the bathroom.”
He chuckles, the sound sliding down my spine before it blooms in my chest and fills me with warmth.
I’ve seen such a change in him the last few months. His smiles come easier. His laughter bursts out of him like it can’t be contained any longer. And love pours out of him.
We haven’t said the words, but I know he loves me. I can feel it in the way he cares for me, the way he takes the time to talk to our daughter, and the way he touches me with reverence as he rubs cream on my belly for the stretch marks I complained about one time.
I’ve learned to not say everything that pops into my head around this man because he files it away, and then does everything in his power to make it happen. It’s just another way he shows me how much he loves me.
As I stare into my mug, I can’t help but think back to a few days ago and the phone call I received. Bridger was with me since we were just leaving my doctor’s appointment. Even now, I can’t seem to shake it, knowing the stress isn’t good for me doesn’t help matters.
The only reason I answered when I saw my father’s name was because I thought something might be wrong. Since the day I picked up my stuff, I hadn’t heard from either of my parents.
“Hello?” I could hear how uncertain I sounded even to my own ears as I answered.
Bridger looked at me out of the corner of his eye since I put the call on speakerphone. My gut was twisting and the high from hearing our baby’s heartbeat was fading quickly.
“Avery,” my father snapped, “this has gone on long enough.”
“What, exactly,” my voice was artic, “has gone on long enough?”
“This whole charade with you carrying on with that hooligan.”
“You mean Bridger? The father of my child?” I challenged him, shooting the questions at him without hesitation.
He paused for a moment, probably surprised at the vehemence in my tone and the fact I was talking back at all. It’s not something he had heard from me before, but spending time with Bridger and our family gave me confidence I reveled in and was damn proud of.
“If he recognizes himself as the father of your,” he took a breath and gritted out, “baby then that makes this easier for you.”
“Makes what easier for me exactly?”
My stomach clenched and I had a feeling where the conversation was going, I was just hoping my own father wasn’t going to disappoint me yet again. Like he always has.
“The baby,” the terse tone in his voice told me he would have preferred to use another b-word other than baby, but was restraining himself, “can be with its father and you can come back to the family.”
A laugh burst out of me, one filled with bitterness and resentment. The entire time I laughed, I could practically feel the way he was seething on the other end of the line.
“What family?” I snarled the question.
He didn’t heed the warning and tried to sound magnanimous, “Our family. The Page and Prescott family.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because this is where you belong. You owe me.”
And just like that I knew what the phone call was really about. I had to take a few deep breaths to keep myself under control. “What do I owe you exactly?”
“You owe me for the years we took care of you. We gave you a home, clothed you and fed you. I paid for your education,” he tried to justify his own bullshit.
The worst part was knowing he believed every word. He didn’t see a damn thing wrong with what he was saying, and it hurt. He didn’t see anything wrong with insisting that I abandon my child, his grandchild.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back because my parents weren’t going to get any more of my tears. I had spent far too many years bending over backward to keep them happy, and there was no reason for me to do it any longer.
“You think I owe you because you did what is required of you to take care of a child you chose to have. It’s not like I had a say in being born,” I pointed out.
“You’ve always been ungrateful,” he snarled. “Now it’s time for you to forget about this baby and come back home. Eric is still willing to marry you. It’s a good match and it’ll secure the future of Page and Prescott.”
“You mean the same law office where you never allowed me to practice law after insisting that I follow in your footsteps and go to college, studying what you wanted me to, and then to law school?”
“I wanted you to have a good future,” he countered.
“A future you planned, not one I wanted,” I spit back at him. “A future of being married to a piece of shit who would treat me like I’m a second-class citizen and cheat on me?”
He huffed, but it wasn’t because I was getting through to him, it was because he thought I was being ridiculous.
I tsked and shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “The saddest part of this whole thing is that you could have passed the firm down to me. I’m a fucking lawyer.”
“You better watch your mouth,” he snapped at me.
“Or what?”
And that was when Bridger had enough. He wasn’t interested in hearing what my father had to say. I couldn’t exactly blame him.
“Mr. Page,” his voice was a low growl filled with warning, “I believe I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave Avery alone.”
My father laughed. Fucking laughed.
“You can’t do a damn thing to me,” his voice was smug as hell.
“You better watch your mouth,” I mocked because I couldn’t help myself.
Bridger chuckled, but it wasn’t a nice sound. I wasn’t afraid because I knew it was all directed at my father who dared to call me and put more expectations on me.
My father continued on as if I didn’t say anything, which wasn’t surprising considering my gender, “You’re just a tattoo artist. You don’t have any connections. I had you looked into.”
Bridger made a humming sound. “I guess we’ll see then,” he sounded almost bored.
When he nodded in my direction, I hung up the phone and slumped back down in the seat. I was thankful that we had already pulled up at our house. I looked at it longingly because all I wanted to do was go inside, curl up on the couch and forget about the phone call.
Bridger’s large hand wrapped around the back of my neck, his touch grounding me. “Are you okay Sweetheart?”
“No,” I whispered.
I hated how much one phone call hurt my heart, but it did.
He didn’t offer me empty platitudes. He didn’t try to soothe me. He simply led me inside and to the couch where he tucked me in with a blanket and then showered me with affection and attention. I felt a little better after some tea, my favorite cookies, and a foot rub.
But the lingering effects of the phone call with my father are still clinging to me even a days later.
Bridger has been cagey about the entire thing. It’s making me more than a little suspicious because I remember his threat.
My phone ringing pulls me out of my memories of talking with my father and my eyes widen when I see it’s Tasha calling. I’ve only heard from her one time since I left the firm, and that was only a text explaining to me how she was forbidden from talking to me.
It’s not like I was surprised because her father is just as bad as mine, but it still stung. I was hoping my only friend would fight for me and wouldn’t give in to the demands of her father.
Bridger looks at me with his eyebrow raised because he knows what went down with Tasha all those months ago. That’s why I answer the call and put it on speakerphone right away.
“Tasha? Are you okay?”
“Avery, oh my god, it’s so good to hear your voice,” she sounds giddy, but I’m confused about her cheeriness. And the fact that she’s talking to me at all. “Have you seen the news?”
My eyebrows pull together and I echo, “The news?”
When I glance at Bridger, he has a smug look on his face and turns on the TV. After flipping through the channels, he finds the local news station and sits back like his work here is done.
“This was the scene today at Page and Prescott as the Department of Justice, CBI, and local law enforcement descended upon the prestigious law firm specializing in corporate law,” the newscaster’s voice pulls my attention away from Avery who is babbling about how I need to see what is going on.
The screen is filled with official looking people moving in and out of the office building while carrying boxes. My breath gets caught in my lungs when my father, Mr. Prescott, and Eric are escorted out of the building in handcuffs.
“Are you watching?” Tasha’s voice cuts through my shock.
“Yeah,” I mutter, “what’s going on?”
Our peanut gives a hard kick, and I move my hand there. Bridger’s hand covers mine and gives my fingers a squeeze, but I can’t look away from the screen.
“This is after The Denver Post broke a story on the front page of today’s paper that exposes the years of criminal wrongdoing, misconduct, and intimidation,” the newscaster continues.
“Holy shit,” I breathe out.
“Right? Isn’t it amazing?” Tasha crows.
I turn slowly toward Bridger to find him already looking at me. “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper while keeping my attention on my man.
He winks at me and smiles like a man with a secret.
“I know what to say,” Tasha chirps, “we’re free. Really free.”
“Free,” I parrot and then blink. “I’ve been free,” I tell her, the shock starting to fade, “and I’m happy.”
“Good.” Tasha pauses and when she speaks again, her voice is thick with emotion, “I’m so sorry I listened to my father’s orders and haven’t talked to you in so long.
It wasn’t just my father,” she admits softly.
“Eric wouldn’t let it go. I was afraid that if I defied them then it would make it worse for you, but I should have still tried. ”
“It’s okay, Tasha,” I reassure her. “I don’t blame you. I know how it feels to be trapped in that cage. Sometimes the only thing you can do is survive from one day to another.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” she whispers, and I can hear the tears in her voice.
“You’ll find your happiness too,” I promise.
And I believe it. Now that she’s free, she’ll find her own path, one she’s proud to walk. I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends again, not like we were, but at least now she has a chance to have a life she wants instead of the one expected of her.
We chat for a few more minutes which makes me feel lighter. I didn’t even realize how heavy the loss of her friendship was weighing on me.
When we hang up, I turn toward Bridger and study him. He tries to give nothing away, but one side of his mouth tips up.
“You did this?”
“I warned him,” is all he says.
It takes some effort, but I manage to sit up and move until I’m straddling his lap. I grind down on him and feel him harden underneath me.
“Bridger,” I whisper as I run my fingers through his hair. “You did this for me?”
His large hands come down on my hips and he holds me in place. “I’d do anything for you.”
“I love you,” the words slip from my lips without fear or reservation.
Bridger freezes and then he blinks a few times. It’s as if his entire being crumples and his mouth slams down on mine. He kisses me with so much passion it steals my breath.
He pulls away only enough to murmur against my lips, “I love you, Sweetheart.” His hand covers my belly and our little girl kicks right where he’s touching me, his eyes soft and filled with love. “You and our little heart are my entire world.”
I nod toward the TV where the reporter is still talking about the Page and Prescott scandal. “You made this happen?”
“Not only did your father upset you, but he didn’t listen to my warning, and it was very clear,” he growls.
I slip off the couch and to my knees in between his thighs. His breathing becomes ragged as I reach for his jeans and undo them. Thankfully, he helps me out and lifts his hips so I can pull his clothes down until his cock springs free.
“What are you doing?” He chokes out the words, but his eyes never leave me.
I wrap my hand around the base of his cock as I lean forward and swipe my tongue across the crown where pre-cum is already beading. He groans just as I part my lips and take him into my mouth.
His fingers dive into my hair as I start to bob up and down his length. I look up at him, loving the way he looks at me with his brown eyes filled with lust and love.
When I pull off to take a breath, my lips brush his sensitive head, “I’m showing you just how much I appreciate you looking out for me and having my back.”
“Always,” he growls.
I take him back into my mouth and his fingers tighten in the strands of my hair. With my other hand, I grip the base of his cock and move it in time with my mouth as I take him to the back of my throat.
“Yes,” he hisses, “just like that.”
Every stroke gets him closer to coming. When I know he’s right on the edge, I roll his balls between my fingers and tug.
“Fuck,” he barks, “Avery.”
It’s the only warning I get before I’m swallowing his cum as satisfaction rolls through me. I love giving my man pleasure.
I just love him.
After sitting back on my heels, I swipe a bit of cum that leaked out with my thumb before taking it into my mouth and cleaning up my mess.
Bridger is up and stripping his pants off completely before I even know what is happening. Then I’m up and in his arms. I yelp and wrap my arms around his neck.
“Bridger,” I protest, without any real heat behind it.
“It’s my turn,” he husks, “but I need to lay you out on the bed so I can worship you properly.”
I point in that direction and dramatically declare, “Take me to our room.”
He chuckles and then spends the rest of the night showing me how much he loves me. How much he craves me. How much he will always put me first.
This man.
He’s everything. My heart, my soul, and the father of our daughter.
It’s because of him that I have a family and a home.
I couldn’t ask for better.