Chapter 6 #2
Mia follows me down and cocks her head at her mom. “Why can’t he fix it, Mama? He said the floor is good.”
“Honey, it’s…it’s complicated.”
Bridget stands beside me at the bottom of the stairs, and for the first time, I stare directly into her eyes. They’re a cloudy gray, like the sky during the most perfect rain. She draws her lower lip between her teeth and exhales deeply through her nose.
“Anything else I can do before I head out?”
I check the time on my phone. It’s almost six. If I head out now, I’ll make it back to the compound before dark. I’m starving, so I won’t have the energy to run, which means I’ll be walking.
“Would you at least stay for dinner?” Bridget’s face looks as tired as I feel. “Pizza? I’m not much of a cook.”
I bite back a grin, thinking about the sweet tea, and I nod. “Pizza would be great.”
Mia starts to clap as she plops down on the couch and turns on the TV. “Mama, am I going to school tomorrow?”
“Honey, I don’t…I don’t know. Let’s just have some dinner, and we’ll figure everything out.”
She punches a number on her phone and asks me what I like on my pizza.
“Your call,” I say. “Unless you like weird shit.” I flick a look at Mia.
“What qualifies as weird?” Bridget asks.
“Pineapple,” I say. “Anything else…” I put my fingers to my lips and make a kissing sound. “Delish.”
Her smile eases a little of the pain in her face, and she places the order.
Mia is sitting on the couch, absorbed in some cartoon and cuddling Gavin.
Kids are so resilient. So strong. After a long and exhausting day, Mia seems totally fine.
She just let the day go. It’s Bridget and I who both look like we’re carrying suitcases full of bricks up a steep hill.
“Can I see your phone?” I ask.
She hands over the device, and I enter my contact info. “Now you know how to reach me,” I say.
She looks at my name and smiles. “Logan Taylor. That’s such a pretty name for such a…” She stops herself.
I chuckle. “It’s all right.” I scrub a hand over my face. “You can tell me I’m not pretty.”
She laughs and motions for me to join her in the kitchen. “It’s not that,” she says.
I follow her into the small, open kitchen. If we talk quietly, Mia might not be able to hear us, but I like that the floor plan allows an unobstructed view of the rest of the downstairs.
“Logan,” she says, dropping into a chair.
She motions for me to sit. “I have to be honest with you.” She rests her face in her hands.
“I’m…I’m at a loss for how to repay you.
Pizza doesn’t begin to cut it. You spent an entire workday taking care of my kid…
I would love nothing more than to hire you to fix my stairs.
If I had the extra funds, I would have fixed them already.
” She laces her fingers together and stares down at her hands.
“Mia’s dad isn’t in the picture, never has been, so there’s no support there, if you know what I mean.
He sees her, and they have more of a fun-uncle-type relationship, which is better than nothing.
I try not to say anything bad about him in front of his daughter, but we’re on our own.
This was my mom’s house, so I’m fortunate to have a roof over my head.
There’s just not a lot left over for extra.
Like home maintenance. And doctor visits. ”
I watch her face as she talks, and it’s not just the long years of loneliness and defeat that draw me in.
Bridget is stunning. Her face is so expressive, her eyes so honest when she looks at me.
Right now, she’s staring into her hands as if admitting she’s committed a crime.
She’s way too hard on herself. Handling what she has all these years is nothing to be ashamed of. She should be proud. Damn proud.
“My mom passed a while back, and the stress of managing everything all alone…” She looks up at me then, those gray eyes pooling tears like raindrops.
“And of course, these headaches… That’s just been the straw that’s breaking this camel’s back.
” She bites her lower lip to stop it from trembling and meets my eyes, a gentle lift to her chin.
“But I promise,” she continues, “I’ll repay you for this kindness, the gas money, and the food you bought Mia at the hospital. I don’t like to be in debt.”
In spite of myself, I reach out to her and grab her hand. It’s a fast, reassuring gesture. Just my hand on hers for a second before I pull away. Her eyes flash with something—not anger, not fear, but I’m not sure exactly what it is.
“I did what I did without expecting anything in return,” I say.
“I know a thing or two about repaying debts. And I’m not here to make the hole you’ve been in feel any deeper.
” I pace the kitchen, putting some distance between those rain-cloud eyes and myself.
“I’d like to fix the carpet for you. It could help me out, actually.
I’d like to do more home remodeling work, and if I do a good job, I can use you as a reference. ”
I don’t know where that’s coming from, but all of a sudden, it feels like a good idea.
A way to ease my dependence on Leo and Tim and the shop that really doesn’t have enough work for me anyway.
It’ll be impossible to get started as a contractor on my own without tools, materials, and insurance, but maybe somebody will hire me on if I can prove I’ve got the skills.
And having work of my own will give me a real excuse to get Arrow off my back.
The pressure to work with him on shit I don’t want will ease up if I’m getting other jobs.
“Really?” she asks. “You’d do that? I mean, of course I’d be happy to give you a reference. I just feel weird letting you work for free.”
“I only want a reference after I’ve done the work,” I say sternly. “And only if you’re happy with the outcome. I’m not asking for any favors.”
“You’re doing me the favor.” She smiles. “We’re two sides of the same broken record, Logan.”
There’s a knock at the door, and she starts to stand, but I motion for her to stay. “Let me.”
I check the peephole and see it’s the pizza guy, so I yank open the door.
I’ve got twenty dollars in my armband, what’s left after buying Mia breakfast and putting a few bucks of gas in the tank, so I take the pizza and hand the kid the cash.
“Sorry. It’s all I’ve got on me today, man,” I say.
I don’t really know what a good tip is anymore.
This is the first time I’ve paid for a food delivery since I came back.
The kid waves away my cash. “It’s okay, mister. You guys tipped on the app when you ordered. Thanks, though.”
“You tipped on the app?” I close and lock the door and bring the pizza to Bridget in the kitchen.
She nods. “I always do. It’s safer than keeping cash around the house.”
When she says that, it hits me again that Bridget is a woman living all alone with a small kid.
She’s got a mild concussion, and I’m supposed to go home and just leave her to fend for herself all night.
I don’t like the feeling, yet I don’t belong here.
It’s not my place to stay, and I think if Bridget knew about my past, she’d be hustling my ass out of here so fast, I’d be the one whose head was spinning.
I eat a couple slices of pizza and choke it back with Bridget’s tea.
Mia’s eating on the couch with Gavin while Bridget and I talk quietly about her job.
She’s vague on the topic, not really wanting to talk about it, so I don’t press the issue.
God only knows I don’t want to be pressed, and she hasn’t asked anything so far that I haven’t easily answered.
She finishes off a slice of pepperoni and meets my eyes. “You should take my car,” she says quietly.
“Sorry?”
She wipes her mouth with a napkin, dark circles forming under her eyes.
“I’m not going to work tomorrow, and I’m probably going to have to keep Mia home from school.
I think we will spend a good part of the night on the couch watching TV.
You shouldn’t have to walk or pay for a ride after everything you’ve been through today.
Might as well take my car. You can bring it back when you come to fix the stairs. ”
“Tomorrow?” I ask. “You want me to come back tomorrow?”
She meets my eyes. “If you can. I mean, if you can’t…”
“Tomorrow,” I insist, saying it before she can backpedal. “I can do tomorrow.”
After we eat, I help Bridget load the dishes in the dishwasher and head to the door. As I drive off in her car, I wave at Mia, who is using Gavin’s paw to wave goodbye to me. Bridget’s at the door, leaning against the jamb, just watching as I pull away.
This is literally the best day I’ve had in years.
When I get back to the compound, it’s after eight.
Tiny’s in the kitchen, talking on the phone to his daughter Lia and drinking a beer.
He raises a brow at me in greeting and continues his conversation.
No questions about where I was all day. Just a brother greeting a brother.
Trust. This is what family is to me now, and I give Tiny a good-natured punch on the shoulder as I grab a beer from the fridge and head back to my room.
After I shower, I lie between my sheets and close my eyes, and for once, something other than emptiness lulls me to sleep. It’s a feeling that’s dangerously close to peace.