1. Bridger
1
brIDGER
PRESENT DAY
L ove Beach Brews is quiet as I step inside. The space is one of my favorites in town with eclectic signs and license plates covering the walls. It’s the epitome of a beach bar although it attracts less of a rowdy crowd than the Sandy Sipper down the way.
We’ve played both places, and while opinions are split, I’d rather play here, but maybe I’m just getting old.
As the bass player for Tin Can Aficionados, or TCA, music has been my life for years, only recently moving from passion to job. But that’s why we’re here in Love Beach, to plant some temporary roots and give ourselves a chance to regroup.
When my father ended up in the hospital more than a year ago, it was a wake-up call. I hadn’t been able to drop everything to be by his side, and that guilt still weighs on me. I hadn’t been able to put my family first and that needed to change.
Having the band’s support didn’t hurt either. They all expressed feelings of burnout and restlessness from being on the road.
But we all still wanted to make music, perform, and do what we love—it just wouldn’t work in my hometown.
It was a conundrum.
Until I’d found this little beach town and pitched taking up temporary residence here. It wasn’t a hard sell—Nick’s wife is pregnant and Sam is getting married this summer and the rest of us just needed a break.
I wanted to fly home as soon as I found a place in Love Beach, but my parents had insisted I take some time to settle in. That was months ago, and now their schedule seems to be busier than mine.
“Hey, Bridger, give me a second and I’ll be right out,” Wells says. He’s the brewmaster here and despite being Saige’s cousin, he seems to like me.
Thankfully.
He and Isaac had jumped at the chance to have us play a few times a month and had taken to calling me to fill in random nights their other talent canceled.
“Sure thing, man,” I say, taking a seat at the bar and studying the taps even though I don’t plan on having any. Movement to my right catches my eye as a young girl folds up a notebook and carries it toward me.
Hoisting herself up on a stool, she holds out her hand to me with an expression I can’t read. “I’m Haven Reiser.”
Ah, the expression makes sense now.
“It’s nice to meet you, Haven. I’m Bridger,” I say, returning the shake and offering her a genuine smile. Her hair is dark and pulled back into a ponytail, little wisps framing her face, her hazel eyes bright and serious as she watches me.
“You’re the guy in the band.”
“I am.”
“What instrument do you play?”
“The bass.”
“Is it boring?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you play any other instruments?”
“I can play almost anything.”
“What about the piano?”
“It’s not my favorite but I do all right,” I say, my smile growing with each question she fires at me.
“I want to take lessons but Dad doesn’t want me to.”
“That’s not what I said,” Wells retorts, carrying a tray of glasses and setting them on the bar. “I said that you have a lot of activities, and I want you to choose the ones you’re most excited about so that you still have time to be a kid.”
She huffs at her father, and it’s obvious this is a conversation they’ve had before. Not getting anywhere with him, she turns her focus back to me. “Do you write songs?”
“Sometimes.”
“Love songs?”
“Quite a few.”
“Dad says I’m not allowed to come here when you play.”
“Because the crowd is too rowdy for you when I’m working,” Wells says through gritted teeth, and I try my best to cover my smile by wiping my hand over my face. Haven can’t be older than ten, but it’s obvious she’s a pro at pressing her father’s buttons.
“Are you gonna write one about Aunt Saige?” she asks with a huff as she turns her attention back to me.
“Haven,” Wells warns her but I just chuckle.
“Do you think she’d like that?” I ask, not entirely sure of the answer.
Haven ponders for a moment, her head tilting back and forth like she’s really working out all the factors.
“I think so. She has your shirt in her closet.”
“My…”
“Haven, that’s not—” Wells huffs and looks at me. “She has a TCA shirt that’s been relegated to the depths of her closet.”
Interesting.
“So, there’s hope for me?” I joke, even though I’m mostly serious. It’s been almost three months of trying to get back into Saige’s good graces. The woman has made it her mission to avoid me at all costs, and I’ve doubled down to find those pockets of time where she can’t.
Something passes through Wells’s gaze I can’t make out before he lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “Middle of the night band practice and not showing up when you said you would didn’t help your cause.”
I open my mouth to retort and then close it before nodding. “I’m trying to be more respectful of her time.”
Of course she told him about me standing her up. But did she tell him everything? Is that why he’s even talking to me now?
“Dad, can we go?” Haven whines, seemingly done with this entire conversation and pulling me back to the present.
“Twenty minutes.”
“I have my guitar with me in my car. Would it be all right if I played for you? I mean, I’m not the whole band but…” I look to Wells. “As long as it’s okay with your dad.”
“Really?” she squeals. “Dad, can he?”
Wells looks to me and I nod. “It’s no problem,” I assure him.
“Thanks, and hey, did you need something?”
“What? Oh, um, it can wait,” I tell him as I stand from my stool and hitch my thumb toward the door. He gives me a questioning look but doesn’t say anything as I step out onto the sidewalk.
Pulling in a deep breath, I tamp down my desire to ask Wells if I’ll ever be able to show his cousin that I can be the guy she needs. But maybe I’m thinking about it all wrong.
Grabbing my guitar, I let a smile grace my lips as I think about the feisty young girl inside. Maybe if I can impress her, she’ll put a good word in with Saige.
It might be a long shot, but a man can dream.