15. Bridget #2
I couldn’t help but smile. “He sounds like a good dad.”
The girl nodded her agreement. “The best.”
With the game going to intermission, I peeked at the paperwork she had spread out all over the coffee table. “What are you working on? Some kind of school project?”
Maisie lit up before my very eyes. “Oh! This is all for Thorne Tough.”
“What’s Thorne Tough?”
Beaming with pride, she explained, “It’s my adaptive sports camp for kids with disabilities.” She patted her prosthetic leg. “I want kids like me to have a place where they can make friends and have fun in a supportive environment.”
Damn, I was blown away. She’d worked hard to overcome her own physical challenges, then turned around and used that as fuel to make an impact in the lives of others.
“That’s incredible.” Bumping shoulders with her, I said, “I want to be you when I grow up, Maisie.”
The teen’s cheeks turned pink at my praise.
“Back when I was teaching, I had a student with a limb reduction defect. His right hand never fully formed in the womb. I bet he would have loved to go to a camp like the one you’re planning to put on.”
Maisie perked up, shifting through the stack of papers and pulling out one that looked like an application. “Do you have a way to contact his family? We have a lot of interest, but if he’s someone you know personally, I can make sure he ends up on our short list.”
“I could reach out to one of my former colleagues and see if they can pass the info along.” Hopefully, they wouldn’t see my name attached to an email and immediately discard it. My relationship with Aiden ruined most, if not all, of the friendships I’d built with my fellow teachers.
She clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes! Please do!”
Her excitement was infectious, and I found myself laughing. “Okay, I will.”
“Cole’s been one of Thorne Tough’s biggest donors,” Arizona chimed in.
At the mention of his name, my smile flatlined.
To say it was awkward around the house since he’d dropped the ex-wife bombshell would be an understatement.
In fact, I was relieved when the Surf headed to the East Coast for eight days.
While I still struggled with the severe anxiety of being home alone, it meant I didn’t have to pretend as though everything was okay when it was the furthest thing from it.
Old wounds had been ripped back open, and most days it felt as if I were bleeding out.
The other woman clocked my reaction and changed the subject. “Maisie, honey? I bet if you asked her nicely, Bridget would let you braid her hair while she watches the third period.”
Eyes sparkling, the teenage girl bounced in her seat. “Please, please, please! Your hair is amazingly long.”
I toyed with the ends of the tresses that fell to my waist. “I’ve actually been thinking of cutting it.”
“How about this? We let Maisie take a crack at braiding the length you have now. Then after the game and dinner, I can cut your hair,” Arizona suggested.
“Ooh! Great idea!” Maisie chirped.
To her stepdaughter, Arizona said, “When you go up to get your supplies, go ahead and grab my shears. They’re in a blue case, top drawer in my bathroom.”
The girl was off to the races, her artificial leg not slowing her down one bit.
“You cut hair?” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice.
Arizona’s lips folded inward as she nodded. “Money was tight before all of this.” She waved a hand to indicate the luxuriousness of her home. “I used to cut Austin’s hair and trim my own to save a few bucks.”
I twisted the heavy length of my hair before letting it fall down my back. “I was hoping for more than a trim.”
She tossed me a wink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered, girlfriend.”
Guess there was only one way to find out if she could put her money where her mouth was when it came to her hairdressing skills.
The kids abandoned us after dinner, and as soon as the dishes were cleared, I found myself seated in a chair with a towel draped over my shoulders as Arizona washed my hair at the kitchen sink.
Her fingers were magic; the pressure of her kneading over my scalp felt so good that a moan slipped past my lips.
“Damn,” she teased. “Levi’s gonna be jealous if he finds out I’m making someone other than him orgasm.”
We both burst into a fit of giggles, which helped loosen some of the tension threaded throughout my muscles for the past week.
“God.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”
Using the handheld sink sprayer, Arizona rinsed away the suds clinging to my hair before working conditioner through the strands. “Actually, I kinda do.”
My brows drew down as I stared up at her. “What do you mean?”
She kept her eyes focused on her task. “Our situations were slightly different, but like you, I was forced to live in captivity.”
I blinked at her. “Seriously?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Mmm. It was a long time ago, but those early days after escaping are burned into my brain, so I understand some of what you’re feeling right now.”
“Wh-what do you think I’m feeling?”
Sympathy shone in her bright blue eyes when they shifted to meet my gaze.
“You blame yourself for getting sucked in, even though it was never truly your fault, and now you’re racked with guilt over getting out.
Almost like you don’t feel as though you deserve to be one of the lucky ones who do.
But at the same time, you’re always looking over your shoulder, like you expect your freedom to be snatched away again without warning. ”
Whoa.
She got it. Like, really got it.
Swallowing thickly, I replied, “Uh, yeah. That pretty much sums it up.”
“It’s a total mindfuck, and it’s impossible for anyone who hasn’t been in your shoes to understand.
” Arizona washed out the conditioner, then turned off the faucet and used a towel to remove the excess water from my hair.
“Therapy helps, but the one thing that truly allowed me to heal was the love of a good man.”
I sat up suddenly, protesting, “Oh, Cole and I aren’t—”
“But you used to be, right?” The way she asked, it sounded as if she already knew the answer.
My eyes dropped to my lap. “Yeah.”
“It’s clear to see that he still cares.”
His feelings weren’t the problem.
Voice thick, I confessed, “After everything, I don’t know if I can—” A tear broke free, sliding down my face, and I didn’t make a move to wipe it away.
Arizona reached out to take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You’ve been through a traumatic experience, so it’s perfectly understandable that you’re scared you’ll never be able to trust someone enough to let them get that close again.
I hope you can believe me when I say that, given enough time and with the right support, you’ll come out on the other side of this stronger than ever. ”
One thing she said struck a chord with me. I needed to talk to someone, a professional, even if the idea of recounting the gritty details of the abuse I suffered twisted my stomach into knots.
I couldn’t do this alone.
It was time to seek help and start the healing process.