“What’s for breakfast?” Sarah asked.

  “Pancakes,” Bridget replied, eyeing Eli as she said it. “I’ll make sure to put banana slices on yours.”

  “What?” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “That sounds disgusting.”

  “It’s amazing.” Eli poked Sarah in the ribs. “You’ll have to try it.”

  “I think I’ll pass. No offense, Karen.”

  “None taken. I think it’s disgusting, too. Even worse is when she spreads peanut butter all over it.”

  “Oh my God!” Sarah’s eyes widened. “I think I’ll puke just thinking about that.”

  Bridget snickered behind her wrist as she added in the milk and egg to the batter.

  “It’s so good,” Eli defended.

  Bridget wisely kept her mouth shut, listening to the banter. She had missed this. This was family, far more than her own family was. They rarely had moments like this in her house. They were never jovial, never teased each other. It simply hadn’t been allowed.

  After they all sat down at the table to eat, Bridget rolled her shoulders while everyone helped to clean up. She gladly avoided that chore for as long as she could, claiming she was still too injured. She wished she had grown up like Eli had. Her life would have been so different. She wouldn’t be in her early thirties and still not out, most likely. She’d be happy.

  Fuck, what would she look like if she were happy?

  Jerica sprung to her mind, and she couldn’t stop the smile that flashed across her lips. Turning her chin up, she caught Karen’s eye, who gave her a questioning look. “What can I do to help today? Just lay it on me. Preferably anything sitting.”

  Karen patted her hand lightly. “You don’t have to work for your stay.”

  “I want to help. Eli’s been an excellent friend to me, and I want to repay her.”

  With a soft smile, Karen nodded. “I understand. I’ll find something for you to do.”

  “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Two days with the Wilsons was enough. Bridget needed a break and a distraction. While she’d enjoyed the time, she was missing Jerica. They’d texted, but she hadn’t had much time to call and talk to her, even though she wanted to. Sitting on the couch in the basement where it was relatively quiet for once, she snagged her phone and called Jerica.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Bridget smiled, heat rushing to her cheeks.

  “I just got off work. You have good timing.”

  Bridget wasn’t going to admit that she’d been waiting for the clock to tell her it was time, but that was exactly what she had done. She had waited until she knew Jerica’s shift was over, and she had waited another five minutes just to be sure Jerica was leaving the hospital. Smiling, Bridget played with her sweats. “I suppose I do.”

  “You were waiting until it was time, weren’t you?”

  Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “How did you know?”

  “Because I know you, at least better than I used to, and I like you. How’s everything going with the full house?”

  “Not as bad as I thought it would.” Bridget risked a glance to the stairs, knowing she was the only one in the basement at least. No one seemed to be coming down, so she decided to open up a bit more. “I wasn’t sure how Eli’s family would respond to me being here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, because we used to date, and because I was a bit of an asshole there for a while.”

  Jerica laughed lightly. “You an asshole? I can hardly imagine.”

  “Is that sarcasm?”

  “It is.” Jerica laughed again as her phone connected to the car.

  Bridget shifted position to get more comfortable. She longed for the day when she would be completely carefree and truly able to relax. She needed it. It had felt like a decade since she’d sprawled out on a couch, completely comfortable. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “I’m going over to my sister’s.”

  “I can’t entice you to come up here, can I? I’ve been…working out my fingers and wrist.”

  Jerica paused, the silence going on far too long. She wasn’t sure what Jerica was thinking, but it didn’t feel like it was going to end well for either of them. Bridget stared at the television on mute as she waited for an answer, not sure how to probe for that one. If Jerica had been a suspect, she might know how best to get a response, but this time, she didn’t want to push too hard or too far in the wrong direction and risk everything they had built up.

  “I can’t tonight, Bridge. I’d love to, but I can’t.”

  “Oh.” Cold washed through her. Bridget had no idea where to go with that, but at least Jerica had called her that gentle nickname.

  “It’s the anniversary of her fiancé’s death.”

  Bridget pressed her lips together, hearing what Jerica didn’t say. It might have been the anniversary of her fiancé dying, but it was also the anniversary of him trying to kill her.

  “We’re all getting together at her house just to have dinner and hang out. I’ll probably end up staying the night.” Jerica sounded disappointed. “I might need to do the same tomorrow, too, but Mom should be able to take a few nights this week, luckily.”

  “Makes sense,” Bridget answered, her tone dropping. “I’ve worked quite a few situations similar to that. They’re tragic no matter what, so I’m glad you’re all going to be there for her. I’m sure she needs it.”

  “She does.” Jerica sighed.

  Bridget ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out the tangles. She wasn’t sure how to steer the conversation back to flirting. It had taken such a dark tone. Plus she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring it back around to the lightheartedness they had started with. “She’s seeing a professional, right?”

  “She’s not.” Jerica groaned. “We’ve tried to convince her it’ll be good, but before everything, her fiancé took her to a quack and she’s sworn off therapists ever since. I don’t blame her in some ways. In others, I wish she would try just once more.”

  “It’s so hard. I’ve been to some shrinks—good and bad, but mostly bad. The ones out here, in western Kansas? They mostly suck.” Bridget fiddled with her pants again, trying not to dive deep down the rabbit hole that had just showed up.

  “You’ve been?”

  “A few times. Never lasted long.” Bridget pursed her lips, still staring at nothing in particular. She wanted to talk longer, but she wasn’t sure that Jerica had the time or the energy, especially with what she was going into. “Keep trying to convince her, but it’s okay if she doesn’t go, too. Especially with the shrinks we have around here.”

  “There are a few good ones,” Jerica murmured.

  “I suppose, but I haven’t found them.”

  “I hope she does. He did a doozy on her. Hey, sorry to cut this short, but I just got to her house. I’ll try and find a day I can come up next.”

  Bridget gave a wan smile. “I can’t wait until I can drive. Then I can come see you instead.”

  “That’d be nice.” Bridget could hear the smile in Jerica’s voice.

  “Good. First thing as soon as I’m cleared to drive again, I’ll come down and see you.” It felt good to say that, to want it. She wanted to see Jerica in a place where no one else could interrupt them, wanted to be with her for hours and never stop making love to her during that time.

  Bridget parted her lips in surprise at that image.

  “I’ve got to go, Bridge. I’ll text and see you soon. Promises.”

  “All right,” Bridget answered, her voice distanced. “See you soon.”

  Hanging up, Bridget dropped her phone in her lap. Fuck. She was in love. There was no denying it. She’d thought it before, when she’d talked to Jerica for hours on the phone when she had a nightmare and didn’t want to listen to Sarah and Eli, but this…there was no denying this. Bridget was absolutely in love.

  Jerica probably didn’t feel the same way about her. Bridget was pretty sure they didn’t stand a chance together, either. Not with the baggage she came with. Though it would fully explain why she wanted to attempt to come out to her parents. Jerica had pushed her to think about it just by her very presence.

  Tossing her head back onto the couch, Bridget closed her eyes. First she thought of Jerica, sweet Jerica, with her full lips and soft cheeks with freckles. But her mind immediately turned to their conversation. Jerica’s sister. Domestic violence. She shuddered at the thought. Bridget opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling, but it was too late.

  Images of the fights she had broken up between spouses, the beatings she’d seen someone take, knife wounds, gunshot wounds. Shuddering, she kept her eyes open, not wanting to close them and encourage the flashbacks from fully returning.

  She was going to have a rough night of sleeping, if she got any sleep at all. Her bet was that she wouldn’t. She’d listen to Eli and Sarah pretend to be quiet, and then she’d lie awake the rest of the night, wishing she could call Jerica and talk to her.

  Instead, she was on her own for the entire night, and maybe could catch Jerica before she went to work in the morning. Sighing, she debated whether or not to drag her sorry ass upstairs and hang out with the rest of the crowd. Being with people could be a good thing or a bad thing, she couldn’t decide. They’d be a good distraction, but she equally wouldn’t be very good company—which would be a problem.

  Both Eli and Karen would no doubt catch on to the fact that Bridget was being cagey and avoiding, and then there would be an inquisition. No, it was better if she just stayed where she was and wallowed by herself. Then no one else would be turned off by her bad mood. Rolling her neck, she tested her muscles. She was back to semi–working out at least, though her wrist would get sore easily.

  She grabbed the bottle of water and held it sideways in her fingers, raising her arm up and lowering it in a curl with low weight. She needed the focus. She wasn’t like Eli who could go out into the fields and hang out with the cows. She snorted at the thought of Buddy, one bull she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to hang out with. He scared her, and with good reason.

  Bridget continued her exercises, moving on to some of the ones the physical therapist told her to try out. They were going to start working her leg muscles soon, even though she wasn’t completely cleared. She needed to get moving again. Sitting still like a bum was just not her, and it allowed her too much time to think about things she never wanted to think about again.

  Shuddering, she turned the water and twisted the lid, downing half the bottle. It was cool against her heated throat, which was exactly what she needed. She finished the bottle in silence. Bridget stayed in the basement alone for hours before she dragged herself to bed and attempted to fall asleep. If the house hadn’t been so full of people, she would have gladly stayed on the couch all night, watching television. Instead, she was back to staring at her ceiling.

  Bridget sat at the dining room table with plates of shit in front of her. Karen leaned over and showed her what to do and then abandoned ship. Bridget stared at all the things and tried to remember what Karen had told her to do, but this was not her strong suit. She didn’t know what she was doing even though Karen had given her step-by-step instructions.

  Sarah laughed as she came in from the front of the house, her melodic voice trilling through the living area and dining area. Bridget jerked her head up to see what the cause was, finding Sarah standing with another woman. She knew more people would be arriving, so this must be Sarah’s twin sister.

  Grinning, Sarah led her toward the kitchen. “Kara, this is Bridget, one of Eli’s good friends.”

  Bridget tried to remember if this was her sister or not, but she couldn’t. Extending her hand, Bridget held it out for Kara to take. “Nice to meet you. I’d stand up and shake your hand, but I’m not as quick on my feet as I used to be.”

  Kara’s gaze dropped to Bridget’s leg and then back up. “I can tell. Sarah told me about it.”

  “Ah.” Bridget shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to people talking about her, not that it was necessarily behind her back, but she wasn’t used to being the center of a conversation. “So you’re Sarah’s sister?”

  Kara laughed lightly and shook her head. “No. I’m her best friend. I moved to Garden a few years ago with my daughter.”

  “Oh.” Bridget was surprised. “I didn’t realize you were so close.”

  “Yeah, I don’t get up here as often as I’d like, but then again, neither does Sarah.” Jabbing Sarah in the ribs, Kara pulled out the chair next to Bridget and sat down. “So tell me what the hell I’m doing.”

  Bridget grimaced. “I’m not exactly sure. Karen just kind of left after a really quick explanation.”

  “Well, I think we can figure it out. What do you say, Sarah?”

  “I guess.” Sarah pulled up her own chair and grabbed one of the small mesh bags. “I just want to point out these were not my idea, but we decided not to fight it.”

  “I think it’ll look perfect for the photos.”

  “You would know,” Sarah muttered.

  Bridget perked up at that. “What do you mean?”

  “Kara is a photographer,” Sarah answered. “She’ll be doing the photos the day of.”

  “Ah.” Bridget grabbed her own mesh bag. Taking the tablespoon, she grabbed the birdseed and dumped two scoops into the bag. “How many of these do we have to do?”

  “Hundreds,” Sarah said, groaning at just the prospect.

  Bridget felt the same way. It was going to be a long day of birdseed. She was on her fifth bag before Kara piped up. “I think it’ll be perfect, the wedding day. Remember, the most important thing is that you end up married.”

  Sarah snorted lightly. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. It’s taken us two and a half years to get here, and I suspect Eli will kill me if we don’t sign the damn piece of paper by the time it’s over.”

  Bridget scrunched her nose up and filled another bag. She wasn’t sure where to interject or what to even say. She let the two of them talk for a while, but when Kara stopped and reached over to still Sarah’s hand, Bridget realized Sarah was shaking.

  “What’s wrong?” Bridget asked, her eyes wide as she waited for the bomb to drop.

  Sarah shook her head, took in a slow breath and let it out equally as slow. When she looked up and made eye contact with Kara, she seemed to have herself under control again.

  “What was that?” Bridget questioned, bringing the attention in the room back to her.

  Sarah shrugged. “I have anxiety, and with all these people coming and so much going on, it’s been getting the best of me lately. Eli and I have made it work two and a half years with the long distance and lots of time apart, but I do wonder sometimes just how long we can make it.”

  “As long as you both want,” Kara interjected.

  Bridget pursed her lips. Anxiety. She’d heard the term before, so it wasn’t anything new, but seeing someone work through a moment like that so quickly was. Cocking her head to the side, Bridget busied her hands with another bag, mulling through the thought. Conversation got away from them again, but she couldn’t let it go.

  “What does anxiety look like? For you, I mean.”

  “Oh. Well.” Sarah set down the bag she’d been working on. “Mostly I think of the worst-case scenario all the time. Doesn’t matter if something good is happening or not. It’s really hard to stay focused on the good and not let the negative in. In fact, sometimes it gets so bad that it affects me physically.”

  “What do you mean?” Bridget settled and looked Sarah straight in the eye, absorbing as much of the information as possible.

  Sarah glanced at Kara. “I get really bad stomach pains, and sometimes I’m so tense that Eli swears my shoulders are rock hard.”

  Bridget smiled lightly in response to Sarah’s smile, but at the same time, she remembered Eli telling her the same thing. Every word Sarah said twisted something inside her, calling her, as if this was what she had been struggling with for so long. “How do you deal with it?”

  “Different ways. Deep breathing exercises, distraction, obsession.” She laughed at the last one. “Music for instance.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.”

  “Some days. Every day is different but the same. Sometimes I just have to focus on the good. Eli is really amazing at bringing that out for me.”

  “Yeah, she is,” Kara chimed in. “I’ve seen Sarah’s anxiety lessen in the few years she’s known Eli. It’s been amazing.”

  Sarah’s look softened. Kara raised an eyebrow at her in response, and Bridget felt as though she was missing some silent communication.

  “My girlfriend, Alicia, had some issues with anxiety. She’d actually be pretty pissed if she knew I moved back here, but she’d have to get over it.” Kara frowned as she tied the next bag up.

  “Why doesn’t she know you moved?” Bridget started a new bag.

  Kara sighed. “Alicia died in a motorcycle accident, shortly after I found out I was pregnant. I moved here because this is where she was from, and since we weren’t married, I had zero say in what happened after she died. Her parents dragged her back here and buried her here and pretended I didn’t exist.”

  “Oh my God, that’s awful.”

  Nodding, Kara tied the next bag a bit harder. “They have since acknowledged our daughter, although they don’t really want much to do with her.”

  “Why? She’s the last legacy of their daughter.”

  “She is, except they didn’t have a daughter. They had a son. So to them I am a memory of the child they lost, the reason they lost her, and my daughter is the product of something they could never approve of.”

  “I’m so sorry, Kara.” Bridget’s heart broke at the thought.

  Then she remembered her own parents, thinking they would react in much the same way when she came out. They wouldn’t accept her. She knew that as a fact. She had very little hope of it every happening. Yet she still wanted to do it. It wasn’t to prove a point—it wasn’t to make them like her more or understand her. They would never be able to do that.