Bridgette

 

Bridgette paced back and forth anxiously in the backyard. Kyle would be returning soon. He hadn’t called yet, which he’d promised to do as soon as they found anything. Which likely meant more bad news and another day of “lying low” at the house, watching inane shows and movies and generally trying to distract herself from the nerve-wracking reality she faced.

 

It had already been three days since Kyle and the guys had started tearing her basement apart in search of the elusive stash. It was hard for her to believe there was even anything left for them to look through.

 

They’d torn out everything, barely even leaving the walls intact—which she didn’t like in the least because she was sure that more than a few of them were load-bearing. They’d stripped the drywall apart, dug into some of the concrete filler that separated the buildings, and even started breaking apart the cement floor, as if something could have been hidden there. And all to no avail.

 

The lack of success had made Kyle nearly unbearable. The first day hadn’t been so bad. He’d been pissy and temperamental when he’d first gotten home, but that had melted away after their hot and heavy shower, and the rest of the evening had been relatively pleasant. But with every day that passed that they didn’t find the stash, Kyle grew less measured until they couldn’t even exorcise their mutual aggravation through lovemaking.

 

The day after that, after spending nearly ten hours with the guys in the bakery, he’d returned to the house seething. Every little thing seemed to set him off—even her asking about what they were doing for dinner. Things had come to a head in a protracted episode of bickering, but the passion of their argument transformed at some point to a heated tumble between the sheets.

 

Lying in bed beside him afterward, Bridgette had hoped this “distraction,” as Kyle had put it, could work two ways—that it could function as a much-needed release valve for all the stress both of them were under. She wanted to believe he was still figuring out how to get a handle on things and he would adjust soon so she wasn’t taking on the brunt of his temper.

 

But that didn’t seem to be the case. Bridgette sensed the air wasn’t fully cleared. The tension between them lingered—thick and uncomfortable. And the day after, it seemed things had somehow grown ten times worse.

 

She knew he was under a lot of pressure, and that the strain of everything was probably getting to him. But his moodiness coupled with the fact that she was also uneasy and on edge meant that prolonged conversations between them were bound to become testy, if not explosive. So she tried to occupy herself with bad television and romance novels she downloaded to her phone, especially while he was still around in the morning.

 

It felt like they were growing apart again. She knew that was ridiculous. She was in no position at the moment to be building a real relationship with him and knew she was only sleeping with him because it felt good in the moment. But, still, the distance after those first couple passionate, if combative, days was painful.

 

It was just the current situation, she knew. But part of her wondered if, for all the feelings she still had for him, they were incompatible on some deep level.

 

She tried not to overthink it. She had enough on her mind already.

 

Especially the situation with Gabby. Marcy had been extremely gracious, she knew, but every day she had to call back and ask if Gabby could stay for yet another day, she heard that graciousness erode a little. Bridgette knew she was imposing majorly on Marcy.

 

It was the least of her worries at the moment, but she knew she was damaging a friendship. Not only that, but Marcy was the gossiping type, and that meant she was likely getting a reputation as that single mom who just couldn’t get her shit together. That was going to have an effect on her social life and her professional life. Reputation was everything in a small town, and if people talked too much, it might just be enough to sink her business. If it weren’t already sunk, that was.

 

As if that weren’t enough, she knew she was doing irreparable damage to her relationship with her daughter. She was more tempted every day to just pop over and check on Gabby, even if she couldn’t take her home. But she didn’t dare risk anything, though she was pretty sure Kyle was exaggerating the risk of her being seen with her daughter. She wasn’t about to take any chances with Gabby, even if it meant that she had to make do with phone calls that grew more tepid with each passing day.

 

Gabby would be getting out of school soon. She’d told Marcy she would probably be able to pick Gabby up today. She’d naïvely banked on Kyle finding the stash today.

 

She reasoned they had to—there was nowhere else they could look. They’d even gone through the upstairs and the kitchen just to be safe, even though the guy who’d attacked her had sworn up and down that it was stashed in the basement.

 

But she had a sinking feeling that wouldn’t be the case today. She stopped in front of the slider door that led to the backyard and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Shit, she hated this.

 

She drew a deep breath, then called Marcy again. The phone rang twice before Marcy picked up.

 

“Bridgette? What is it?” Her voice was tired and a touch cold.

 

Bridgette’s throat had constricted. She cleared it before beginning hesitantly, “Marcy? How are you doing?”

 

“Fine,” Marcy replied dryly. “What do you need?”

 

Bridgette started pacing again. She couldn’t do this. She hated how fucking needy she sounded right now. “Marcy, I hate to ask this again, but things have still been crazy over here, and I was wondering if you could possibly take Gabby for just one more day. You’d be doing me a huge favor—“

 

“Listen, hon, it’s been over five days now. I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but I know that police reports don’t take almost a week to file. We love having Gabby over, but Bridgette, this is getting ridiculous. She wants to go home. I know being a single mom must be tough, and I sympathize, I really do, but you have responsibilities. I know it’s hard, but you have to make it work, you know what I mean? Maybe Gabby has to go into work with you. Maybe you have to pay for a babysitter.”

 

Marcy’s admonishing words were like a dagger straight to her heart. Bridgette couldn’t help but feel like she had failed as a mother, and Marcy was trying to find the nicest way possible to tell her she was doing a really shitty job. She had to bite back the tears. “Of course. You’re right. I’ll figure something out. Thanks, Marcy.” Her voice quavered a little as she spoke. She hoped to God that Marcy didn’t notice.

 

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Marcy said, adopting a placating tone. “I’m just trying to be straight with you. Gabby needs her mom. She needs you in her life.”

 

Bridgette could barely swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat. “You’re right. Thanks again for everything, Marcy. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you watching Gabby.” She couldn’t bear to listen to Marcy’s response, so she hung up before the woman could reply.

 

Bridgette wiped the tears from her eyes. There was no time for self-pity now, she told herself. She had to figure out what she was going to do with Gabby.

 

She’d have to go home. She could lay low there, too. She’d just stock up on groceries and stay in the house with Gabby while Kyle figured his shit out with Martin. It wasn’t like there were any guys showing up on Kyle’s doorstep trying to break in and take her. She’d be safe at home, too, and at least there she could be with her daughter.

 

Kyle wouldn’t like it. Not that she gave a flying fuck about what he thought. She wasn’t acting stupidly anymore. And he wasn’t the boss of her. She would do whatever she needed to do.

 

She heard the roar of a bike down the road. It was growing closer and closer. She’d been able to hear his approach every day. The streets were quiet, and his ride made a lot of noise.

 

Bridgette took one final calming breath before heading back inside and toward the front door. She would need all the calm she could get if she was going to get through this discussion with him.

 

Kyle walked in the front door just as she entered into the hallway. Half of a glowing cigarette dangled from his mouth, and the movement of his body as he kicked his shoes off sent showers of ash and ember all over the carpet.

 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to smoke in the house,” she greeted him.

 

His hard, irritated eyes shifted up to her. “Fuck Hawk and fuck his rules. Fucking pussy anyway.”

 

She followed him into the kitchen. She thought he’d head for the fridge like he usually did, but instead he went for the cabinet. He pulled out a tumbler and a bottle of Jack Daniels and proceeded to pour himself a generous glass of liquor as he puffed away on his cigarette.

 

She watched him for a while as he finished off his smoke, alternating between that and hearty sips of his drink. He’d nearly finished his first glass by the time he dropped his cigarette butt into the sink. He immediately refilled his glass from the open bottle before sticking it back in the cupboard.

 

“No luck today, then,” she surmised at last.

 

“You’re a regular fucking detective, aren’t you?”

 

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” she warned him. “I’m not going to put up with it.”

 

Kyle smiled at her, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course you aren’t, baby. Sorry. I should have said no, we didn’t, since I didn’t call you and I didn’t say a damned word when I got home. But I know how much you love to state the obvious.”

 

She was about to call him a jackass, but she stopped herself. She didn’t need to needle him any further, not when she was about to tell him that she was headed home. Though she guessed that, given his current state, he was going to be an absolute joy to deal with.

 

“So,” she began, “I was just talking to the friend who’s been keeping an eye on my daughter…”

 

“And?” Kyle snapped.

 

She lost her courage and shrugged weakly.

 

Kyle snorted derisively. He shouldered past her, drink in hand, and headed for the living room.

 

She trailed behind him, keeping her distance.

 

Kyle collapsed onto the couch and flipped the television on. She watched as he took another deep draft of his drink.

 

“She says my kid can’t stay with her anymore,” Bridgette blurted out. “I have to pick her up from school today and take her home.”

 

“Stupid bitch,” Kyle muttered under his breath. “Shit, don’t you have other friends? Can’t you drop her off at daycare or something? What about your parents?”

 

Bridgette almost lost it at that. He knew she didn’t get along with them. He knew she couldn’t stand them, that she’d gotten the hell out of that house as soon as she could and never looked back. He knew better than to bring them up. “They moved to Florida. And you fucking know I would never bring my daughter anywhere near them.”

 

“Right. Sorry.” He did sound a little abashed, she thought, but not nearly as apologetic as he should have been. “Fine. So just bring her over here.”

 

“That had better be a joke,” Bridgette hissed. “I told you she’s not coming within a hundred feet of you. That hasn’t changed. Especially not now that you’re chugging hard liquor and stepping up your asshole game.”

 

Kyle turned back to face her, face twisted in a look of annoyance. “Shit, Bridge, if you brought her over I’d be on my best behavior, pinky swear. Besides, what else are you going to do, huh? Unless there’s someone else who can take her—“

 

“I’m picking her up from school and taking her back to the house, where I’ll stay with her. We’ll get our groceries and we’ll keep out of sight until you figure all this out, just like I’ve been doing here.”

 

“Goddamn it, I told you how bad of an idea that is. Martin’s got guys in town already. They’ll be watching you. They see you pick her up and it’s game over, Bridge. They’ll get their hands on her and then you’ll be royally fucking screwed. Either you make other arrangements or you bring her over here. Those are your choices.”

 

“I’m going home.” Bridgette felt her hands ball into fists at her sides. “That is my call to make. You hear me? I’m going to go pick her up from school and then I’ll go home. And I’ll stay there until I get the all-clear from you. But you had better not follow me or stalk me or anything. You had better stay the hell away from me. Or I will call the cops.”

 

Kyle was up on his feet then. “What’s this really about?” he demanded, closing the distance between them.

 

Bridgette retreated into the bedroom and began throwing her things into her bag. She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. There was no way for her to fully articulate everything she was feeling right then.

 

“Look, I know I’ve been a little…well, I’ve been acting like a dick. But it’s just this shit with Martin, I swear. You know how I am, Bridge. I don’t give a fuck who gets in my way when I’m blowing off steam.”

 

“It’s not that,” she told him quietly, zipping her bag shut and throwing it over her shoulder. She grabbed her purse from the nightstand and began walking toward the front door.

 

“What, then? Things have been fine until now. Your kid doesn’t need you that badly either. It hasn’t even been a week. That’s nothing. Kids go away to summer camp for longer. There’s no need to be stupid about this.”

 

“I need to do what’s best for us, and staying here isn’t it.” Bridgette reached her car. She was amazed Kyle hadn’t grabbed her yet or physically tried to stop her.

 

“You’re risking her life,” Kyle snarled. But he still kept his distance, his blue eyes bright and sharp on her. “You’re risking your life. You don’t even know what you’re doing. You want me to talk to your friend? You want me to explain why she needs to keep watching your kid?”

 

Bridgette got into her car, tossing her bag and purse onto the passenger side seat. There was no point in arguing with him. She wasn’t going to make him understand. As long as he was letting her go, she figured she might as well take the opportunity.

 

She turned the key in the ignition and backed slowly down the driveway, keeping her eyes focused on her rearview mirror. She wasn’t going to look at Kyle. She wasn’t going to second-guess herself.

 

As she pulled out onto the street, though, she caught a glimpse of him standing in the middle of the driveway, looking lost. She saw his expression, and the look in his eyes.

 

He was furious.