Before leaving Braxville, Bridgette had started a file. She removed it from her bag and flipped it open. The first sheet was the health questionnaire she’d already mentioned. She got his height, weight and age before moving on to the rest of the items covered.
“Are you a smoker?” she began.
“No.”
“Ever smoked?”
“Does trying twice when I was a teenager count?”
“Not really,” said Bridgette, but it was her job to take note of everything.
“Prior to your cancer diagnosis, did you drink alcohol?”
“Sure.”
“How often.”
Paul puffed out his cheeks, blowing out the air in a single gust. “A beer or two a week.”
“Any illegal drugs?”
“Never.”
For the next thirty minutes, she asked questions about his health. As expected, there was nothing of note. Next, she moved on to his work history. Like the two generations of Walkers before Paul, he had helped his father run the hardware store. “I worked there six days a week from eighteen years old to the age of fifty-eight,” Paul said, his chest expanding with pride.
“What changed when you turned fifty-eight?” Bridgette asked.
“He retired,” said Luke. These were the first words he’d said in nearly half an hour. Once Luke had gotten the fire started and sat quietly in the adjacent living room.
“Why’d you retire at such a young age,” Bridgette asked. Sure, it was an intrusive question, but intruding into all parts of Paul Walker’s life was the only way to discover the truth.
“To be honest,” said Paul, “I tire easily. It’s hard to get through an entire day without needing a nap.”
“Did you seek any medical opinion as to your lethargy?”
“The doctors ran a whole host of tests,” said Luke, rising from the living room and coming to take a seat next to his father. “They checked for sleeping disorders, anemia, Lyme disease and found nothing wrong.”
Paul added, “In the end, the doctor felt the cancer made me old before my time.”
Bridgette couldn’t help but think of Ernest O’Rourke and how he looked older than his years. Try as she might, Bridgette couldn’t ignore the connection to Colton Construction. Despite the fact that she’d asked once before, she couldn’t help but ask again. “And the only job you’ve ever held was at the hardware store?”
“The store is part of our family,” he said with a sigh.
It was then that Bridgette noticed dark circles ringing Paul’s eyes. His shoulders were stooped, and she figured now was the time he needed a rest. “Why don’t you go to the sofa and enjoy the fire. I packed a cooler with sandwich fixings. It’s in the SUV. We can eat before finishing the interview.”
Opening the back door, Luke held it for Bridgette as she passed. “I’ll help.”
The sun was low on the horizon. The water of the lake reflected the sky, making it look as if there were two worlds, one stacked atop the other.
They returned to the cabin with the cooler. Stretched out, with his eyes closed, Luke’s father snored softly.
“I didn’t mean to wear him out,” she said, a twinge of guilt in her chest.
“It’s not you, but now you can see why he retired.”
“He’s lucky that you were able to take over the hardware store,” said Bridgette.
Luke shrugged. “You know how it is with family-owned businesses.”
She did. Sort of, at least.
“It’s a nice time for a walk,” said Luke. “Want to go while Dad naps?”
“Absolutely,” said Bridgette as he grabbed a denim jacket and slipped it on.
Without discussion, they wandered toward a trail through the woods. It was a path she knew well. Dried leaves carpeted the forest floor and crunched underfoot. “When I was a kid, my brothers and I pretended that elves and fairies lived in these woods and left out food. We were convinced elves took everything because it was always gone in the morning.”
“Sounds like a nice childhood,” said Luke.
“Ty and Jordana, being older and wiser, said we were dumb kids who didn’t know better.”
“Wow. That’s harsh,” he said.
“One night, I snuck out of the house to see what was taking the food we left.”
“And what’d you find?” Luke asked.
“Raccoons,” said Bridgette with a laugh.
They’d walked over half a mile, and there, in the middle of a clearing, was a well. The casing was green with moss and lichen. The stones were worn smooth from time and the weather. The crossbar was askew, and the only thing left from the rope was a few blackened strands. A wooden bench sat nearby, and Bridgette took a seat. “That night I kind of grew up. But to this day, I still think that this place is magical.”
Dense woods encroached on the glade, the trees at the peak of their autumnal glory. Luke stood next to Bridgette, resting his foot on the bench’s crossbeam. Her palms ached with the need to reach out and touch him. She slid her hands under her thighs.
He said, “I can see why you thought this place was magic, the raccoons notwithstanding.”
She laughed. “You better watch out—I’m starting to like all your corny jokes.”
“I’m not afraid, you know.” He sat next to her, his thigh brushing against hers. “Should we talk about last night?” he asked.
“The kiss?” she asked, moving her leg closer to his.
“Yeah. The kiss. Was it just a kiss, or is there more?”
Bridgette had asked herself that same question more than once. She hadn’t come up with an answer, which seemed to be an answer in itself. “I’m glad we’ve crossed paths again, Luke. You are a sincerely kind person.”
“Uh-oh,” he said. “Every good friend-zone speech begins with those exact words.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s too much history between us, and I can’t see repeating the same mistakes.”
Luke’s spine stiffened. He moved his leg and they no longer touched. “A mistake? Is that what I am to you—a freaking mistake?”
Damn. Bridgette’s chest contracted.
Then memories of that day returned to her with a clarity that stole her breath. Bridgette was a freshman in college, just nineteen years old, and away from home for the first time in her life. She’d locked herself in one of the stalls of the communal bath and leaned against the metal wall. She stared at the plastic tube in her hand. A plus sign appeared in the results window of the pregnancy test.
She didn’t need to read the directions. She knew what it meant. She was pregnant with Luke Walker’s baby.
She had wrapped the pregnancy test in half a roll of toilet paper and shoved it deep into the garbage can by the door. Her eyes burned. Thank goodness that her roommate was in class. Bridgette couldn’t have faced anyone else.
All the same, she couldn’t suffer through the moment alone. She had to call, well, someone.
Her mother? Lilly was near to perfect and wouldn’t understand how Bridgette—smart as she was—would make such a dumb mistake.
Jordana? Yvette? Sure, her sisters cared, but what could they have done?
Bridgette had known there was really only one person for her to call. Sliding up the face of her phone, she’d typed a series of numbers.
“Hey,” said Luke, answering after the second ring. Her chest had hurt, making it hard to breathe. “Bridgette, is that you? Are you there?”
She’d wiped her eyes and put a smile in her voice. “Luke, how are you?”
“Lousy,” he’d said. “I’m working, like constantly. You know my dad. He’s not feeling too hot and can’t work too much. I had to drop out of my intro to engineering class at the community college. This is total crap.”
“I’m sorry, Luke. That does sound awful.”
“It is.” He had paused and huffed a breath. “What’s worse, I’m actually worried. What if something’s wrong with my dad again, you know?”
“I know,” she said. In that moment, Bridgette had made a decision. She wouldn’t burden Luke further.
“Did you call for a reason? Or just to chat?”
“Just to chat, I guess.”
“Listen, I love the sound of your voice and I miss you, babe. A customer just came in. I gotta blow. Laters.”
She never even got a chance to say goodbye. Before she could speak, the line was dead. Her stomach had contracted, bending her almost double. As the pain ebbed, Bridgette tried to tell herself that it was all a normal part of pregnancy.
Then again, she knew better.
Her period had started later that night.
And she had been left with a single question. What if I had said something to Luke? Would things have turned out differently?
Then she was back in the present. He was sitting beside her as the last light of day slipped beyond the horizon.
“Listen, Luke,” she began. “I hadn’t meant to imply that there’s something wrong with you.”
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “Did you hear that?”
“No,” she said, following his gaze. “Hear what?”
“There’s something in the bushes.” Luke rose to his feet and walked toward a copse of trees with scrub clinging to the base of their trunks.
“Elves?” she joked. “Or is it a raccoon.”
“It definitely sounded like someone walking through the woods. Bigger than a raccoon and more real than an elf.”
“This is all private property,” said Bridgette. “Nobody else should be out here.”
“Key word—should. Stay here,” he said. “I’m going to check it out.”
His sudden alarm left her heart racing. Bridgette stumbled after him. “You aren’t going to leave me all by myself.”
He paused and worked his jaw back and forth. Bridgette could tell that he wanted to argue. She didn’t wait for what he planned to say, and she strode toward the tree line. Luke caught up with her. Grabbing her arm, he pulled back gently. “At least let me go first.”
They walked into the woods. The spindly branches of trees rose to a sky of soft blue. Dried leaves covered the ground and crunched with each step taken. As the sun began to set, the air held a chill. “Maybe you just heard the wind in the trees,” Bridgette suggested, even though she hadn’t recalled a breeze blowing.
“Maybe,” said Luke, his tone guarded.
“Well, whatever you heard is obviously gone now.”
He turned a slow circle, scanning the forest. “I guess you’re right. We should head back.”
Side by side, Luke and Bridgette retraced their steps. Her earlier foible sat heavy on her chest. “You aren’t a mistake,” she said with an exhale. “There are just things that happened between you and me, things that make our past complicated. Do you understand?”
For a long moment, Luke said nothing. Then he grumbled, “Understand? Not at all.”
“Can you trust me that we had complications and those scare the hell out of me?”
“Oh, so now I’m a complication?” His tone was as hard as flint.
“No, that’s not what I meant, either.” They’d returned to the clearing with the bench and the well. “We should just head back to the fishing cabin. If your dad wakes up, he’ll wonder where we’ve gone.”
Luke reached for her arm, pulling Bridgette to a stop. “Not a chance. It sounds like there’s something important I need to know—and you haven’t told me.”
Bridgette shook her head and shrugged off his touch. “Forget I said anything.”
“You’ve dropped more than one cryptic hint, Bridgette. Whatever the problem was, I have a right to know.”
“The last time we were together at Lake Kanopolis,” she began.
“The night before you went to college, you mean?”
“We, well, had sex.”
“I remember that, too.”
Bridgette couldn’t find the right words. Then again there was nothing complicated about what she needed to say. “I got pregnant.”
Luke went pale. “You what?”
“About two months after I went to college, I realized I was pregnant.”
“Why in the hell is this the first time I’m hearing about a baby?”
“I called you,” she began. “Your father was sick, forcing you to drop out of school. I couldn’t add to your concerns. I decided to call you later and then...” Her voice caught with emotion. She shrugged.
“And then,” Luke prodded.
“And then.” Bridgette’s eyes stung with unshed tears. She tried to blink them away, but they slipped down her cheeks. “I lost the baby and there was nothing more to tell.”
Luke looked at the ground and shook his head. “I never knew.”
“Of course not,” said Bridgette, wiping away tears with the side of her sleeve. “I never told you.”
“Have you ever told anyone? Or have you been living with this secret your entire life?”
She shrugged again.
“Your sisters?” he asked. “Your mom?”
With a shake of her head, she said, “No, none of them.”
“You told your late husband, right?”
For the first time in her life, she realized telling Henry had been a betrayal of Luke. “I’m sorry. I just thought that after the miscarriage there was nothing else to concern you. I know now that I was wrong. I should have said something to you at some time.”
Luke stepped toward Bridgette and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He pulled her to him. She laid her head upon his chest and inhaled. His scent, the sweet smell of fresh-cut lumber and the musky scent of his skin, overwhelmed her senses. His hands rested on the small of her back. Her breasts were pressed against his pecs. To be held by Luke reminded Bridgette of how long she’d gone without the company of a man.
“I’m not mad,” he said, his words washing over her.
Lifting her chin, Bridgette looked up at Luke. “What are you, then?”
“Sad, I guess. I wish things would’ve worked out differently.”
In the days and weeks to come, Bridgette wasn’t sure how the kiss began. Had she placed her mouth on Luke’s first? Or was it the other way around? What she did know was that their lips were pressed together, their tongues in a tangled dance.
He gripped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. Despite her layers of clothes, she hardened under his touch.
“Oh, Luke,” she moaned.
He placed a line of kisses on her throat and she began to burn from within. Desire consumed her. She splayed her hands across his chest, his heartbeat racing beneath her palms. Bridgette reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, exposing a line of his abdomen. She ran her fingers over his flesh.
He gripped her ass, pressing her to him. He was hard and wanted her as much as she wanted him. She lowered her touch, feeling his length through the fabric of his jeans. He let out a low growl.
“You like when I touch you like that?” she asked, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth.
“God, yes,” he breathed.
She worked the buttons of his fly loose and reached into his jeans, stroking the silky skin of his sex. It had been so long since she’d touched anyone in an intimate way. For a moment, Bridgette wondered if she’d forgotten how to give—or receive—pleasure. A bead of moisture clung to the head of his penis. She collected it with the tip of her finger and glided her palm down his shaft.
He claimed her mouth with his, and this time the kiss was hard and urgent. “God, you’re so sexy and that feels fantastic,” he said, grabbing a handful of her hair. “But I want to make you feel good, too.”
“I can wait my turn,” she said.
“Or we can do this together.”
“Out here? In the woods?” She worked her hand up and down his length, and Luke hardened with her touch.
“Who’s here to see us?” he asked, unfastening the top button of her pants. He pulled down the zipper and reached into her jeans and then her panties.
Bridgette was already wet, and he slid his finger over the opening of her sex. His touch sent a shock wave of pleasure through her body, and she trembled with desire. “Do you like it when I touch you like that?” he asked, echoing her earlier question.
“Yes,” she said. She parted her thighs, giving Luke more access. Bridgette could feel herself slipping away and expanding at the same time. She was becoming one with a feeling as old as time, while experiencing something that was wholly new.
The climax crashed down on Bridgette with the force of an avalanche and left her breathless. How long had it been since a hand other than her own had brought her pleasure? Then again, she knew the answer.
The last time she had been touched was two years ago. For the first time, she no longer needed to cling to the past. The question was—what did Bridgette want to find in her future?