Always a Love Song Read online

  After the show, Bridget pulled out her phone and texted someone she hadn’t spoken to in years, hoping her number was still the same.

  I’m about to tell all my followers I’m going back home for a much-needed break. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone else.

  Then, as an afterthought: And this is Bridget. In case you lost my number.

  The reply came a few minutes later: I know who it is. Thanks for telling me.

  You’re okay with it? Bridget asked.

  This response was quicker. It’s your hometown, too. I’m sorry if you stayed away all this time because of me.

  Bridget let go of the breath she was holding. You always were a better person than me. Maybe I’ll see you around?

  This time, there was no reply.

  Chapter Two

  Then

  Bridget flopped onto Alex’s tiny twin bed as Alex peeled off her sweatshirt and hung it in her closet. Most of their friends, including Alex’s roommate, had gone home for fall break, but they’d elected to stay on campus to spend some time together that didn’t include homework or a dozen other people.

  “I’m stuffed,” Bridget said, hands on her stomach, eyes closed.

  “We could’ve brought home leftovers, you know,” Alex said.

  “But it looked and tasted so good. No regrets.”

  Alex’s soft laugh put a smile on Bridget’s face, too. Even in the tiny freshman dorm room, she sounded too far away. Bridget popped an eye open to see Alex perched on the other bed. Hmm.

  Scooting up so she was sitting against the headboard, Bridget patted the spot next to her. It was a squeeze, but they’d spent a lot of time in twin beds together. “Come ‘ere.”

  Alex curled her hands around the edge of the mattress, staring at the floor without answering.

  Bridget considered her girlfriend—her beautiful, intelligent, confident girlfriend. Adjusting to college life had been difficult and sometimes weird. Bridget missed home a lot more than she’d thought she would, especially considering they were only an hour away, but Alex’s presence lessened the sting. Because Alex was home, in a way. Alex made Bridget feel comfortable and cared for.

  So, why, all of a sudden, was she acting so distant?

  “I thought we stayed here to spend extra time together without distractions,” Bridget said quietly. “Do you want me to go back to my room?”

  “What? No. No, I don’t want you to go.” Alex injected bravado into her voice, but she still couldn’t quite meet Bridget’s eye.

  Maybe she was just tired. Or itching to get a jump on all the homework she’d have to do on Sunday. If that was it, though, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d spent the night quietly working on different projects.

  No, this was something more. This was something new, which meant something had to have changed, and the only thing that had changed was…

  Oh.

  “This is the first time we’ll be alone without roommates. Maybe you think I have…expectations?”

  Alex didn’t say anything, only took a deep breath.

  So that was it. Bridget, who’d always been more comfortable with her body and with physicality, didn’t mind waiting. Not for Alex. While five months may be a long time to other eighteen-year-olds, Bridget wasn’t going to jeopardize something this special.

  She moved to the edge of the bed, where she could face Alex. “I know we haven’t really talked about it, so if I’m off base, let me know. But…I don’t think I am.”

  Alex shook her head.

  “So, let’s talk about it.” Bridget turned her hand palm-up and rested it on her knee within Alex’s reach. She wouldn’t push in any way, but she craved contact. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that.”

  “You didn’t,” Alex said quickly.

  “Then what did?”

  “Only every single book and movie ever made,” Alex replied, chuckling weakly. But she reached out her hand to hold Bridget’s.

  Despite the unexpected heaviness of the moment, Bridget smiled. She loved holding Alex’s hand—even when it was slightly clammy.

  “I didn’t want you to get bored,” Alex said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to be that girlfriend who made you wait so long that you left.”

  Bridget couldn’t help but be upset by that. She should’ve done more to reassure Alex. “Can I sit by you?”

  Alex nodded.

  Bridget moved to the other bed, keeping one hand in Alex’s and sliding the other to her back. “I’m never going to pressure you into having sex before you’re ready, and if I do, I deserve to be kicked to the curb. Got it?”

  Alex squeezed her hand.

  “Good. I just like spending time with you, baby, no matter what we do. I’ve watched you do homework and loved it.”

  That earned her a tiny laugh.

  “All I want to do tonight is cuddle and watch a movie. We aren’t going to do anything more than that until you want to. Hell, if you never want to, we can figure that out, too.”

  “No, I want to, I think,” Alex said shyly. “Just not tonight.”

  “Definitely not tonight.” Bridget pressed a kiss into Alex’s hair. “I’ve got two promises for you. Are you ready?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “We’ll never do anything unless we’re both comfortable with it.”

  Alex leaned her head on Bridget’s shoulder. “Okay.”

  “And when the time comes,” Bridget said, “I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you, Lex.”

  Now

  “Mom!” Bridget exclaimed as she and Max exited the rental SUV.

  Evelyn Callahan met her in the driveway with a bear hug. “It’s been far too long since you’ve been home.”

  Bridget rolled her eyes, grateful her mom couldn’t see. “And here, I thought we’d make it inside before you chastised me.”

  “Oh, hush,” Evelyn said. “I love you, but you deserve it for staying away so long.”

  “I’ve flown you out to visit me multiple times each year!”

  Evelyn ignored her in favor of hugging Max. “Max! How are you, dear?”

  He grinned. “Doing well. Thank you, Mrs. C.”

  “Come in. Come in.” Evelyn waved them toward the house. “I’m sure you two are hungry from traveling all day.”

  Bridget and Max grabbed their suitcases from the trunk before following, but Bridget only made it to the foyer before she stopped. Little touches were different—a painting here, a lamp there—but the majority of the house was unchanged. A wooden staircase covered in a Persian runner led up to the second floor. The dining room off to the left featured a rectangular table that seated twelve. It was a bit less crowded than it used to be, what with Bridget’s dad gone and Bridget herself a coward who never came home. Her brothers were still in the area, though, one thirty minutes away and the other an hour, so the table still got good use.

  She regretted not coming home sooner. But it had never been about her family. Even now, though, she was afraid to examine her true motives, afraid to find Alex there, at the heart of it all.

  “The house looks great, Mom,” she said.

  “And it smells like cookies,” Max said.

  “Fresh from the oven,” Evelyn said with a smile, “but you’ll have to wait for them to cool.”

  Bridget wandered into the living room while Max and her mom chatted. The TV was a lot bigger, but the couch was still the same brown one she loved so much. Beneath it, nestled beside the stereo, were two CDs. Her own. She pulled them out. Attached to the front of each was a sticky note in her own hand, both addressed to Alex. Hot tears welled in her eyes.

  She strode back into the foyer and held up the CDs. “You never gave them to her?” She hated how small her voice sounded.

  Evelyn wrapped an arm around Bridget’s shoulde
rs. “I tried, honey.”

  So she didn’t want them. Of course she didn’t. Bridget wouldn’t take anything from a selfish ex, either.

  “This is probably a good time to tell you that in the basement, there are a few boxes of your stuff from the apartment,” Evelyn said. “She couldn’t take everything, and I didn’t quite know what to do with it.”

  Bridget choked out a half-sob, half-laugh. More shit that she’d run away from all those years ago. This whole trip was going to be an exercise in delayed pain. “Why would now be a good time to tell me that?”

  “You have to rip off the Band-Aid all at once, Bridgie.”

  Bridget bit her bottom lip. “I’d rather just find a stronger Band-Aid.”

  Evelyn chuckled. “You can’t keep running away from the things that hurt you. You’ve got to face her sometime.”

  Bridget knew that. She also knew that as soon as she saw Alex again, she’d want to run straight back into her arms. The problem was that Alex wanted nothing to do with her, and Bridget couldn’t blame her.

  “Well, why don’t I show you to the guest room?” Evelyn said to Max.

  His room was the first at the top of the stairs. It used to be Marcus and Ian’s room before they’d moved out for good. Now, the sports and movie posters had been replaced by plain yellow walls, and the twin beds had been swapped for a single queen-sized one with a dark blue comforter. It was comfortable without being too inviting or interesting.

  Max set down his suitcase at the foot of the bed. “Looks great, Mrs. C. Thanks.”

  “Oh, Max, you’re so easy to please,” Evelyn said, looking pleased, too.

  Bridget dragged her bags to her old bedroom. She stopped in the doorway. It was so…unremarkable. And so much the same, even though the walls boasted a new coat of light gold paint and her mom had swapped out most of the furniture. A queen bed covered by a striped red duvet. A bookshelf. A desk bare of a laptop or papers. An old guitar in a stand in the corner.

  This tiny room was imbued with so many memories, mostly good. Middle-school sleepovers. Playing songs for Alex on her very first guitar. Late mornings after high-school parties. The first time they’d had sex. All the other times they’d had sex in this bed. The times they’d cuddled and watched movies instead.

  Some memories not so good. The week after her father died. The crushing emptiness of the room when they’d fought and Bridget wanted to call the only person who didn’t want to hear from her.

  Even with all the trappings changed and Bridget’s belongings gone, Alex was in every single atom of this room. Fuck, she couldn’t do this. She’d just sleep on the couch.

  With a grunt, she hefted her duffel and her suitcase and headed back downstairs.

  Evelyn’s voice followed her. “Honey, where are you going?”

  “Downstairs.” Bridget set her suitcase at the foot of the couch. This could do. Maybe a couch wasn’t the best choice for an extended stay, but she had the TV, and the kitchen was right there.

  “With your bags?” Evelyn asked.

  “Yeah,” Bridget called.

  “Oh.” Rapid footsteps down the stairs. Then her mom was in the living room, hands on her hips. “You won’t get very much rest here, you know.”

  “Well, I can’t…” Bridget swallowed down the tightness in her throat. “I can’t stay there.”

  Evelyn hummed. “I thought I’d changed it enough that it wouldn’t matter. You’ll switch with Max, then.”

  A surge of gratitude welled in Bridget. Her refusal to come home had to have been tough on her mom, and yet Evelyn hadn’t pushed, and she wouldn’t push. She wouldn’t because she already knew. She knew Bridget’s heart was a shattered mess clumsily taped together, and she knew it was all Bridget’s own fault. Her greatest mistake and her greatest regret.

  She should keep a count of how many times she got a breath away from letting the tears fall this trip.

  “Yeah, Mom,” she managed. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  At the opposite end of the bar, Riley jerked her chin in the direction of the door. “Incoming.”

  Lu, Jordan, and Owen walked in, Owen pushing a sleeping Keiko in her stroller. Benny barked and padded over to greet them, tail wagging.

  “Hey,” Alex called from behind the bar. “The usual starter?”

  “Yes, please!” Jordan said.

  The group sat at their usual table in the back. Alex poured Life on the Berm draft into three steins and brought them over, leaving Riley and Hunter to man the bar. Benny had already settled beneath the table by Lu’s feet.

  “Thanks, Al,” Lu said, sipping the foam from the top of hers.

  “So, we heard She Who Must Not Be Named is officially back in town,” Owen said.

  Jordan elbowed him in the side, but Alex just smiled. “Have you guys seen her? Fawned all over her yet?”

  The three exchanged glances, guilty enough that she threw up her hands. “What? Just say it.”

  “Is that allowed?” Jordan asked meekly. “Fawning?”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

  “You’re never too old for a good bop,” Owen said, “and she’s got a few.”

  “Yeah, and she’s also got enough people fawning over her.”

  “Actually,” Jordan said, “from what I can tell, people are trying to be respectful of her space. She’s on vacation, after all.”

  “Still, if you three make a big deal about it, she’ll get an even bigger head.”

  “Then she won’t even be able to fit through the door,” Owen said.

  Alex snorted. Like that was a concern. “I doubt she’ll be coming in here.”

  Lu laughed, earning a glare from Jordan. “What? Saying you won’t run into your ex is, like, the first rule of dealing with exes. It dooms you.”

  “Thank you for that brilliant advice, Lu,” Alex said, a little too harshly.

  “Don’t be sore. I’m just looking out for you.”

  “You don’t have to anymore. I’m a big girl.” When she caught sight of their skeptical faces, Alex took a deep breath. “Look, guys, relax. I’m fine.”

  Before any of them could respond, Riley said from the bar, “I’m going on my break, Al.”

  Alex nodded. “Sure.”

  “Hey, Benny. Want to go for a walk?”

  The pit bull lifted his head at the last word. When Riley walked toward the door, he ran after her.

  “Thanks, Ri,” Alex called.

  “Don’t mention it. See you in half an hour.”

  Lu leaned forward. “The whole town’s talking, you know.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Alex said nonchalantly. “What about?”

  “As far as we can tell,” Owen said, “half of them are thrilled the prodigal daughter has returned.”

  “And the other half?”

  “Out for the prodigal daughter’s blood,” Jordan said, the corners of her mouth twitching with the beginnings of a grin. “For…you know.”

  “Yeah,” Alex said. For breaking her heart. The whole town had watched their romance blossom and later implode. “Well, I’ll be sure to send half the town thank-you cards when she leaves.”

  Lu took a long drink. “So, what’ll it be? Should we tar and feather her?”

  God, she didn’t need them to come this far over to her side. Bridget was still someone Alex had once loved. She rested her forearms on the table. “How would you guys treat her if I weren’t in the equation?”

  Jordan sighed. “We’d flip out. In a good way.”

  “Seeing her after five years?” Lu added. “Yeah, she was our friend, too.”

  “Okay, well,” Alex said with a shrug, “maybe you should do that, then.”

  Max strummed an A chord. “What are you thinking for this line?”

  “Which one?” Br
idget asked, consulting the lyrics she’d scrawled into a notebook on the plane.

  They sat on adjacent stools in the basement studio Bridget’s parents had built when she was fifteen, and they realized she was more than a little serious about music. The glass box wasn’t big enough to fit a whole band, just a keyboard, a couple guitars, and a drum kit if they wanted to be ambitious. It was perfect for just her and Max, which was how they had started. Sometimes, she thought that was how they would end, too. The two of them and their guitars. What a quartet they made.

  “‘Her name was Sorrow,’” Max said. He strummed the chord again and tried out a vocal line.

  Bridget shook her head. “No, not quite like that.” She tried an A minor and sang a variation. “‘Her name was Sorrow. She had my face.’”

  “You want harmony on that?”

  “I don’t know yet. Maybe on the next two lines?”

  “‘Your name was Hope. You taught me grace’?”

  “Yeah.” She scribbled chord notations over the lyrics.

  Max plucked out the melody. “Are we ever going to write a happy song again?”

  “What are you talking about? We write happy songs all the time.”

  “‘Up-tempo’ and ‘happy’ aren’t the same thing.”

  Bridget lifted her gaze to meet his. His brown eyes were full of concern. If she couldn’t tell him about the turmoil she was feeling, she couldn’t tell anyone.

  “I’m trying,” she said.

  “I know, and I don’t mean to push you.”

  “It’s just a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Coming home.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “To help me mine past heartbreak to use for song lyrics?”

  “Something like that, yeah.” He tapped the body of his guitar. “I’m just saying. Maybe it’s time to mine my heartbreak instead.”

  Bridget laughed. Maybe she was getting to be a broken record.

  When Evelyn knocked on the studio window a moment later, they set down their guitars and came out to the main part of the basement. It wasn’t much to look at—a wooden coffee table, a forest green futon, a flat-screen TV sitting on a chest against the opposite wall, and a pile of boxes in the corner.