Always a Love Song Page 4

  “I’ll tell you when you’re not so tipsy,” she said.

  Bridget bopped her forefinger against Alex’s nose. “Not fair.”

  “You won’t even remember this in the morning.”

  “Oh, Alex,” Bridget sighed, “I remember everything about you.”

  Alex’s breath caught. “I love you,” she murmured, feeling her heart fall into rhythm with the confession.

  She’d said it so many times. Bridget had always made it a priority—in random texts, whispered as they were falling asleep, in sticky notes left in lunch bags. She said she did it to make sure Alex didn’t forget. Like Alex could ever forget the surge of happiness that accompanied each utterance. Bridget made it a priority, and so had Alex. She’d said it so many times, but this time felt different.

  Bridget stopped swaying to the music to look Alex full in the eye. Even in the dim lantern light, Bridget’s eyes were a fantastic blue. Then, deliberately—as if she also knew the words were different this time for some reason that hung in the air and yet remained elusive—Bridget leaned forward. A soft groan escaped Alex’s throat as she sank into the kiss. Not their first, not by a long shot, but somehow, it was different.

  Bridget tasted like champagne.

  She tasted like home.

  Now

  Alex cursed under her breath when she pulled up to the building site and saw Bridget and Riley up on the roof. That wasn’t going to end well. Bridget had probably never picked up a hammer before, let alone installed a roof. It was dangerous. She could fall. Imagine the bad press for the town if they let America’s Pop Princess fall off a fucking roof.

  Alex grabbed her tea and Riley’s coffee, exited her truck, and skirted around the volunteers on the ground, Max among them.

  “Hey, Riley,” she called.

  Riley looked up. “Where’s my coffee?”

  Alex held up the to-go cups. “Right here. Now get down here. I want to talk to you.”

  Riley said something to Bridget, who laughed and nodded, before climbing down the ladder. She took the proffered cup and sipped. “Now, what’s got your panties all in a twist?”

  Alex frowned.

  “I can’t see your glare when you’re wearing those sunglasses, you know.”

  Alex pushed them to the top of her head. “Stop being an ass. She shouldn’t be up there.”

  “Why not? She’s an adult.”

  “She’s a first-time volunteer. That’s a liability issue.”

  Riley turned toward the roof and shouted, “Hey, Bridget! Alex thinks you’re too famous to be on the roof!”

  “Come on, Lex,” Bridget called down. “All the things we’ve done on rooftops? I’ve got good balance.”

  Riley snickered.

  Alex pushed her in the shoulder.

  “Okay, Al,” Riley said, “I’m going to cut you some slack because you brought me this delicious coffee, but I don’t really appreciate your insinuation that I’m not careful. In the five years I’ve been running this, not one person has so much as bashed their thumb with a hammer.”

  Alex shifted her weight onto her right foot. “I know.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” Riley’s expression softened. “You going to chill now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Better than nothing, I guess.”

  “You know your way around a roof. You could go up and help her out.”

  “No, I…” Alex looked around. “I’ll find something else to do.”

  “Whatever. You look hot today. I bet she appreciates that.”

  Alex tugged self-consciously at her vest. “Shut up. I always look hot.”

  “Damn right,” Riley said, laughing. “Now go make yourself useful.”

  Alex grumbled as Riley climbed the ladder again. She accidentally met Bridget’s gaze. She froze for a moment because the look on Bridget’s face was thoroughly unexpected—sadness tinged with…affection? That couldn’t be right.

  Turning away, Alex forced her mind to go blank. There was work to be done.

  Bridget unwrapped her sandwich, then turned to Max. “Having fun yet?”

  Beside her, Max nodded. “Oh, yeah. I might be an artsy boy, but I know my way around power tools.”

  Chuckling, she looked around. She and Max sat on the ground in a wide circle of adult volunteers who seemed too nervous to talk to her. A huddle of college kids here for volunteer hours sprawled on the grass nearby, tossing bits of bread at each other. Alex and Riley sat on the front steps of the house. Never had sixty feet felt so much like opposite ends of the world. Bridget let out a long breath, shoulders slumping.

  Max stole a chip from her bag.

  She jerked out of her daze to slap him on the hand. “Hey.”

  “You snooze, you lose, Cal.”

  Bridget scoffed.

  “You should go talk to her.”

  “Like that turned out well last night.”

  “‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again.’ William Edward Hickson.”

  “You’re a nerd, Max.”

  “Yeah, a nerd who’s helping you get your girl back.” His smile turned mischievous. “Maybe I should go over there and talk to her.” He stood up.

  She grasped his elbow and dragged him back down to the ground. “Maybe you should sit your ass down and think again.”

  He collapsed in a fit of laughter.

  “Ugh, this isn’t funny.” She scrubbed her face with her hands, and when she opened her eyes again, she caught Alex staring before quickly averting her gaze. Something clenched in Bridget’s chest, squeezed until she almost couldn’t breathe. Max was right. Obviously Alex wasn’t going to be the one to make a move.

  He gave her knee a squeeze. “Is that you changing your mind?”

  She tightened her ponytail and brushed stray hair behind her ears. “I just… I’m never going to get closure if I can’t get her to at least speak to me. Right?”

  “Mm-hmm. I mean, what could it hurt?”

  It could hurt a lot, actually. It could destroy everything. But hadn’t she already done that five years ago?

  She stood and walked straight toward Alex and Riley, her heart fluttering more with each step. Alex looked amazing, as usual. Her outfit—boots, jeans, gray Henley, black vest—was almost exactly what she used to wear on the camping trips they used to take. Bridget smiled at the memories. Those were some good trips.

  “Hey, Bridget,” Riley said. “What’s up? Need some more Gatorade?”

  That was when Bridget realized she’d been standing in front of them for a good few seconds, staring without saying a word. “Oh, um…I thought I could talk to Alex for a minute. If that’s okay with Alex, of course.”

  Off a small nod from Alex, Riley got up. She touched Bridget’s shoulder as she walked away. As soon as she was out of earshot, the look on Alex’s face told Bridget this might have been a mistake. Still, she steeled herself and took a seat on the steps.

  Breathe, Callahan. Breathe.

  She hadn’t been this close to Alex in years. This proximity used to be so normal. Even before they’d started dating, their friendship was all handholding and chaste touches and a primal desire just to be near the only other person on the planet who got them. The years had been good to Alex, matured her features so that her teenage attractiveness had become straight-up adult beauty. Or perhaps it was the absence that made Bridget appreciate the plump lips, the bottomless brown eyes, the long nose all the more. And, oh, God, her hair. Bridget wanted to bury her fingers in those curls and never look back.

  Alex busied herself with retying her boots, clearly not keen to start the conversation. She hadn’t moved away, though. That was cause to be hopeful, right?

  “Alex…” For a heartbeat, Bridget could pretend nothing had chan
ged. Despite the uncrossable chasm between them, they were tied together by broken promises and broken hearts. That had to count for something.

  “I’ve missed you,” were the words that slipped from her lips. Then she closed her eyes because that was the worst thing to say, something she had no right to say anymore.

  “Look,” Alex said, “I can’t object to you coming back here since it’s your hometown, too, but that doesn’t mean this is eas—” She took a deep breath. “Maybe we should just stay out of each other’s way.”

  She moved to stand, but Bridget put a hand on her knee. Alex glared, the expression foreign and unsettling.

  Bridget jerked her hand away. “I’ll respect that, Alex. I will. But I think a semblance of closure could do us some good.” She swallowed thickly. “One conversation. A few minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  Alex squinted out into the fall sunshine.

  Bridget felt suspended from a string, like Alex’s next words were the only thing keeping her from plunging to her death.

  “Closure,” Alex said with a quiet, mirthless chuckle. Then she stood and brushed off her pants, and just like that, Alex was walking away from her.

  If there was any proof that karma existed, this was it right here—the worst act Bridget had ever committed now turned against her every time they interacted.

  Bridget chased her. Wasn’t that her fate now? To right her wrongs, to fix everything she’d broken or to die trying. Alex wasn’t like her. She was quiet, all of her emotions roiling unseen beneath the surface. She needed time to process things. Bridget knew this, and yet it still felt like a slap in the face. Still felt like punishment.

  “Hey!” Bridget called after her. “Alex!” In her haste, she smacked into a stack of wooden planks, and her foot twisted around. Pain lanced through her toes and ankle, and she fell forward hard onto the grass before a sturdy pair of arms latched around her and gently turned her onto her back. She groaned, not wanting to look and see who it was.

  “Are you all right?” Riley asked, voice too far away to be the person holding her.

  Bridget opened her eyes.

  Alex. Alex was there, on a knee, arms scooped up under Bridget.

  Heat crept up Bridget’s neck. Her cheeks were surely splotchy with it. Fantastic. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  She tried to push to her feet, only to have Alex lift her upright. After the barely there conversation they’d just had, gentleness was the last thing Bridget expected, but Alex allowed Bridget to lean on her as she found her footing.

  Which wasn’t too easy, given that her ankle gave out as soon as she put weight on it. Once again, Alex was there with an arm beneath her shoulders.

  Max came running over. “What’s going on? Bridge, are you all right?”

  “Mostly,” she said. “I think I just twisted my ankle. A little rest, a pack of ice, and I’ll be fine.”

  “No, you should go get it checked out,” Riley said. “Come on. I’ll take you.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Alex said.

  All three heads swiveled toward her.

  Alex shrugged. “That way, you don’t have to call off the day for the other volunteers.”

  Riley looked nonplussed for a second before asking Bridget, “Is that okay with you?”

  Bridget nodded. At least twelve minutes in the car with the woman who kept avoiding her? Yeah, that was more than okay.

  “Okay. Alex, call me later,” Riley said, “especially if it’s anything more than a twist.”

  “Sure,” Alex said.

  “Want me to come along?” Max asked.

  “No,” Bridget said. “It’s probably nothing, anyway. I’ll meet you back home.”

  “Okay.”

  Alex, one arm under Bridget’s, hand splayed against her back, dipped her knees a few inches to make Bridget more comfortable. After a short trek to the curb, they paused beside a relatively new black truck.

  Alex popped the lock and pulled open the passenger door. “It’s a bit of a step. Sorry.”

  Alex helped her up into the cab, even pulled out the seatbelt to hand over and closed the door for her. Bridget watched Alex move around the front of the truck and get in.

  “So, you got a new truck,” Bridget said.

  “Mm-hmm,” Alex agreed as she started the engine and pulled away.

  “Cool.”

  “Comes in handy.”

  Bridget worried her bottom lip. Honestly, why had Alex even volunteered for this if she didn’t want to? And, despite her kindness in helping Bridget into the truck, her short responses and inability to make eye contact showed her cards. She clearly didn’t want to be here. Sore at the thought, Bridget said, “You didn’t have to drive me, you know. Max would have done it.”

  Alex’s voice was flat, unreadable when she said, “Max doesn’t know the way.”

  It would have been a flimsy excuse even before the age of GPS; Bridget knew this town well enough to give directions. So maybe Alex did want to be here, just didn’t want to show it. Bridget fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt, and by the time she thought of something suitable to say, they were pulling into the parking lot of the doctor’s office.

  Dr. Jane Kozlow was six years older than the last time Bridget had seen her, but her take-no-shit face hadn’t aged a day. Bridget lowered her shoulders in an attempt to shrink into the exam table.

  Jane addressed Alex, who stood uncomfortably in the doorway. “Alex, thank you for bringing her, but I’d like to examine the patient in private.”

  “Of course. I’ll be in the waiting room.”

  Bridget licked her lips as her gaze followed Alex’s ass, but her fantasizing was disrupted by Jane smacking her in the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

  Jane crossed her arms. Who knew a sixty-year-old sitting on a swivel stool could be so intimidating? “Level with me, Bridget.”

  The paper rattled as Bridget tightened her grip on the exam table.

  “Scale of one to ten. How badly does your ankle actually hurt?”

  Bridget squished her nose up. “Uh…point-five?”

  Jane nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now, would you care to elaborate on why you’re wasting my time by faking an injury when I could be dealing with real emergencies?”

  “I’m not faking. It hurt for a bit, but the pain pretty much faded on the ride over. And come on, Doc. The only emergencies in this town are the fights over at the bingo hall.”

  “You’d be surprised how vicious people can get over that game. Count yourself lucky if you’ve gotten out of there with only minor scrapes and bruises.” Jane tapped her pen against the clipboard. “And don’t change the subject.”

  Bridget let out a breath and, along with it, a fraction of the tension in her body. “I’m sorry I took up your time, but I did it for love, and—”

  “Oh, well, if it’s for love…”

  “That makes it okay?”

  “Of course not!” Jane said. She straightened the lapels of her white coat. “I expect tickets for your next concert in Pittsburgh for my grandchildren.”

  Unexpected, but easy enough. “Done.”

  Jane gestured. “Continue.”

  “Alex won’t speak to me. She’ll barely even look at me. But when I fell, she was right there, like she hasn’t been able to rid herself of that instinct to protect me. And, starved for any sort of attention from her, I got carried away in the moment.” Bridget frowned.

  Jane narrowed her eyes. “You’re very dramatic. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Many times. Unfortunately, drama kind of comes with the territory,” Bridget said, unsure if she was referring to being a pop star or the tension with her ex.

  “So you came home to get her back?”

  ‘Getting her back’ would require Alex wanting her, too. Bridget would be con
tent with much less. “It factored into the decision.”

  Jane’s gaze lost focus for a moment, as if she were lost in memories. She sighed. “Then I suppose I’ll go along with this little charade of yours.”

  “Thank you!”

  “If you hurt her again, the only head that will roll will be yours. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “And don’t forget those tickets.”

  Bridget eased onto her feet. “I won’t. I promise. Thank you.”

  Hopping slightly, Bridget followed Jane back to the waiting room, where Alex sat sullenly in a chair, playing with the zipper of her vest.

  “Well, she’ll live,” Jane said.

  Alex nodded and stood. “Good.”

  To Bridget, the doctor added, “But you need to keep weight off your foot for a day or two. And you’ll need to ice and elevate it the rest of the day. You’ll see her home, Alex?”

  Alex’s jaw jumped. Bridget did her best to seem in need of aid without being a total damsel in distress, but she was sure, just from her ex-girlfriend’s tense posture, that Alex would say no.

  After a moment, though, Alex waved toward the door. “Come on, then.”

  Relief and anticipation were quickly followed by dread. Because the trip to the doctor’s office had been an awfully quiet one. The thrill that went through her when Alex slipped an arm under hers, though—that was worth all the dread in the world.

  Alex gripped the steering wheel hard. Catching Bridget had been nothing more than a reaction, but it had cost her. Five years of fighting it, and five hours had reduced her to an emotional puddle whose first instinct, upon seeing Bridget stub her toe, was to catch her like this was some heteronormative rom-com.

  She could beat this. Bridget would be gone soon enough. Her life would return to normal. In a few days, she wouldn’t have to worry about Bridget’s presence stirring up old emotions.