Chapter 10

Bridgett

Hell No

Sitting on the floor in the laundry room, I giggle as Lola’s puppies—who I’ve named Coco, Louie, and Chanel—attempt to waddle around me with their eyes barely open. I had no idea they could get any cuter, but as they gain weight and become more active, they do. And if there was a way I could convince Noah to keep them all, I would. But he’s already told me he’s only keeping Chanel. A couple of people he works with are adopting the other two.

Hearing the back door that leads to the garage open, my nerves start to buzz. Today, both Noah and I have the day off, which means I can’t avoid him—something I’ve gotten very good at doing.

“You still in here with them?” He stops in the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest as he watches me, making me feel self-conscious, especially since the only thing I did today was brush my teeth and tie my hair up into a bun. It doesn’t help that he looks ready to break hearts, even in sweats and a hoodie, with a backward ball cap on his head.

“I can’t help it. They are so cute.” I pick up the puppy closest to me and kiss the top of its furry head. “When I move out, I might just tuck one of them in my bag.” I smile as he laughs, then ask, “What were you doing outside?”

“Just cleaning up some of the leaves and shit from the gardens since the weather is warming up.”

“Do you want some help? ”

“No, I’m just about done. I was only coming in for a garbage bag.” He lets his arms fall to his sides, then looks down the hall. “Are you cooking?”

“I put on a pot of Guinness stew.”

“Smells good.” He taps the edge of the door before walking off. Since there is no way I’ll just sit on my butt and not help him, I carefully place all three puppies back in the box with Lola, who’s been snoozing as I babysat, then get up off the floor. With Noah in the kitchen digging under the sink, I head to my room and put on a sweater and boots, then grab my vest out of the closet. I walk out of my room, and as soon as his eyes lock on me, he frowns.

“Where are you going?”

“To help you.” I walk to where he’s standing and take the garbage bags out of his hand. “Is that okay?”

“I’m guessing if I say no, you’ll ignore me, so sure.” He looks me over, then shakes his head. “Do you have a hat?”

“No, but I don’t think I need one.”

“Babe, it’s cold. Come on.” He places his hand against my lower back, then leads me down the hall, letting his palm fall away as he goes into the laundry room. “You can use this.” He comes back a second later and starts to place his navy-blue beanie on my head, then stops. “You need to take your hair down,” he mumbles. Then, with a flick of his wrist, my hair comes tumbling out of the bun I had it in, and he places his police-issued hat on my head.

“Thanks,” I mumble, fixing my hair as his eyes roam over my face.

“Sure.” He takes a step back away from me, then turns to head down the hall and opens the door. When we get outside, we go to the front of the house where not a small but a huge pile of leaves and yard debris waits.

“You can help by holding the bag.” He walks around me to the mound, and I open the bag for him, then look at the driveway when I hear a car. With the trees scattered throughout the yard, it takes a second to see the vehicle, but when I spot a black Mercedes, my stomach pitches.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, my mind going a million miles an hour as Conner parks his car in the middle of the dirt driveway.

“Tell me that’s not your fucking ex,” Noah rumbles, and I turn to face him. The minute our gazes lock, his eyes scan mine, and the look he gives me sends a chill down my spine. “Go in the house. ”

“Bridgett!” Conner yells. I glance his way, finding him already halfway across the yard.

“Not fucking happening.” Noah steps in front of me and barks out, “Get back in your car.”

“I want to talk to my wife.” Conner holds up his hands, then locks his eyes on mine. “Please, Bridgett, I just want to talk.”

“How did you know I was here?” I ask, and Noah turns to pin me with a glare.

“Your mom told me,” Conner says, and my spine stiffens. I shouldn’t be surprised she would tell him where I was, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother me.

“Bud, get back in your car and get off my property.”

“You can’t tell me what to—”

“Go home, Conner,” I cut him off. “I told you the last time you sent me a text that we have nothing to talk about. That still stands.”

“I want you to move home. I want you back, Bridgett. I’m tired of this game.”

“This isn’t a game.” I shake my head while my hands ball into fists.

“Babe, get inside,” Noah says softly while catching my gaze. I nod, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

“Babe?” Conner yells as I start to walk toward the garage. “What the fuck is that, Bridgett? You didn’t want to put out for me, but you’re putting out for this douche?” He laughs without humor, and anger mixed with embarrassment twists in my stomach. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’d spread your legs for a place to live.”

I spin around to tell him to go fuck himself but snap my mouth shut when I find Noah shoving him back toward his car, causing him to stumble. He shoves him again every time Conner rights himself.

“You come near her again, I’ll arrest you,” Noah snarls as he shoves him one last time, sending him flying onto the hood of his Mercedes.

“Fuck you, man!” Conner roars, jerking upright and kicking his foot like a kid throwing a fit, causing rocks to fly out. “And fuck that stupid bitch.” He storms to the driver’s side door and rips it open. A moment later, his engine starts, and a second after that, he backs out of the driveway, going way too fast, causing his tires to squeal as he spins around the corner.

With my arms wrapped around my middle, I watch Noah’s hands flex and his back rise and fall. Even without seeing his face, I know he’s angry, and I know that it’s because of me. “I’m sorry,” I call out, and his shoulders jerk. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

“You’re not fucking leaving, Bridgett.” He turns to face me. “But I do want you to talk to your lawyer and tell him what happened.” He prowls my way. “Are you okay?”

“No.” I shake my head, then drag in a deep breath. “I hate him.”

“I can understand why.” He stops in front of me. “Your mom told him you were staying here.”

“She must have found out from Aiden.” I swallow, trying to ignore the fact that my throat aches and my nose is starting to sting.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“I haven’t spoken to her for a couple of weeks.” My chin wobbles.

“Please don’t cry,” he says softly, and I shake my head.

“I won’t.” As soon as the lie slips past my lips, a tear slides down my cheek.

“Fuck, baby.” He drags me against him and cups the back of my head with his large palm. “Let it out.”

I want to. I want to let all the anger, sadness, and resentment that has been sitting on my chest for weeks loose, but I can’t because I don’t know what will happen if I let myself feel the full force of those emotions.

“I’m okay.” I step out of his hold and swipe away the tears still wet on my cheeks.

“Bridgett.” My name is soft, and I shake my head as I turn my back to him.

“We should finish cleaning up. The sun will be setting soon.” I walk to the black garbage bag and pick it up off the ground where I dropped it, shaking it out. It feels like forever before he moves, but when he does, he doesn’t say another word. Nor do I. Then again, what is there to say?