Page 48 of Body Check
“I didn’t—” I begin, but Bran’s already halfway out the door.
“I need to go,” he says, his eyes finally meeting mine just before he walks out of the house.
I’m staring at the door as though I can will him back inside and beg him to listen. But I can’t. No matter how much I need to talk, Bran needs and deserves the time and space he asked for.
The squeak of sneakers on the tile floor has me looking up to see Blue standing in the entryway, looking like he just got back from the gym. “You ok?” he asks, even though the answer is obvious. I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes and my face is streaked with dried tears. There’s drama at the hockey house, and I’m in the middle of it. No, I’m the cause of it. I’m not the kind of person who likes to be the center of attention, so no, I am definitely not okay. But instead of rambling incoherently, I do my best to smile and nod. “I’m fine.”
Blue laughs. “You’re a terrible liar, Bridgette.”
He’s not wrong, but I just take a breath before taking a sip of my tepid coffee. “Do you mind if I stay here a little longer? Dutton went to see his folks, but I’m actually waiting for Liza. She should be back around noon. We’re working on a project for our psych class. Actually, maybe I should go home and change. I?—”
“Do you like French toast?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Doesn’t really matter. I like it enough for both of us. Come with me. We can head to the diner and get some breakfast. They serve it all day.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” I protest. “Liza won’t be too much longer and?—”
“And you want to spend the next hour and a half sitting here and watching as the rest of my housemates walk down the steps? Sounds thrilling. Or are you going to stare at the door and hope your brother comes back? He will, but it might take him a minute to get his head out of his ass. So come on, let’s fuel up. If you’re going to spend the afternoon with Liza, you probably needto carb-load so you can fend off her evil spirits,” he says with a visible shudder.
The walk to the diner is quick, but that might have something to do with the cooler temperatures. November is here, and my first semester at Bainbridge will be over before too long. We find a booth near the back that’s not too far from where I was sitting the night I first spotted Dutton here last spring. I had no clue who he was, of course. I only cataloged him in my mind as Hot Diner Guy. I’m not going to admit that to Blue, though, because it would make me sound crazy.
Our server stops by with coffee, and Blue rattles off an order big enough to feed three people. When she turns toward me, I ask for an omelet. As soon as she’s out of earshot, she looks at me quizzically. “You didn’t order the French toast? It’s the best thing on the menu. Possibly the best thing in the world. Fine, I’ll share mine, and I want you to know that I don’t do that for just anyone. I like you, Bridgette. You’re good for him.”
His words surprise me, even though I’ve heard them before.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, smiling. “Unlike my best friend, I get along with just about everyone, except for Liza, but that’s complicated.”
It seems to me like there are a lot of complicated relationships at the hockey house, but I keep that thought to myself. “I know you do, and I’m glad you think I’m good for Dutton, but I’d understand if you changed your mind after last night. After the last few weeks, really. It was completely unfair of me to ask Dutton to hide our relationship. He was right. We should have been honest in the beginning, but I know that wouldn’t have gone well, either. I just know I made a bad situation worse, and I feel awful about it.”
Blue leans back against the booth and looks at me. “Wow. Are you always this hard on yourself?”
“Uh, when it’s warranted, yes. I appreciate that you’re being so nice, and I am glad you got me out of the house, or I’d still be sitting there feeling miserable, but there’s no escaping the reality of the situation. There’s tension in the hockey house, and I’m the reason,” I begin.
Blue rolls his eyes. “You’re not the only reason. This shit between the two of them has been in the works since freshman year. We were on rival teams. Your brother’s easy to rattle, and my best friend is a world-class shit-stirrer. You did not create this problem.”
I let his words sink in as our server sets down several platters of food. Blue digs in, and I munch on a piece of bacon because I’m suddenly starving. “Okay, I see your point, but I definitely made things worse by insisting that Dutton and I hide our relationship.”
Blue nods, chewing as he considers my statement. “So why’d you do it, then? Why sneak around? I mean, it had to be hot at first, but after a while, didn’t it get annoying?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “But there was never a good time to tell Bran, and there was always a reason not to. This isn’t an excuse, but I knew he wouldn’t take the news well, so I just kept putting it off. That was cowardly.”
“I wonder where the line is between cowardice and self-preservation,” he muses before shoving a giant bite of French toast into his mouth. “Look, family dynamics are a freaking minefield. I know that firsthand, believe me, but here’s some free advice you didn’t ask for: own your shit, make things right with your brother when he’s ready for it, but don’t let guilt weigh you down. It might seem like a good idea at the time, it might feel like you're making up for whatever damage you think you caused, but in the end, it doesn’t really do you any good. What I’m saying is, don’t let that stop you from enjoying all the goodyou’ve got going on right now. Sparky and I have been friends our whole lives, and I’ve never seen him this happy. “
“He makes me happy, too. I don’t know what things will look like in the future, but?—”
“Damn. Did you listen to a word I said?” he asks, his brow raised. “Nobody ever knows the future, Bridgette, but it’s no secret that Sparky is fucking gone for you. He has been since he saw you right here in this diner last March.”
My eyes must be as big as dinner plates, because Blue quickly corrects himself.
“I mean, right there in that coffee shop where you met a couple months ago,” he says, his attention suddenly on the little jelly packs in the plastic tray on our table.
“That really was you guys? After the game?”
Blue narrows his eyes at me. “I have no clue what you are talking about.”
“Bullshit. The two of you were in that booth,” I say, pointing across the aisle. “Dutton kept looking in my direction. I didn’t know who he was back then. And at first, I wasn’t sure if he thought I looked familiar or what, but then I got a call from Bran and I had to leave. When we met up at the coffee shop a few months ago, he looked so familiar. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was him, but I guess it was.”
“Yep,” Blue nods. “He told me to find a ride back to the hotel because he was planning to walk up to your table to meet you. I was giving him shit because he smiles like a rabid dog. He was getting ready to approach you when you dashed out of here. I don’t know if it’s fate or what, but you two make each other happy, so hang onto that.” He punctuates his wisdom with a gulp of coffee, then sets his fork on one of the empty plates. “Do you want dessert?” he asks.
Ten minutes later, we’re at the hockey house with a box of donuts. Blue sets it on the counter, gives me a smile, and then wards Liza off by making a cross with his index fingers.
