The Year We Hid Away (27 page)

Oh
.

“Shan…” he cut off the word. “Scarlet, I had no idea. And I just feel sick about this. I need to ask you something very important.”

“Okay.”

Brian looked up at Bridger and hesitated. “I’m sorry, man. But can she and I talk alone for a minute?”

Concern crossed Bridger’s face. “If that’s what Scarlet wants.”

I reached across the table to put my hand on Brian’s sleeve. “No. Whatever you have to say, he can hear.” I was sick of hiding things from Bridger.

“Sweetie, I need to ask you a really personal question.”

“
No
,” I said. Brian opened his mouth to argue, but I stopped him. “I meant, no, my father never hurt me.”

Brian’s eyes welled up. “Sweetie, it’s really important that you tell me the truth.” His eyes flicked to Bridger again. “If he did hurt you, it would be really hard to talk about.”

“I
would
tell you the truth. I
am
telling you the truth. Just like I told Bridger when he asked me the same thing. I’m not lying about this.”

He still looked wary. “Sometimes people make themselves forget.”

I shook my head. “Look, he wasn’t a good dad. But… nothing like that ever happened. He yelled, Brian. About hockey, usually. But that’s the worst thing I ever saw him do.”

The tears spilled down Brian’s face. “God, Scarlet. I hope that’s so. Because that right there is
my
worst nightmare.”

I felt Bridger squeeze my hand, and I squeezed back.

Brian blew out a long, shuddering breath. “I would never forgive myself…” he let the sentence die.

Bridger was still squeezing my hand. Actually, he squeezed it so hard it was beginning to hurt. “Ouch,” I said gently. Bridger released my hand immediately. But he was staring hard at Brian.

“What’s wrong, Bridge?” I asked.

My boyfriend chewed on his lip. “Dude, I have a question.”

Brian looked up, wiping his eyes with his hands. “What?”

“Are you and J.P. blood relatives?”

At that, Brian grew very still. He didn’t answer Bridger. His gaze fell to the tabletop again.

Bridger looked from Brian to me and back again. “Come on, it’s a simple yes or no question. You and J.P. were both adopted. From the same parents, or not?”

“Why?” I asked, hating the sudden tension at the table. I didn’t understand it.

Brian shook his head at Bridger.

“Well, shit,” Bridger said. “Seriously? Are you going to…?”

“Hey, back off for a second.”

“Why would I?” Bridger challenged.

“Back off
what?
” I cried.

“Take a good look at Brian, Scarlet. Your adopted
uncle
…”

Brian smacked a fist onto the table. “Give me a fucking minute, hothead.” His face was red. “I’ll get there, okay?”

“You are both scaring me,” I said quietly.

Bridger forced himself to lean back against the wooden booth. Then he took both of my hands in his. “I’m sorry, Scarlet. Don’t be scared.”

But I was. Because as I studied Brian, and I had a sick feeling that I knew what he was about to say.

“Your mother,” Brian said slowly, each word painful. “She and J.P. made me sign a document as thick as the phone book that I would never tell you this. And when I do, they will try to destroy me. I agreed to keep it a secret, because I was a stupid kid, and I thought it was the right thing to do.”

The edges of my vision got a little fuzzy, because I feared hearing the next part.

Brian flexed his hands against the scarred wooden tabletop and dropped his voice. “I got your mother pregnant when we were nineteen.”

Somehow, I managed not to gasp out loud.

“…And by the time she found out about it, I was in jail.” He stared at me with wet eyes. “Sweetie…”

“So, J.P. isn’t… He’s not…?”

“J.P. is not your father. I am.”

My throat constricted so suddenly that I had trouble asking the next question. “I’m not even
related
to him?” Never before today had it ever occurred to me that my father was not really my father. At the edges of my shock, I could feel an oncoming wave of relief. I was having the reverse of a Star Wars moment. Darth Vader had no claim on me.

Brian shook his head. “That’s the only silver lining here.”

But the emotions were rolling over me, and it seemed they’d never stop. “But… you
left
me with him?”

“I know, honey. But your mother…” he closed his eyes, looking utterly exhausted. “I’m not excusing it. But it was her idea. She wanted his money, and the lifestyle. And he wanted… I never quite knew what he wanted from this deal. He wanted a family. He said he couldn’t have children. And maybe it’s even true. Now I think he just wanted to be a part of a normal-looking family. He was hiding behind you and your mother. I didn’t ask myself why he wanted this weird bargain. But for years, I thought they knew best. You were doing so well.”

“How do
you
know? You weren’t even
there
!”

“I tried,” he whispered. “But they didn’t trust me. One hockey game a year. That’s what they gave me.” Tears ran down his face. “I didn’t know he was going to
hurt kids
.”

“I could fucking kill you right now,” Bridger said, his voice like gravel.

“
I
could fucking kill me right now,” Brian spat. “This year has been… I couldn’t find her. I even came to campus here and walked around, looking for you, Sweetie. There was no Shannon Ellison in the directory.” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m so sorry. I went to your house last year, they threw me out. Their thugs threw me out. Their legal team came down on me hard. That asshole Azzan had me tailed on and off, just to be intimidating.”

“Okay,” I breathed. I could feel the stress coming off Brian in waves. I reached across the table and grabbed both his hands. “Okay. It’s okay. Some day the trial will be over.” I was telling myself just as much him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I was so young, and they convinced me that a rich athlete was a better deal for you than a broke felon.” His voice broke. “They told me I was a shit person, and I believed them.”

Reeling, I wished the world would slow down for a minute so I could catch up. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. When I came here to see you on Friday, I didn’t know if I was going to tell you this or not. Then I thought I’d wait until Bridger’s case was settled, and talk to you about the trial. But we haven’t had even a moment’s peace.”

That was certainly true.

“…But I haven’t
ever
stopped thinking about you. Not one single day. Your mother told me that if I made myself scarce, they would give you everything. She told this to me during prison visiting hours, honey. I sat there in my shitty orange uniform and believed her.”

It still wouldn’t quite sink in. Except that I could practically hear my mother’s voice in that story. She’d rather eat nails than have a baby out of wedlock with a criminal. My whole life, she’d made decisions based upon appearances. And she’d paid the price.

God
, how depressing.

“What now?” I asked.

Brian opened his hands. “No matter what those assholes in New Hampshire try to do to me, my door is open to you. I’m finished being afraid of them.”

“I need to think,” I said, rubbing my temples with two hands. My eyes felt sandy with exhaustion. It had been the most emotional day of my life, and I didn’t even know what to say to him. “I think we should see each other again over my Christmas break,” I suggested.

His face softened. “Can we? I just hate dropping this bomb on you and then driving away. But I have to be in Massachusetts tomorrow morning. An ex-con can’t ever blow off his job. There might not be another one.”

I nodded. “I know you took time off from work to help Bridger.”

“I wanted to.” His voice was rough again. “I’m going to head home now, then. Be safe, Sweetie.” He stood up. So I did too. He stepped close to me, hugging me again just as hard as when I’d seen him in the coffee shop a few days ago. That fierce hug made even more sense now than it had then. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I truly am.”

“I know it,” I said.

Bridger held out a hand. “Thank you for everything. And I’m sorry I got a little crazy there a minute ago.”

Brian shook my boyfriend’s hand. “Bridger, you are a man who protects the people he loves. There’s nothing wrong with that. Goodnight to you both. We’ll talk soon.”

After Brian left, Bridger and I sat there a minute. “
Jesus
. Are you okay?” he asked me.

“I will be.” My reality had been transformed in the past few hours. It was all going to take some time to understand. But when I stood up from that booth, Bridger stood up, too. And he took my hand. Together we walked out of Capri’s, and through the streets of our college town. As we waited for a traffic light, the warm heel of his hand rested on my lower back, and I felt calm.

When I’d driven away from my childhood home on Labor Day, I’d been so alone. But I wasn’t anymore. In silence, we walked back to Beaumont. I followed Bridger up to his room, and he kissed me on the forehead at the top of the stairs.

“Sleep will help,” Bridger said, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

The moment he said it, I yawned on command.

“I’m going to tuck you into my bed,” he said. “And we’re going to watch a pointless movie on my computer.”

“God, don’t pick a drama,” I teased. “We’ve had enough of that.”

He grinned. “We are going strictly comedy for awhile. You can even choose a chick flick. As long as the couple gets naked before the credits roll, I’ll hang with it.”

We went inside his room, and I closed the door. “If you want naked people, we don’t need the movie,” I pointed out.

Bridger turned to look at me, a smile playing on his lips. “You are a smart girl, aren’t you?” He removed his sport coat, hanging it on the back of the desk chair. And then he crossed the room to me, pushing the hair back off my shoulders. He pressed his lips to my cheekbone. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He dropped tiny kisses along the side of my face. “I mean, it’s not every day that you find out that you’re your own cousin.”

I giggled into his neck. “I will be okay,” I told him, reaching up to loosen the knot in his tie. “As soon as I get your hands on me.” He yanked the tie off, and then I went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt.

We’d been alone in his room for four sad nights. We held each other, but nothing more. Now that Lucy would soon be back, I could think of no better way to use up the last few hours of privacy. I needed to stop thinking about the traumatic revelations of the day. And I wanted his skin against mine, his touch taking me out of my own head.

The gleam in Bridger’s eye as I undressed him was a thing of beauty. It made me feel powerful. He leaned in to kiss me as I pushed the shirt off his shoulders. “Patience!” I demanded, ducking out of the way. I did it just because I could. Stepping back, I eased my own shirt over my head, teasing him. And when I could see him again, that interested gleam in his eyes had ignited into full-blown desire.

He was watching me. So I skimmed my hands down my belly and drew the zipper of my jeans down slowly. “You’re killing me right now,” he said.

“Good.” I began to ease the fabric down off my hips. But before I got very far, Bridger was there, sinking to his knees in front of me, kissing the deep V of skin I’d revealed below my belly button.
Holy hell
, that felt good. Then he yanked down my jeans and began nuzzling me, his lips ghosting over my silk panties.

A shocked whimper escaped me. I could feel the heat of his breath on all my most sensitive places. Then he opened his mouth, and the friction of warm, wet satin against my body was almost too much. I felt my knees begin to buckle.

Strong hands clamped around my hips, and I heard a muffled chuckle. “Lie down, baby.” He set me onto the bed and then with one big tug removed my jeans and socks. “You said you wanted my hands on you,” he said. “How about my mouth?” Without waiting for an answer, he began dropping wet, open-mouthed kisses down my belly and onto my hip. I trembled with anticipation.

This wasn’t something I’d ever done before, and I wondered if maybe I’d be too self-conscious to enjoy it. But Bridger’s gentle kisses circled and teased. And when he finally landed at his intended destination, it seemed that the day’s revelations weren’t over yet. My body lit up like the Christmas tree in the center of Fresh Court, and I pushed all the day’s worries right out of my conscious mind.

An hour later, we lay collapsed together in a sweaty heap. I traced my fingers along Bridger’s ribs, feeling limp and blissed-out. I could feel his heart thumping under my ear. From next door, I could hear the muffled sounds of Andy’s TV. “I hope that fire door is thick.”

Bridger chuckled. “Will you freak out if I tell you that you’re kind of a screamer?”