Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Not here. Please.”
He searches my face and then nods once, looping his free arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get you finished up here so we can go home.”
“Who was that lady?” Birdie asks, sniffling away the last of her tears. “She scared me.”
“She’s no one to worry about,” Bridger assures her, kissing her cheek. “It’s okay, peanut.”
“She said mean things.”
I take a shaky breath as we walk into my classroom. I’m just gathering my purse and coat, turning off the lights, when the principal, Miss Shephard, pokes her head in.
“I heard what happened. Dani, if you have time this weekend, would you please email me a statement so we have it on file?”
“Of course.”
She smiles at me reassuringly. “I hear you did very well. Thank you.”
When she’s gone, I close and lock my classroom, and Bridger slings his arm around me again, kisses my temple, and I lean into his side, soaking in his warmth and strength.
“I love you so much, sweetheart.”
Some of Angela’s words roll through my mind, the way she’d intended for them to do, and I have to blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
“I know.” I swallow hard. “I love you, too. Both of you.”
I’m surprised when we get outside and Bridger leads me to my SUV.
“You picked it up for me?”
“Just came from the garage, yeah,” he says as he helps Birdie get settled in the back seat. “Brooks says it’s good to go.”
“How much do I owe you for it?”
“Nothing.”
I shake my head as I lower myself into the seat. “Bridger, I’m happy to pay for my car.”
“He didn’t charge me anything,” he clarifies as he buckles himself in and then leans over to kiss me, right on the mouth. “But even if he had, you don’t owe anything, kitten.”
I can’t argue with him right now. My mind is foggy from the craptastic day and the altercation with Angela, none of which I can talk about right now because we have little ears in the car, and she’s been traumatized enough as it is.
The drive home takes less than five minutes, and then we file out of the car, and Bridger follows us into his house, where Pickles comes running to get some attention.
“Pickles,” Birdie says, happy to see her favorite feline. “Come sit with me and I’ll tell you all about school. It was not a good day.”
Bridger’s eyebrows climb as he looks over at me, and I nod in agreement with Birdie.
“Come here.” He crooks a finger at me, and I walk right into his arms. He folds himself around me, and I cling to him. And then, to my surprise, I feel Birdie hug me from the side, and I reach down to hold her against me. “Family hug time.”
“Oh, this is really nice.”
Birdie lets go first and goes back to talking with Pickles.
“You have to call someone, Bridge,” I whisper to him. “Right now. Because I don’t know what her deal is, but she’s in a mood, and—”
“I’ll make a call as soon as I know that you’re okay,” he replies, clearly understanding who I’m referring to.
His ex-wife. The woman who’s clearly been in town for weeks and just tried to take my kid.
“I’m okay.” I square my shoulders and lift my chin, pulling away from him. I already miss his warmth and the safety of his arms, but I can go back there after we take care of some business.
I want to keep things as normal as possible for Birdie.
“Hey, pretty girl, your daddy has to make some calls, so why don’t you and I go make a snack in the kitchen?”
“Can I have some yogurt?” she asks as we walk into the other room, and Bridger walks down the hall to the bedroom to make his call.
“Of course, you can. Do you want some granola and honey in it?”
“Yes, please.”
Keeping myself busy is the best thing for me right now, because if I let myself think about what happened at the school, and what it means, or could mean, I’ll make myself nuts.
Not to mention, Angela’s mean girl antics were right on brand for her, and she sent me right back to being fifteen and completely unsure of myself. I’m shaking so badly that I have to try three times to get the lid off the yogurt.
“I got this,” Bridger says, his big hand covering mine as he takes the container from me. “Go change and take a breath, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want her out of my sight,” I whisper, unable to look up from the countertop. If I look him in the face, I’ll cry.
I’m barely holding it together here.
“I’m right here,” he reminds me. “Baby, I’m right here.”
My nod is jerky, and then I walk down the hallway and close the bedroom door, leaning on it as I swallow through the fear and anger in my throat. I manage to get my skirt and sweater off and grab my leggings and one of Bridger’s T-shirts out my drawer, but then I sit on the end of the bed, just in my underwear with the clothes in my hands, and stare blindly ahead.