Page 46 of Flashback for the Forward

Bridget chewed on her lower lip. “Why did you split up?”

Time to lay all my cards on the table.

“The reason on record was infidelity.” At the horrified expression on her face, I quickly corrected, “On her end.”

Because she was intuitive as hell, my girl picked up on my careful word choice. “And off the record?”

“She wasn’t you.”

Bridget’s lips parted on a gasp. “What are you saying?”

“That my marriage to Kennedy was doomed from day one. She was the bandage I slapped over the gaping bullet wound that losing you left behind. I knew it was wrong then but pushed forward anyway. I thought it was the only way—” My emotions got the better of me, making it impossible to continue.

She rose from the swing. “The only way for what?”

Hanging my head in shame, I confessed, “The only way to honor Russ’s dying wish.”

Her eyes went wide as saucers, and her mouth dropped open.

It took a minute for her to find her voice. “What are you talking about?”

“He, um, he asked me to watch out for you after he was gone. I felt like the world’s shittiest friend for how badly I’d betrayed him by sneaking around with you behind his back for all those years. The night he died—” Tears sprang to my eyes to match the ones pouring down Bridget’s face. “Reeling from missing him and missing you, I got wasted at a bar. I wanted to call you so fucking badly, to tell you I was sorry—about Russ, about breaking your heart—and that I loved you more than anything in this world.”

Full-on sobbing now, Bridget barely managed to get words out between gasping breaths. “Why—Why didn’t you?”

“Somehow, I got it into my booze-soaked brain that the best way to honor Russ’s memory was by keeping my hands off his little sister. But you’ve always been like an addiction I can’t shake, and I knew I’d come crawling back to you eventually. I met Kennedy in the bar that night, and I saw her as an opportunity to remove the temptation you posed once and for all. I stole years of her life she won’t get back, and I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most. And that’s something I’ll never forgive myself for.”

A trembling hand lifted to cover her mouth.

“I fucked up, Bridget. So badly. A decision I made altered the course of three lives, none of them for the better. I’ll have to live with the guilt of what I’ve done to you, to myself, to Kennedy, until my dying day.”

I’d racked up a trifecta of trophies to line my imaginary shelf.

World’s Worst Friend.

World’s Worst Husband.

World’s Worst Protector.

An uncomfortable silence descended, stretching on for what felt like hours.

Until, finally, Bridget’s raspy voice said, “I’m going to bed.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. Those four words were enough to snuff out the spark of hope inside my chest that maybe we could find our way back together. It had been foolish to think there wouldn’t be consequences for the colossal mistake I’d made all those years ago.

Stepping aside, I muttered a resigned “Night” as she slipped inside the house.

When she closed the glass door behind her, it felt symbolic, like there would forever be a barrier between us—one where I could see her but would never be allowed to touch her.

And there was no one else to blame for that but me.

“Damn, big brother, you look like shit.”

“Mmm.” I didn’t bother looking up as I laced my skates.

“Trouble in paradise already?” Crew joked, but it hit a little too close to home, and the motion of my fingers paused just enough that he picked up on it. “Uh-oh, whaddya do?”

My chest expanded on a deep inhale before I admitted, “Bridget found out about Kennedy.”