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“I don’t know what I’ll do next,” he said. “I was hoping you’d help me figure that out.”
“Me?”
He twisted his swing to look at her. “You.”
She looked down at her feet. “Nolan…”
He walked over to her and stood in front of her swing, putting his hands on the chains. “I still love you, Bridge. I don’t care whether you — ”
“I love you too.”
He looked down at her, wondering if he’d imagined her saying the words. “You do?”
She nodded. “I’ve always loved you, you idiot.”
“Then why did you leave me?”
“I had some things to figure out,” she said. “And Nolan, I still have things to figure out.”
“What things?”
“Not yet. Not tonight. Just… can’t this be enough for right now?” She stood and put her arms around him, leaning her head on his chest. “Can’t we just love each other and let the future take care of itself?”
He put his arms around her. “We can, Bridge. Of course we can.”
But as he held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, he couldn’t help thinking that wasn’t how life worked. The future didn’t always take care of itself.
Sometimes you had to fight for what you wanted.
Sometimes you had to bleed for it.
23
Bridget stared out the tiny window near her cubicle at BRIC, thinking about her conversation with Nolan at the park the night before. She still wasn’t sure telling him how she felt had been the right thing to do, that it wouldn’t cause him more pain when he learned about the money she’d taken from his mother. The time they’d spent together over the past few weeks should have made her less conflicted about the issue. She knew Nolan loved her, knew he understood how much Owen meant to her, but she’d also seen the pain in his eyes — four years of pain that had been caused by her. It would be naive to think that that would just go away, that Nolan would just forgive and forget the decision she’d made that had caused him so much suffering. She had no doubt he’d say he forgave her, but she was less sure than ever that he would actually be able to forget.
She looked at the streets beyond the window, wondering whether or not Seamus had aborted the robbery at Harbor Trust. As of the night before, it was still on, and she’d passed another sleepless night, worrying about Will and praying Seamus would call the whole thing off. In a perfect world he would run, but at this point she would settle for a cancellation of the bank robbery and the knowledge that Will was safe.
Nolan had told her that the people he was working with to overthrow Seamus would make an anonymous tip to BPD if Seamus hadn’t called off the job by this morning. If that happened, BPD would set up a sting at Harbor Trust. They would be waiting for Will and the other men Seamus sent to do his dirty work, and while Nolan promised Will wouldn’t be charged if he was picked up, she knew that assumed he made it out alive.
She’d wanted to call or text Nolan, or even Will, that morning for an update, but that would have been dangerous given Seamus’s outburst the day before and what they now knew about his understanding of technology. She didn’t believe he had the knowledge to hack their phones himself, but she was no longer certain he wasn’t wily enough to hire someone else to do it.
She stood, grabbed her coffee cup, and walked to the tiny break room for another cup of coffee. She should have made herbal tea instead but she was torn between exhaustion and nervous energy that made her want to crawl out of her skin.
She poured coffee into her cup and walked back to her desk, returning her eyes to the window.
“Hey.” She looked up to find Sheridan standing next to her cubicle. “You should go home.”
“What? Why?” Bridget asked.
Sheridan smiled. “You look like shit, and I say that with love. Take your work with you if it’ll make you feel better, but get out of here. We all need a day now and then. You’re not doing any good to anybody, especially yourself, by being here today.”
Bridget checked her instinct to object. Blowing off work wasn’t her style. She was a plodder, a buckle-down and pull-up-your-bootstraps worker. But the thought of spending another six hours under the fluorescent lights at BRIC, her mind turning circles over everything that might be happening with Will, made her want to sleep for a thousand years.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be here today.” She rose to her feet and gave Sheridan a quick hug. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Sheridan said. “Call me if you need anything.”
Bridget loved Sheridan for her unconditional support. She was a great boss, but she was a friend too, the kind who didn’t ask too many questions and didn’t take it personally if Bridget didn’t spill her guts, unlike Rachel who would dig and dig until Bridget felt like one big open wound.
