so angry.
Sydney. My baby.
Bridget had so many emotions rolling through her, she didn’t know what to do.
Butch stood at the opening to the living room. Not aggressive in his stance, just alert in the way dogs were when they knew everything wasn’t all right.
She patted his head as she passed. Still unable to speak, even to reassure him. It wouldn’t be true.
She wasn’t okay.
Bridget pushed away every thought as it tried to enter her mind. Taking it captive and dismissing it until she was ready to process. It had taken a long time to master the skill of keeping her mind free of errant thoughts, but she used it now when everything in her wanted to fall apart. To rage. Scream. Ugly cry. Scream some more. Lay in the fetal position—which just made her have to force away thoughts about babies.
Sasha.
She’d forced Sasha out of the townhouse, but she should have killed her friend instead. It was the only reason she’d kicked her out. Bridget had been mad enough she could’ve done it.
Bridget stumbled across the living room to try and catch a glimpse of Aiden before he moved out of sight. Into his house. Her house. That little girl. She was Sydney. A six-year-old girl he called, “Babe.” One who made him smile like that? Bridget would have loved her already, just for that, even if the child wasn’t hers. But she was.
Her child.
Her baby.
Nearly seven years, stolen from her…so she could have this? Blood. Pain. Fear. The tools to be the person she should’ve been. A life outside Last Chance, not stuck here where the threat was real.
But the fire chief had died.
That threat was over.
Now there was a new one, and she couldn’t afford to let down her guard. Not when even a second of distraction meant Clarke, or Capeira, showed up and took her. Or took her out.
Aiden had his phone to his ear as he strode to the garage door of his townhouse, across the way, confirming her suspicions that he was the man she’d seen that one day with the little girl. Living their normal lives.
Until she drove back into town and tore it all apart. Or flipped it upside down. Which was the better of the two scenarios. Either way meant irrevocable change, and there would be no going back.
He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the window she was standing at, still on his phone. Bridget realized he could see her. He even lifted his hand to wave.
The garage door rolled up.
Butch padded over and sat, leaning against her leg. She touched the top of his head for support while the lump grew in her throat and bands that felt like steel tightened around her chest until she could barely breathe.
A little girl in leggings and a T-shirt bounded out, barefoot. Red hair flew behind her in a mass of curls that was probably a nightmare to tame.
The first sob emerged from her throat.
Butch whined, and she watched Aiden lift the girl into his arms. He held her up, and they spoke with their faces close. She loved him. Aiden was her family—and she was safe with him.
In a way she would never be with Bridget.
The first tears fell then. Even though she was overjoyed and so grateful Aiden had given her this gift, she turned and sagged onto the floor beside Butch. Bridget grasped handfuls of his fur while great sobs wracked her body. Until she could barely breathe and bile rose in her throat.
Bridget didn’t care.
She had missed that little wonder’s whole life so far. Nothing would get that back. Time had been stolen from them, and it would continue to be—until the threat was gone.
If it was ever gone.
Minutes later, she vaguely came aware of a knock at the door. Bridget didn’t move. She had no strength. She felt as though someone had shattered her, leaving her destroyed on the floor of this living room. No one. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do but just get on with life.
And how could she, when there was a little girl across the alley with her hair. That leggy build she’d hated so much when she’d shot up in seventh grade, suddenly taller than all the boys.
“Bridge.” Millie practically flew across the room.
Butch lifted his head and growled at the intruder.
Bridget didn’t have the strength to even tell him, “No.” She couldn’t lift her head when Millie settled beside her. She could only lay there with her cheek pressed to the floor.
Someone