Bridgette grabbed her hand in a tight grip. “I know where it got me. It brought you into my life.” She rubbed her cheek on Deborah’s palm.
Tears built up in her eyes from her sudden surge of love for Bridgette. She sobbed as she leaned down and gave Bridgette what was to be a gentle kiss. Bridgette sighed and pulled her down lower, her lips sucking and tongue swiping in deep strokes on her lips until Deborah opened her mouth and allowed her inside.
She swallowed Bridgette’s passionate sounds with her kisses, her fingers brushing gently on Bridgette’s face and neck, moving to cup her breasts. She wanted to press her on the bed and keep kissing her until they both couldn’t breathe.
When she dropped one knee on the bed and Bridgette tugged her down, a muscle in her side cramped and she gasped, breaking off the kiss. She backed away, staring at a red-faced, out-of-breath Bridgette.
“Stay with me.” Bridgette held out her hand. She wiped her bottom lip that had split.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her bag and walked toward the door. Bridgette called out her name again, and she stopped with her hand on the doorknob.
“I’ll call you when I’m back in Nevada so you know I’m safe. Then…I’ll see what happens.”
“Deborah! Don’t walk away from me. We’re not done yet.”
She opened the door and quickly looked at Bridgette, who reached across the bed with both her arms. Tears were falling down her cheeks. Deborah wiped away her own.
“What if I told you I loved you? Would that change things?” Bridgette asked.
She covered her mouth and shook her head. “Gen told me she loved me all the time. Those words mean nothing to me.” She stepped in the hallway.
“I’m not her!” Bridgette shouted.
Deep, wracking sobs flowed through her body as she rushed down the hall. When she turned the corner, Bridgette’s parents and Bryan were talking with a doctor. Not wanting a confrontation, she went the other way. Bryan glanced at her. She stopped and shook her head, backing away. He started to move toward her, but she ran, found the staircase and flew down all four flights.
She reached the main level and went out to bright sunlight that burned her eyes. A few people she passed gave her strange looks, but she ignored them. She walked as fast as she could even with the ache in her side, not wanting to be caught by Bryan, who, the moment he saw how upset Bridgette was would certainly place the blame on her.
Only when she found a taxi and was driven to her house to start packing to catch a flight back to the life she’d left behind did the pain burning in her abused muscles subside.
The ache in her heart continued and her tears never let up, even after she arrived at her old home, where she started to pick up the broken pieces of her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The windshield wipers removed the damp yellow and brown leaves from her window as Bridgette drove home from the vet. She glanced at her dog, who lay flat on the backseat with her head on her paws. Rotquel let out a sharp whimper then a soft bark with bleak eyes.
“I know, baby. I feel the same way,” she said over her shoulder at Rotquel, who snorted and wagged her tail in response.
The autumn had been a wet one. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen blue skies. Probably the day when she woke up in the hospital and Deborah had been there.
The burning in her chest flared again. Almost three months later and she couldn’t get past her depression and her loss of Deborah, who’d only called her once to tell her she’d arrived back home safe and was well.
Nevada wasn’t her home. Her home was in Woodberry Creek and with Bridgette.
Far too many times she’d wanted to call Deborah and beg her to return, to make a new home with her where she’d never be mistreated again.
But she gave Deborah the space she needed, to come to terms about herself and her losses.
Rotquel pressed her nose to the window, barking loudly as she drove in her driveway. A shiver went up her spine as she turned off her car.
Deborah stood on her porch.
“Oh boy.” She inhaled to steady her nerves.
She calmly got out of her car and opened the back door for Rotquel. Even before she could put a leash on her, Rotquel shot up the steps to Deborah.
She slid her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, soaking in Deborah’s happy smile as she knelt before Rotquel and hugged her. She wore a long brown trench coat and dark-blue jeans with black boots. Her hair now brushed her ears and was lighter, with blonde and auburn highlights. She wanted to pull her fingers through the multicolored strands and hide her face in the crook of Deborah’s neck, breathing in her scent, not allowing her to walk away again.
Becoming drenched from the rain, she locked up her car and climbed her front steps, rain falling down her face and making her normally unruly hair a frizzy mess.
“You look well,” she said as Deborah rose to her full height. Rotquel pranced in circles around her.
Deborah’s smile grew. She looked relaxed and happy, as if the constant weight she carried on her shoulders had disappeared.
“I am. You look great also,” she replied.
She snorted. “I barely had time to brush my hair this morning. I woke up late for Rotquel’s vet appointment. Plus, the rain always does a number on my hair. Today I feel like a cotton ball.”
Deborah’s shoulders jiggled from her silent laughter, and she went still when Deborah tugged on one of her curls. “You look good, even with fuzzy hair.”
She stepped around Deborah and unlocked her door. “Why don’t you come in? I can brew us coffee and give you a slice of the apple pie I baked last night.”
Rotquel rushed in the house and shook her body hard. Water fell to the floor, and Bridgette rolled her eyes as she entered the kitchen. When she checked behind her, Deborah had shut the door and scanned the room.
“It just feels great to be back, although the weather was a shock, especially coming from the dry, sunny heat.” Deborah took off her coat.
She held the canister of coffee she removed from the freezer as she stared from Deborah’s face to her chest that was enclosed in a purple polo shirt. She hid her reaction at how Deborah’s nipples poked the shirt.
“You’re staring,” Deborah said softly.
“You need to invest in a new bra,” she volleyed back pertly and put the coffee on.
“I really do need more padded bras to hide my embarrassing condition.” Deborah sighed. “It’s so great to see you again, Ridge.”
She pressed her palms on the counter. “And whose fault is it that you haven’t seen me in months?” She twisted around, facing Deborah who patted Rotquel’s head. “Why did you only call me once? Just to say ‘hey, no need to worry about me now because I’m back where I belong?”
“Bridgette.” Deborah walked to her. Even when Deborah took her hands, she didn’t acknowledge her. Not until her chin was lifted and Deborah’s mouth came down upon hers.