Bridgette sits up on the couch and looks at him. He smiles at her, but it’s a forced smile. He reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. He holds it up. “This came today,” he says.
Bridgette squeezes my hand and that’s when I realize he’s holding the test results. I’ve known Brennan long enough to know by his reaction that he’s not happy about the results. I just don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing for Bridgette.
“Just tell me,” she whispers.
Brennan looks down at his feet and then up to me. The look in his eyes is enough for Bridgette to know that she’s not any closer to figuring out who her real father is than she was a few months ago.
She inhales a deep breath, and then stands up. She mutters a “thank you” to Brennan and begins heading toward her bedroom, but he grabs her by the arm and pulls her to him. He wraps his arms around her and gives her a hug, but in true Bridgette fashion, she doesn’t allow it to last more than two seconds. She begins to cry, and I know that Bridgette doesn’t want anyone to see her cry. She ducks her head and rushes to her room.
Brennan tosses the paper on the counter and runs his hands through his hair. “This sucks, man,” he says. “I felt like she really needed it to be true, and instead, it just adds to all the shit she’s had to deal with her whole life.”
I sigh and drop my head against the couch. “You sure about the results? There’s no way they could have messed up?”
Brennan shakes his head. “She’s not his daughter. And in a way, I’m happy for her because who would want him for a dad? But I know she liked the idea of finally having a little bit of closure.”
I stand up and squeeze the back of my neck. “I don’t think closure is the only thing she was hoping for.” I point to her bedroom. “I’m gonna go check on her,” I tell him. “Thanks for coming all this way to tell her.”
Brennan nods, and I make my way into her bedroom. She’s curled up on the far side of her bed, facing opposite from the door.
I’m not good at consoling, so I’m not sure what I can say to make her feel any better. Instead, I just climb onto the bed and scoot in behind her. I wrap my arm over her and grab her hand.
We lie like this for several minutes, and I let her get all her tears out. When it doesn’t sound like she’s crying anymore, I press a kiss into her hair.
“He would have been a horrible father, Bridgette.”
She nods. “I know. I just . . .” She sucks in a rush of air. “I like it here. I feel like all of you accept me for who I am, and that’s never happened before. And now that Brennan knows I’m not his sister, what happens now? Do I just leave?”
I squeeze her tighter, hating that she even thinks that’s an option. “Over my and Brody’s dead bodies. No way am I letting you go anywhere.”
She laughs and wipes at her eyes. “You guys don’t have to be nice to me out of pity.”
I roll her onto her back and shake my head in confusion. “Pity? This isn’t pity, Bridgette. I mean, yeah, I feel bad for you. Yeah, it might have been cool if you were their sister. But it doesn’t change anything. The only thing those test results would have changed is that you’d go from not knowing who your real father is to having one of the worst fathers in the world.” I kiss her on the forehead. “I don’t care whose sister you are, I love you the same.”
Her eyes widen, and I can feel her body stiffen in my arms. I didn’t say I was falling in love this time.
I just told her I loved her. Like, actively. And yes, those three words could probably make her flip out more than any other three words in the English language, but I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back. I love her, and I’ve loved her for months now and I’m tired of being too scared of her reaction to say it.
She begins to shake her head. “Warren . . .”
“I know,” I interject. “I said it. Get over it. I love you, Bridgette.”
Her expression is void of any emotion right now. She’s absorbing it. She’s waiting to see how those words make her feel, because I’m not sure if she’s ever heard them before.
Her jaw grows tense, and she places her hands against my chest. “You’re a liar,” she snaps, attempting to roll out from under me.
Here we go again.
I pull her back to the mattress while she attempts to squirm away. “You’re exhausting, you know that?” I roll her onto her back and she begins to nod, frantically.