Page 85 of Nanny for the Firefighter

She’s completely shied away from the news crew. It’s like they have the plague or something.

If the woman could become one with the wall, I think she would.

Weird. Why’s Bridget so against being in front of the camera? I know it’s not your typical weeknight thing, but?—

Then it hits me.

Bridget is shielding her face, making sure she’s not in the line of the shots. It’s like she’s worried about being recognized.

My gut tightens, and I start answering the questions the reporters are asking without really thinking about them.

Something is definitely up with Bridget, and I have to assume it has something to do with Jai. She’s expressed how much of a tool the guy was—if still being vague about some of the details—and if she’s worried about him seeing her on the news…

What’s that all about?

Nervousness clings to me as I finish answering the reporters' questions. I think I give them what they want because they seem happy enough to leave me be now.

After a minute, Bridget comes back over, and I pull her in close again.

“Are you okay?”

She looks up at me from staring down at the hospital bed, shaking herself.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. I just…umm, I don’t like being on camera.”

There’s a flicker behind her eyes, something I wouldn’t have noticed before. But I know she’s holding something back.

I want Bridget to trust me with whatever she’s holding onto, but I also remember that night out by the pool.

The extent of Jai’s manipulation and cruelty was way more than I knew, and I can only imagine how much more pain there is locked up inside Bridget.

I squeeze her hand, offering a small smile. “Okay. Well, I’m here. If you want to talk.”

Bridget returns the smile, her eyes going glossy, and she leans in to kiss me on the cheek.

“Thank you, Mason.” Her stare holds mine. “Really.”

There’s a companionable silence that fills the air around us, and I lay my head back as Bridget stuffs herself onto the side of the bed.

We both look down at Mia, who is still fast asleep under my other arm, and it feels so damn good to have them both right here with me.

“Mr. Hayes.”

I look over, and Dr. Stewart is walking over with a clipboard in her hands.

“Hey, doc. How am I doing?”

She smiles politely, perching on the foot of the bed. “Good. I think we can discharge you as long as you have help getting home and someone to keep an eye on you for the night.”

“I’d be happy to help,” Bridget offers.

“Great.” Dr. Stewart looks to Bridget, her expression going more serious. “There are a few things that you’ll want to look out for, and you should call if anything seems off with his behavior or if he starts complaining about pain that isn’t responding to the medications.”

“All right. I can do that.”

I watch the two of them talk about what Bridget needs to do, the doctor providing several printed-out sheets of paper with important information.

But all I really care about currently is that I get to go home. I want to be in my own bed. I want to know that Mia is safely tucked in and Bridget is right there beside me.

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