Page 28 of All Her Broken Pieces

Bridget

I feel like shit.It’s been two hours since I left the hospital, and my pain meds are starting to wear off. Why do I feel like I can do everything? I’m clearly not impervious to pain. It’s clear I may need to expand my inner circle to avoid situations like this with Ethan.

My puppy dog has followed me around all day. To the pharmacy to pick up my pain meds. To my apartment to take care of me. Around the block when I went for my mandatory daily doctor-prescribed walk. I literally felt like I was taking him for a walk like a damn puppy. He’s always nearby, and it’s unnerving.

When we first met, he told me he prefers a quiet night in. At first, I thought he was fucking with me because what young guy in his twenties doesn’t like going out to clubs and partying? But he’s spent the entire day in waiting rooms, hospital rooms, and now he’s sitting in my living room, offering me quiet support on the loveseat across from where I’m lying. I thought he’d get bored or annoyed by now and leave, but I’m beginning to think he was telling the truth.

I’ve been alone most of my life. Growing up as an only child, I didn’t have many friends to play with. My parents were decent parents. They supported me. My needs were always met, and I never went without. But I never felt like I was their priority, more like an addition to their relationship, a welcome one most of the time. But it still felt like it was them against the world. Even now they’re on a cruise together while someone who’s practically a stranger takes care of their bedridden daughter. And if he weren’t here, I probably would’ve used an app to find someone to run errands for me.

I had a few friends in school, but I preferred to keep my head down and get lost in a book. Escaping into another world was fun. Safe. I could experience the drama without it being a part of my life. And if things ever got too intense, I could put the book down and come back to it.

Friendships aren’t like that. If you walk away from someone’s drama, it’s considered rude. And in my experience, teenage girls are drama. Listening to story after story of who did what to who was exhausting. I’d had to perfect my resting listening face. If I feigned enough interest, it would appease most people. There was a formula to figuring people out and then giving them what they needed. Some wanted you to listen to their drama. Some wanted you to solve their problems. Once I figured out what each friend required, I could follow that formula and maintain that friendship.

That was until the end of tenth grade when everything went to shit. When my high school boyfriend cheated on me, I didn’t find out from him. I was standing at my locker when I overheard the gossip that he’d gotten someone pregnant. I never found out who it was. Did it matter? The one person that I’d trusted with my true friendship, my love, my virginity, had betrayed me. And to make matters worse, all my so-called friends sided with him.

“But, Bridget, they’re having a baby. What do you expect? He’s not going to leave his baby for you!”

“Don’t you think it’s kind of selfish to expect him to choose you over her? They’re having a baby together.”

Like having a baby warrants someone’s loyalty over all else. It just means you didn’t practice safe sex. I couldn’t imagine ever choosing anyone else’s happiness at the sacrifice of my own. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else more than myself.

All those years I spent making, maintaining, and perfecting those friendships. Gone in the blink of an eye. Gone in the few minutes it takes to take a pregnancy test. And how dare I expect him to choose me? How dare I expect any of those friends to choose me? I listened to all their drama, and the one time I got caught up in the drama that wasn’t even my own making, those friends immediately abandoned me.

Because that’s what people do—they choose other people over you. My parents did. My friends did. My first boyfriend did. I didn’t understand people or friendships like I’d thought. Clearly, there were unknown variables that could affect the outcome. Like drama. And babies.

Becka is the only real friendship I’ve ever maintained. She was an anomaly I couldn’t figure out, and eventually I stopped trying. I could ignore her for days, but she never seemed mad at me about it. Maybe our friendship worked because I hadn’t treated it like I did in my youth. I didn’t try to figure out the formula to her happiness or the formula to our friendship. I simply let it be. And she accepted me for who I was. She’s the only person on this planet who loves me for me.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ethan asks from across the couch. Like hell am I sharing any of my thoughts with him.

Wincing, I try to sit up. “Christ, I feel like shit.”

Ethan stands and crosses to the kitchen. I hear him moving around, opening cupboards, filling a glass with water. He returns with my Percocet and a glass of ice water. “Here, take this. I know you said you didn’t want to take any narcotics, but this will help. You can take half the dose if you like, or I can help you wean off them.”

“I won’t need your help after today.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“It is. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re in pain. I can see it in your face and in the stiffness in your body.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I get the feeling that you’re not used to having someone take care of you. But I want to help you.”

“And what do you get out of this?”

A pained look crosses his face as his brows pinch. “I’m not doing this because I want something out of it. I’m doing it because I genuinely like you and want to spend time with you.”

Well, fuck. That’s… nice. But there’s still a motive here. In my experience, people don’t do things out of the kindness of their hearts without expecting something in return. I’ve seen it in business time and time again. It’s why I’m so successful. I figure out what people want and leverage it to get what I want.

“We aren’t sleeping together again.”

“Not for the next four to six weeks,” he agrees easily. “I’m going to go run over to my place and pack an overnight bag. I’ll stay on your couch, if that’s okay. In case you need anything during the night. And I can grab you anything you need while I’m out. You’re almost out of ice, and it doesn’t look like your ice maker is working. And I know you like your water cold.”

Dumbfounded, I stare at him. How did he know that? We’ve shared one meal together. “It’s been low on the priority list.”

“I can look at it. Tell me, what kind of ice do you like? Big chunks? Little pellets?”

---