Page 1 of Extended Bridge

Chapter One

The Gossip’s headline mocks my every move—Black Widow Prepares to Strike Again

There’s the awful term again. Black Widow. When the press first called me that, I was too shocked at the ugly name to do anything more than bury my head in the proverbial sand. They’ve kept at it, and now I feel like most of my time in therapy following Darren’s death was for naught. I have no control. Guilt is more crushing than ever.

All the air in my body lodges in my throat.

Without a backward glance, I toss on my shirt and sprint out of the bedroom I had commandeered. Seize my purse. Speed down the mansion’s stairs. Grab my keys from the table in the entry foyer. While I race to my SUV, I click open the front door and slide in, dumping my bag on the passenger seat and pressing the button for the car to start. My foot hits the accelerator a second later.

Secluded Rest, the rental house of Bennett Hardy, the lead singer of Untamed Coaster, finally appears in the rearview mirror. I take my first long breath since Courtney’s text arrived. And pound the steeringwheel.

I thought I’d escaped the vitriol from Darren’s family years ago, only to be plunked right back to the time when he died. I repeat the mantra from my psychotherapist: I’m not responsible for Darren getting addicted or for his death. The only things I take blame for are falling for him—and enjoying his playful pranks—and over-the-top lifestyle. So unlike my own.

I swipe the tears flowing down my cheeks. Before I get caught up in memories of the first man who changed my life, I need to regroup. Talking with the person at the center of the current shitstorm—the second such man—won’t help either.

Bennett.

At the mere thought of the sexy lead singer who I shared a shower with not even thirty minutes ago, my body freezes. Before boarding the helicopter to return to Aroostook, his manager whispered into my ear, “I like how B is with you. You two make a great couple. Don’t break his heart.”

But who’s going to protect mine?

I wave at the security guard manning the entrance to Bennett’s gated community and head out, where a gaggle of reporters lie in wait. For me. I stomp on the gas and take off at a fast clip, the majority of them hot on my tail.

If I want some space, I can’t go to a public place. My house is off-limits, as are those of my friends’ and Ma’s. The clinics come to mind. They’ll be safe. Reporters aren’t legally able to enter private areas. Given the time of day, I pray there aren’t too many patients to interrupt.

With squealing tires, I take the final turn into the private driveway leading to my first At Your Service PT location. Parking behind the building, I exhale over the steering wheel. How can this be my life again?

My phone rings and my bestie’s name appears on the screen. Trying to regulate my breathing, I say, “I’m in the parking lot.”

“Great. Come on up and we’ll talk about this.”

Court’s a good egg. We met in physical therapy school and hit itoff immediately. We worked together in a couple of clinics, and now she’s my right hand—in charge of my flagship location. I run all major decisions by her. What is she going to say about this mess?

Checking the rooftops for telephoto lenses like Bennett taught me, I scurry to the back door, and ignoring the elevator, take the stairs up. I need to expend energy. When I cross the threshold, Court stands with her arms open. I fling myself into them.

The tears I’d hoped I banished return double time. Court pats my back. “Come on, honey. Let’s go to the office.” She leads us into her corner office with windows facing the waiting room. After directing me to her couch, she closes the blinds.

A tissue waves before my eyes. “Where would you like to begin?”

I blow my nose. “I don’t know.” Tears continue to fall.

“I’m so sorry this is happening again. I thought once it blew over with Darren’s family, we’d seen the end of it.”

“It doesn’t seem like his mother or sister got the memo.” I drop a used tissue on the floor and pluck a new one.

“They want you away from UC. The least they could’ve done is wish that awful Lissa woman disappeared as well.”

At the name of Bennett’s high school ex-girlfriend, I gulp more air. “Bennett and Lissa dated in high school. She dumped him for his best friend, who was a year older and offered to take her to the senior prom. They never looked back to see the wreckage they left in their wake.”

“I wondered what the true story was there. The article made it seem like you were Camilla in Charles and Diana’s marriage.”

I scrunch up my face. “No way.Lissacame to our table during dinner and caused a scene. Frankly, Bennett didn’t talk about her too much afterwards. He really is over her, although the scars linger.” Namely, he doesn’t call anyone “friend.” Plus, he hasn’t had a girlfriend since her—but he did tell me he loves me.

“What a bitch.”

I laugh for the first time following my escape from the mansion. “She’s something, for sure. All plastic surgery and hair extensions.”

Court raises her left eyebrow. “I bet a size zero as well?”

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