Page 13 of Extended Bridge

Pierce DeLuca stands in the doorway. Darren’s best friend. Bennett nicknamed him 007 because Pierce Brosnan was playing James Bond when he was born, and they have the same coloring. For what it’s worth, I think the nickname fits.

“Hi.” I widen the door, allowing him to enter the room.

“Hello, Jenna.” Controlled anger vibrates off his body, which does nothing to calm my nerves. Have I made a mistake touring withUC again? In the middle of the room, which seems to be smaller all of a sudden, he turns and waits for me to close the door. His fingers rest on the studded belt he’s wearing—my stomach flips when I recognize it as Darren’s favorite. “I understand you’re touring with us as Bennett’s physical therapist.”

I walk toward the counter with the television, covering my racing heart rate. “I am.”

His jaw tics. Not a good sign. “I’m only going to say this once. I don’t like it. There are plenty of other therapists that don’t have your connection with the band. You should recommend someone—a school friend, close colleague, hell I don’t care,anyone—and leave now. Before things get ugly.”

Getugly?My head ticks up. “I don’t mean to make things difficult among you guys. I’m only here because I was tagged to check on Bennett’s injury when it happened and have been his physical therapist for the past two weeks.” I tighten my ponytail holder, keeping my hair bound. “It’s my professional duty to see him through his rehab.”

He turns his back to me and faces the window. “I want to believe you think you’re doing something for his good. But you’re not. We all—except Tris—were here when Darren died. You being on tour with us now reopens these wounds.”

“I don’t mean for that to happen. I only want what’s best for Bennett.”

He whirls to face me, his face a blotchy red. “What’s best for Bennett is to seek treatment from some other physical therapist. I don’t know why he can’t see that. Or why you can’t, for that matter.”

I dissect the words he’s flung at me. “I might agree,” I begin cautiously. “If I wasn’t the one to diagnose his injury when it happened. I didn’t go with him to the doctor the first visit, but I was there for the last one. He needs more time to rehab than the measly two weeks—less than, actually—I’ve been working with him. I know his routine, his exercises. I can read his tells and know when he can be pushed harder.”

“Someone else could do the same.”

He’s right. Didn’t I make the same argument to Court? Am I allowing unprofessional feelings toward Bennett cloud my judgment? I stew a moment, but the certainty I’m the right therapist for the job is inescapable. More than that, Ineedthe money to open another clinic. Bennett and I simply will not cross any more lines.

“You’re right. Someone else could read my files and pick up his therapy. But they won’t have the background I do with him, nor the time in on his rehab. While you may disagree—and I’m wary about being back with UC, believe me—I am the best therapist for him at this juncture.”

“Darren would have something to say about this.”

I take an involuntary step back, as if he’d slapped me across the face. “This has nothing to do with Darren.” When we were together, I loved him, and he loved me. He made a series of bad decisions the night he overdosed. Pierce needs to mourn his passing and move on, as my therapist urged me to do. I am quite aware how big of an ask this is.

He crosses his arms. “Or have you already decided to hook up with Bennett as a way to stay connected with UC, Miss Black Widow?”

“What? No.” I shake my head. Guilt prods that he’s half-right because we already have hooked up. However, the reason definitely wasnotbecause of Darren. If anything, the fact Bennett’s in the same band was a real turn off. I force myself to glare at the band’s bassist. I hope it appears convincing. “I’m only his therapist.”

“Keep telling yourself this, Jenna. Just know I have my eyes on you.” His blazing blue gaze latches onto me. “If he so much as gets a hangnail, your ass will be out. Feel me?”

“I’m only here to help Bennett rehab. So he can perform as your frontman like he used to do.”

His lips form a solid line. “See to it you get this job done. No other.” He breezes by me, tagging my shoulder, as he exits the room. The door remains open.

I sag against the wall. If I had any doubts about where Pierce stands, they’re all gone now. The need to convince him I’m here for Bennett’s physical therapy, and nothing else, reinforces my resolve to keep things strictly professional with the rock star.

My alarm goes off, giving me a five-minute warning. Wonderful. With Pierce’s venom swirling in my head, I close the door behind me and follow the signs to the gym. When I enter, the rest of the band—sans my recent visitor—is working on various machines. Bennett stands by a workout bench.

“Jenna!” the frontman exclaims, and limp-walks to my side. My body buzzes with excitement at seeing him again, which I tamp down when the other band members stop their exercises and encircle me.

Bennett reintroduces me to Tristan, whom he calls Tris. I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you under more normal circumstances,” I say. “You seem to fit right in with the band.”

“Thank you. I’m happy to be able to make your acquaintance formally. As you can imagine, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

What can I say to this? “I hope we can forge our own friendship, free from any preconceived notions.”

“It’s a deal.” He rubs his dark five o’clock shadow, a friendship bracelet around his wrist.

Coop and Río join us, cups of water in their hands. “I heard you’re coming on tour with us again. Couldn’t keep away, huh?” Coop grins to ease the sting of his joke, his hoop earrings even smiling.

“Call me crazy?—”

A shirtless Río interjects, “Crazy.” Everyone laughs, including me.

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