Page 39 of Extended Bridge

“Maybe you need to tell the reporters this. And stop kissing your patient.”

Her words hit their mark. “I wasn’t kissing-kissing him, Ma.” My lips were only covering his and my body stuck to his like glue. I pull up one of the photos. Hell, we shouldn’t have done this in public.

Or in private.

“I’ll speak with Luke, UC’s manager. He’ll get the PR team on it, to make this disappear.” He better be able to. Of course, if I were able to keep my hands off Bennett, none of this would’ve happened. “Other than having your younger daughter’s face plastered over the internet, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” I can almost see her cheeks puff. She’s always so positive, which makes this criticism all the more difficult to swallow. “Not much to complain about. Your sister won another award for anesthesiology, which is also being covered in today’s newspapers.”

“That’s great. Pass along my congratulations to Kara.”

“Will do. Oh, and Michelle is telling everyone in town that Bennett came on to her, saying you’re getting her sloppy seconds.Again.” Over the phone, I hear something rip. She probably opened sweetener for her morning tea.

I roll my eyes. “Joy.” I shove the blankets down my thighs. “Untrue on every level.” Placing my feet on the floor, I stand. “Well, I should get ready to start the day. We’re driving down to Philly and UC’s going to visit with Darren’s family.”

“Oh,” she rasps. “Are you joining them?”

I need to shut down the hopeful tone in her voice. Given how much she loved Darren, she’s always wanted us to be something we’ll never be—friends. “Bennett and Luke both invited me, but no. You know how things were between us—I think it’s for the best that I stay behind. I’ll give therapy to Bennett on the drive down and he can go with the band. I’ll either explore Philadelphia or figure out strategies for his therapy while they’re away. I’m planning for him to drop down to one daily therapy session soon.”

She sighs. I wait for her to push me to visit Darren’s family, but she finally says, “Sounds good. Have a safe trip and don’t forget to text me.”

After we sign off, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror. I’m paler than normal. Great. I take a lengthy bath to relax—newsflash: it doesn’t work—and tie a towel around my body. When I glance at my phone, a new text has arrived.

COURT

You didn’t even leave NYC before making headlines!

None of which are true

Didn’t think they were but, OMG, that kiss!

Not what it seemed.

My gut prompts me to admit my last response to her is a lie. I know it. Bennett knows it. Court probably knows it. How to convince the public it was only a friendly kiss? I shrug into my comfy work attire and head downstairs to the bustling restaurant, where I’m directed to UC’s table in its own private room.

Oh, great. Pierce is the only other person in here. He glances up when I enter. “Hi,” I say. “Do you prefer I eat breakfast in a different area of the restaurant?”Or in a different state.

He glances into the main restaurant. “You can stay.”

From the tone of his voice, it feels as if he’s making a huge concession. While I want to sit as far away from him as possible, I go up to the buffet and fill my plate about half full, then select an empty chair next to him. Smoothing the napkin across my lap, I say, “Thanks. I was dreading going out into the general population.”

His cheeks inflate at my oblique reference to prison. “Perhaps staying with me might change your mind.”

My trembling fingers pause in picking up my knife. With determination, I cut some butter and put it on my mini croissant. “I think I’ll chance it,” I reply with a bravado I don’t feel.

Pierce’s talented finger skims the rim of his coffee mug. “I see you’ve moved on to Bennett.”

Of course he waited untilafterI’d taken a bite of my croissant to dump this on me. My gaze goes to his face. Instead of skewering me with vitriol, he’s looking into his murky brew. I swallow while composing my response.

“Pierce, we both know I’m on tour with UC to give Bennett the physical therapy he needs to heal his injury.”

“He seemed pretty damn good out on stage the past couple of nights.” His fingers leave the coffee mug and he picks up a pastry.

“That’s because he’s using some coping skills I’ve taught him as well as avoiding making certain movements. You haven’t seen him run across the stage, have you?”

His brows furrow. “No.”

“Spin around?”

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