Page 122 of Hate You, Maybe
“For now, though, I just want donuts and soup with my friends.” She offers me and Bridger a weak smile. “Thank you, friends.”
Over the next half hour, we sit at the kitchen table slurping soup and rehashing the events of the day before. And by that I mean where Bridger and I were during the storm. We strategically steer clear of talking about Loren any more. As it turns out, Bridger was at the animal shelter, and he spent all afternoon working with the techs there to calm the poor dogs and cats.
“Why were you at the shelter in the first place?”
“I volunteer there a couple weekends a month,” he says.
Loren tears a donut in half and offers the other piece to Bridger. “How did I not know this about you?” She takes a big sticky bite.
“We don’t really know each other,” he says.
“Now that’s a straightforward answer if I’ve ever heard one,” I say. Meanwhile, my stomach feels a little sick. A combination of the pain meds I’ve been taking and my continued nerves over not hearing from Dexter.
So, I decide to be straightforward myself. And I turn to Bridger. “Have you talked to Dex?”
Unfortunately, when I ask this, Bridger has half a donutstuffed in his face, which gives him time to craft a careful answer while he’s chewing and swallowing. Then he grabs a napkin and wipes the sugar off his mouth. “I have.”
That’s it? That’s all I get?
“Is he mad about the FRIG?” Loren asks for me. Man, I sure do love my wing girl.
“Why would he be mad?” Bridger’s brow furrows.
“Because my department is going to get the money now instead of his,” I say. “And Dex was there with me at the hospital when Dr. Dewey and Mr. Wilford called to tell me the theater will be renovated.”
The crease in Bridger’s forehead only gets deeper. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Dex realizes they were talking about insurance money covering that.”
Loren and I both look at each other, our mouths hanging open for a moment. “Why didn’t we think of that?” she asks.
“Well, I have a head injury,” I say.
“And I have a broken heart,” she says.
Bridger pushes the bag of donuts over toward her. “Anyway, this is good news, right? You’ll get your theater fixed, and Dex will still get the gym fixed?”
“Win-win,” I say. “My two favorite words.”
“Of course, insurance claims do take a while to process,” he says. “And they may not cover all the upgrades you would’ve wanted in an ideal situation. Contractors will probably have to repair things that weren’t necessary before and?—”
“Hey, Bridge,” Loren interrupts. “I thought we were focusing on the win-win.”
I let out a long sigh. “No, he’s right.”
“But thegoodnews is,” she says, guiding the conversation back to positivity, “you are going to get that renovation.” She plucks a fresh donut from the bag. “Eventually.”
“Exactly,” Bridger says.
I chew at my lip. “So if Dex isn’t mad about the FRIG, is he mad at me?”
“Why would he be mad at you?” Loren scoffs. “Just because you risked your life going out into a dangerous thunderstorm to rescue a non-living teddy bear?”
“Dex isn’t mad about anything,” Bridger says. “That much I can tell you.”
I blow out a breath, shoulders slackening. “So I guess I just have to wrap my brain around the fact that he doesn’t care about me.”
Bridger meets my gaze. His eyes are soft. “That is definitely not the case.”
Loren points her soup spoon at him. “What do you know, Bridge? Spill.”
