The Bridge to a Better Life (3 page)

Hurt and regret washed over her, and she clutched the dog to her chest, trying to pull the pieces of herself back together. “When I heard, I…didn’t know what to think…and when you didn’t call me back...” She couldn’t tell him how much that had worried her. How the thought of his suffering had kept her awake those first two nights.

“I picked up the phone at least a hundred times to call you after he died, but I stopped myself.” He swiped at his nose. “Please understand. I didn’t want you to come to the funeral to try and comfort me—something I knew you would do. It’s who you are, babe.”

Yeah, she’d always been able to give comfort. Her problem was the inability to accept it.

“So now I know a little of how you felt when Kim died,” he said.

The eyes that met hers now were filled with love and hurt and empathy. And there it was again—that softening inside her she’d so feared. She fought to steady herself against it.

“I’m here to help you through it,” he said, his voice deeper now. “Maybe it will bring us back together. God, I hope it does. I hope it can at least give us the closure we need to live our own lives. I couldn’t get over you, Nat, despite everything.”

In a moment of pure honesty, she could admit to herself that she hadn’t gotten over him either—far from it.

Her knees were shaking now. “So this bridge…you’re what?” It took a moment for her mind to wrap around it. “You’re the owner of this bridge?”

“Yes. And the new owner of the house next door.” He traced the bridge’s post absently. “I told you I wasn’t letting you leave me. Not after the progress we made a few months ago at the Spring Practice Dinner.”

Off balance, she set Touchdown on the ground. He’d bought the house next door?

“Blake. That was nothing.” The words came automatically. Even after the divorce, she’d continued to cater the Raiders’ events. This year’s dinner had been a monumental disaster.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled toward her. “You kissed me, Nat.”

“I was—”

“You can’t blame it on being drunk,” he said, pointing his finger at her. “You were working.”

So, she got a little carried away when she drank. As in, she didn’t always remember what he called The Natalie Show. “My future boss was there, so I was…preoccupied,” she said lamely.

“Bull. You were preoccupied because of me. If I didn’t matter, I wouldn’t be able to get to you. And you wouldn’t have kissed me. You certainly wouldn’t have cried for the first time since I’ve known you.”

That lone tear had betrayed her. He knew she never cried. Not even after Kim died. She wouldn’t allow the weakness. Couldn’t bear it.

“You’re making too much of that,” she said, throwing her arms open in exasperation, only then realizing her robe was practically gaping open. She immediately brought the edges together.

“Some would say I am,” he said with a new shadow in his brown eyes.

“Please tell me you didn’t retire because of me.” Surely Adam passing away had to be the reason. She couldn’t handle the guilt otherwise.

He exhaled sharply. “You’re hoping it’s because Adam passed away. Sorry, Nat. Adam had been ill most of the year, and while I took his death hard, it wasn’t the reason I left football. It only showed me the truth. It’s why I decided to take action to make things right between us.”

Rooted to the ground, she could only gape at him. So, he really
had
retired because of her. “Blake! Football is everything to you.”

“I know what I need,” he continued. “I need you. So does Touchdown. That’s why I moved next door.”

“But how could this happen without me knowing?” she sputtered.

“I paid the past owners enough to send all their kids to Harvard, and they agreed to move out in secret once they found a new place. I knew you’d book it the minute you found out I was next door. That’s why I gave you some time to get settled. Of course, you left most of your stuff in our house in Denver, so there couldn’t have been too much to unpack.”

“I can still move,” she told him even though it would be financially challenging. Matt’s house was large, and on the far end of what she could afford. But she loved it. After leaving Blake, she’d rented a two-bedroom townhouse in a not-so-great neighborhood in Denver. At the time, she hadn’t cared where she lived—hadn’t cared about much of anything. Leaving the house she and Blake had lovingly created together without anything but an overnight bag had almost destroyed her.

“Running away won’t solve anything.”

Her heart beat in painful bursts. “You have to stop this, Blake. I didn’t want you to give up football for me.”

He looked down at his hiking boots and kicked at the turf. “I know you didn’t, but I couldn’t win you back from Dare Valley with my schedule. This was the only way I knew to show you how much you mean to me. How much I still love you. Nothing else has worked.”

And there it was. That vulnerability. In a man so big and strong, it seemed almost impossible. It was the very trait that had made her fall for him in the first place.

“But you can’t do this. You love football!”

“It’s done,” he said in that same dismissive tone he used when pushy reporters asked him why he’d thrown three interceptions. “Touchdown can come across the bridge and visit you now. I figured we can split custody.”

Like she didn’t know where that was leading. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Touchdown whined, and she leaned down to give his soft ears a rub, mindful of her robe.

“He’s yours for the next few days,” Blake said, ignoring her and walking back toward the bridge. “I’ll bring his stuff around, but I know you’ll want to buy your own set when you get around to it. No one is more independent than you.”

“Blake!” she called out, trying to remember he’d just suffered a monumental loss. “This can’t continue.”

At the bridge, he turned. “Babe, it’s only beginning. This bridge is my ticket to a better life. It’s my bridge back to you.”

His bridge to a better life? She almost dropped to her knees in shock, her heart pounding even faster in her chest.

When he was out of sight, she scooped up Touchdown and approached the bridge on trembling legs. Her mind told her she had to look at the symbols carved into the wooden post. Infinity symbols were etched everywhere in the wood, and the sight of them made her clutch the beagle tighter to her chest.

They’d had an infinity symbol engraved in their wedding bands.

This time she did sink to the ground.

Blake strode into the house to dig out his smartphone. He’d purposely turned it off right after the press conference, not wanting to deal with the media blitz that had surrounded his shocking early retirement. He’d called his parents from a friend’s phone to tell them he was okay and that he needed to take some time to himself. Since they understood him, they hadn’t tried to convince him to come home or to relinquish his quest for Natalie. They’d only said they would be praying for him and he should call if he needed anything. He’d touched base with them from the cabin’s landline two weeks later to tell them about his plans, which was when he had learned Natalie had reached out to them, to him.

It had been a struggle not to listen to her message and call her back, but he’d wanted to talk to her in person once his plans were in place. He hadn’t wanted her compassion to be the only emotion between them.

Besides his parents, the only people he’d talked to were his lawyer and assistant. They’d arranged the purchase of this house. Thank God money had prompted the former owners to vacate it so quickly. He’d gotten restless hiding out in the cabin he kept in Vail—the place he’d always used for escape when the media was hunting him.

Turning on the phone again after all this time took more courage than he’d expected. But it had been good for him too, allowing him to grieve in peace. He’d taken long walks in the mountains to help clear his mind. And he’d poured his energy into staging this move to Dare Valley, trying not think about what he’d left behind. Football. God, his heart burned as the text messages started to flood onto his display.

A recent one from his buddy Jordan Dean, quarterback for the Atlanta Rebels, made his gut churn.

I feel like a freaking male stalker. Where in the hell are you? Your mom says you’re okay, but you just up and quit football without a word? How can you be OKAY? CALL ME!

His parents had mentioned Jordan and a few of his best buddies had called the house. His closest friends knew their number, and he’d figured a few might try and reach him at their house, which is why he hadn’t stayed with them.

He scanned a few more of the texts. Most of them were from the media, no shock. Cripes, he had over a thousand text messages and was maxed out with forty voicemails. Wonderful. It was going to take some time to dig his way through them. Well, Kelly could do it for him when she drove up. His assistant would spend Monday through Wednesday working in Dare Valley; he’d secured a standing reservation for her at The Grand Mountain Hotel because of the commute. He didn’t need her full-time anymore, and one of his former teammates had been delighted to hire her for her remaining time.

Kelly was an organizational genius and had handled his move with her usual efficiency. He didn’t want to touch anything in the Denver house until he knew how things turned out with Natalie, so Kelly and a load of interior decorators had outfitted this new place to his tastes. He’d brought some clothes and toiletries with him, but little else—not even his Super Bowl ring.

He scrolled through his voicemails and located Natalie’s.

Blake. I’ve just heard about Adam. I am so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything? I know things have been…well, weird, but…”

She trailed off, and he waited to hear the rest of the message, his heart pounding hard.

“Well, I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. Adam was a beautiful man. I can’t imagine how much you and your parents are going to miss him. I’ll…goodbye, Blake.”

Her hesitation was enough to put a knot of emotion in his throat. He’d known she would feel sympathy for his loss, and while he appreciated that, he wanted a whole lot more from her.

He dialed up one of his best football buddies, who would undoubtedly be worried about him. Sam Garretty played for the Washington Warriors, but they’d met years ago at the famous football camp Sam’s dad ran in Ohio, which they all called the Once Upon A Dare Camp in honor of Coach Garretty’s annual speech at the camp opener. Blake had made seven friends for life at that camp, including Jordan, but he’d avoided calling them over the past weeks. He was afraid of how they’d react to his monumental decision to leave behind the sport they all loved.

“Hey, Sam,” he said when his friend answered.

“Glad you finally checked in,” Sam replied in the steady voice for which he was known. He never lost his cool—not even if his team was down three points with twenty seconds left. “Some of the guys were ready to hire a private investigator to hunt you down.”

“I’m not surprised. Jordan’s latest text said he felt like a stalker.” The way his mouth curved felt good. “Jordan always was a worry wart.”

“I won’t ask why you did it.”

“It wasn’t only because Adam died,” he felt inspired to say.

“I know it wasn’t. We all know it wasn’t.”

Because they all already knew how much he loved Natalie and wanted her back. They’d flown in to see him after the breakup, and they’d kept up a steady flow of visits to show their support. He wouldn’t have survived without them. And after it had become clear that Adam wasn’t going to pull through, they’d been there for him again. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as emotion rolled through his chest.

“You don’t have to spill your guts, but I have to ask: how are you really doing?”

The breath he blew out would have been enough of an answer for Sam, but he owed him more than that. “I don’t know yet. We knew we were going to lose Adam—heck, we’ve known all year—but it still hurts like hell. And I’ve just seen Natalie. I bought the house next door to her.”

“You’re in Dare Valley then? How’d she react to seeing you?”

He thought back to her flushed face, the worry in her beautiful blue eyes. Since Kim’s death, the color of her eyes had reminded him more of the blue ice of glaciers than the blue tongues of firelight. It had been good to see that warm blue color again today.

“She’s not overjoyed, but she didn’t lambast me like she probably would have done if I weren’t grieving. I connected our properties with a bridge. We can share Touchdown now.”

And other things, he hoped.

He was convinced the bridge was the key to a better life—just like he’d told her.

“Jordan said he wanted all of us to drop everything and fly out to see you when you resurfaced. Zack said he’d order us a case of bourbon. No one mentioned strippers, thank God.”

No, their group of guys wasn’t into that part of the life. When they got together, they acted like boys again, pulling more practical jokes than should be legal.

“Bourbon sounds good,” he said. “I guess I don’t need to worry about my alcohol consumption anymore.”

“Like you’d ever get drunk.”

He’d learned to stick to his limit the hard way—by puking on the high school football field the morning after a night of carousing. But losing Natalie had made him take leave of his senses for a time. He’d fought the divorce like crazy before admitting to himself that she wasn’t coming back. Then he’d chosen to numb himself with alcohol on a few desperate nights, even if it meant being sick later.