“Awful. Oh yeah, here.” Bridget shifted slightly and reached into her pocket, grabbing the three items she had pulled from the cruiser. “I took this while I was there. I put them in every cruiser I drive.”
Jerica held her hand out and took the small items. “What do they mean to you?”
“Well, the cross is obvious. I may not go to church or really believe, but I’m not going to discount there might be a God either, and if God is going to protect me, I’ll take that protection as much as I can.”
“And what about the other two things.”
Bridget pointed at the badge. “This is to remind me where I started and how far I’ve come. It’s a good memory, and I don’t want to ever lose it.”
Jerica smiled and pinched the quartz heart between her fingers. “And this?”
“That is to remind me where my heart always is, and where it always will be. But I think, instead of putting it in my next cruiser, that you should keep it.”
Jerica stared down at the small item, her eyes lighting up. She canted her head to the side, a mischievous look crossing her beautiful features. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m saying nothing in words yet.”
“But—”
“Uh-uh. You can wait a bit for those, I think. But keep it.” Bridget grabbed the cross and her badge and shoved them back into her pocket, leaving the heart for Jerica. “Let it mean what you want it to mean.”
“I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work, Bridge.”
“Well, it’s how it’s going to work today. Leave it be for now. I have to tell you about the rest of my day. Then you can fill me in on yours. Deal?”
“Deal.” Jerica leaned in and kissed her fully. “Talk away, Sheriff.”
Bridget spent the next hour going through her nightmares. The one she’d had that day and the ones she’d had most nights before then. She opened up in a way she never had before, making specific decisions about what to share and taking those risks to be vulnerable. She never would have done that with anyone before, but Jerica had already seen her at her worst, multiple times. They talked for hours, eating dinner somewhere in the mix, and then falling asleep in each other’s arms. It was one of the best nights in Bridget’s life.
CHAPTER18
Bridget hadno idea when she’d fallen asleep the night before, but she had been nestled in Jerica’s arms and it must have been early. Because it was barely five in the morning and she was wide awake—as if someone had given her a large dose of caffeine—and ready for the day. Slipping from the bed was easier than expected. Jerica had moved in the night and faced the other direction.
Grabbing her crutches, Bridget went as quietly as possible to the bathroom upstairs and relieved herself. Then she stood awkwardly in the vertex between the kitchen and living room, trying to decide which would be better. Her ankle barely ached, luckily, so she made a hard left and crutched her way into the kitchen. She could make breakfast for the both of them before Jerica had to go to work again.
She leaned her crutches against the counter and then stood at the refrigerator, attempting to figure out what to even cook. Usually she was an eggs or only coffee kind of morning person, but since living with Eli, she’d gotten used to far more elaborate breakfasts. She wasn’t quite sure she could pull any of what Eli managed, though, especially when only cooking for two.
Next she tried the cabinets, opening and closing them carefully so she wouldn’t make too much noise and accidentally wake Jerica up. Pressing her lips together hard, Bridget debated. There were eggs, and she could make those, but she had no idea how Jerica liked her eggs—something she was going to have to ask about. She could equally make a casserole, but that would involve way more food than only the two of them needed and would easily last a week.
Nixing that idea, Bridget moved on to the next. Pancakes. It wasn’t exactly her specialty, but they couldn’t be that hard to make, could they? Except Jerica didn’t have pancake mix, but she did have the ingredients to make them from scratch. Sighing, Bridget reached into her pocket for her phone and researched a quick recipe.
She could do this. She could surprise Jerica with breakfast before she went to work for the day, and then she could hang out, clean up, and do nothing all day while Jerica worked. Bridget frowned. She sounded absolutely lazy. She had to keep reminding herself that she was injured and recovering andthatwas her job, but it still felt lazy.
Bridget was used to being up early, going in to work, spending ten to fourteen hours working, easily, and barely being at home in general. When she wasn’t working, she was volunteering for things, like going down to the school in a professional capacity, running the funeral lines from churches to the cemetery, or even coaching basketball. Still, she hadn’t done anything in two months now, and it was killing her.
She really should see if she could at least coach basketball when spring hit. She missed her girls, and while she might still be on light duty and not able to run the courts, she should be able to yell and coach from the sidelines. Making a mental note to talk to the head coach about that, Bridget pulled out what she would need for the pancakes.
Snapping a quick picture of it, she sent it to Eli with the words,“Who would guess? I’m up in the morning making breakfast for a woman.”
Eli simply wrote back,“It’s about time, and don’t burn it!”
Bridget ignored the jibe and pulled up the recipe on her phone again. She very carefully measured all the ingredients she would need, leaning against the counter if the pressure on her ankle was too much. She grabbed a whisk and hobbled back over to the counter next to the stove and began mixing, making sure to get all of the lumps out. She had just finished when she realized she was supposed to leave at least some lumps, wasn’t she?
Panic welled in Bridget’s chest, that she’d already messed up before she even got to the cooking part. Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure Jerica wasn’t anywhere near her as she attempted to search via her phone if she was supposed to have lumpy pancake batter or not, and mostly coming up with the results that lumps were a good thing.
Cursing under her breath, she debated whether or not to remake the entire batter, but at that point, she didn’t have much time to cook before Jerica’s alarm would be going off and it would be time for her to head into work. Pursing her lips, Bridget decided to just go for it. She moved the cast iron skillet to the stove top, turned on the electric burner—which she hadn’t cooked on in decades—and waited for it to heat up.
With butter finally sizzling, Bridget dropped batter onto the skillet and stared at it, hoping it would cook the right way. When there were no bubbles, panic welled in Bridget’s chest again. She was going to fail this breakfast hard. With her jaw tight, she slid the spatula under the pancake and tried to flip it, but it melted all over the sides of the spatula and flopped onto the skillet.