Bloodline [h.s.]

twenty.

Eight days. It has been eight excruciating days since I have seen or heard from Bridget. All methods of contact have gone unanswered. The only reason I even knew she was alive was through Peter mentioning her. Not knowing what she what thinking or why she wasn't speaking to me was uncharted territory. I was actually anxious about her silence, not only because of the mission, but I missed her. I hated that I missed her. Anxiety wasn't something I tolerated well to say the least. I never felt anxious before her.

To avoid this strange new sensation of emptiness, I buried myself in work and distractions such as Kelsey's murder investigation. Michael Allen had been tirelessly with Nate to dig up his wife's written communication's with Alec to prove he was threatening her. The detectives were drifting in the direction of ruling her murder a random robbery despite the fact her credit cards were still in her wallet next to her corpse. I told Nate to advise Michael to accept that for now because, otherwise, he would be their next suspect.

With every new finding, my mind bounced back to Bridget. What would she do if her dad had become the prime suspect? Who would be there for her if we got him arrested or convicted? Each distraction somehow detoured my thoughts back to her. Even on my morning runs, I couldn't escape her. Anytime I passed a blonde ponytail jogging on the beach, my heart skipped a beat hoping it was her, only to be disappointed. However, this morning, I vowed to not think about her the second my feet hit the sand. My headphones blared out the ocean of thoughts I had been drowning in since I last saw her.

The only items allowed in my head were the waves, the sand, and the sky as I ran. This is precisely why as I approached a bouncing blonde ponytail jogging metres ahead, my heart remained in normal sinus rhythm. Except this time, she slowed as I got closer. My eyes registered a familiar, ragged Yale t-shirt with the sides cut out.

It's a coincidence. Don't think about it. When she lifted her sunglasses into her hair, I knew it was her. A strange feeling took over my stomach as I approached. It was the same sensation of going over a small hill in the car or coming down from a swing, but why was I feeling it at the sight of Bridget?

"Hey," she said as I stopped in front of her. Her usually sun-kissed face was pale and hollow.

"Hi," I said. We stood there for a moment both waiting for the other to break the tension. All words seemed to have taken a hiatus from my brain.

Remember your training. Speak.

"I'm really sorry." She said before I could, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"W-what happened?" I gulped awkwardly. As I dug my feet into the ground, the waves crashed over my ankles sinking my feet into the wet sand along with my ability to speak.

Since when do I stammer?

"My fight or flight. I chose flight after taking everything out on you for no reason." She said nervously, "I'm not the best at telling people what's actually bothering me."

Being by the sea always seemed to make her communicate what was going through her head. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for me this morning.

"I get it. Um... I have to get back. I have to be at work by nine." I said truthfully, but I would be lying if I said my own fight or flight didn't have anything to do with it.

She struggled to cover the hurt expression on her face after she looked down at her watch to see it was only seven.

"But, we could have lunch at my office today? Around noon?" I added quicker than I intended.