BRIDGET GALLAGHER
A loud crack of a fist against the headboard woke me up in the middle of the night. I sat up disoriented by the unfamiliar sheets, forgetting that I had slept in Jacob's bed after we made up earlier. He was repeatedly punching the wooden headboard.
"Are you okay?" I said, groggy and confused. He began yelling, but his words were muffled into his pillow. I gently turned him onto his back to stop him from hitting it again. His hand was red and beginning to break skin.
His eyes were still closed as he continued groaning and yelling, clearly in the middle of a nightmare. He was drenched in sweat, saying something about a fire and his brother. I didn't even know he had a brother. I always avoided talking about his family because he couldn't stand discussing what happened.
"Wake up," I shook his shoulder, trying to wake him. He flinched at my touch. My heart ached as his shouting turned to begging for his brother's life. My hands rolled him onto his back to prevent him from hitting his hand again. I wanted so badly to help him escape from his head.
"Please, wake up." I raised my voice. His chest was burning up. Nothing I did woke him up, so I went to get a cold cloth from the bathroom. When I returned, he wasn't there.
"Jacob?" I called. He could not have gone far. I don't know why it occurred to me to look on the balcony, but I am forever glad I did. He was walking down the stairs to the beach, heading towards the water.
Before I could even process what he was doing, my feet sprinted faster than I knew was possible downstairs and outside to follow him. I finally got to him just as he reached the sand. The hissing, autumn wind unsettled my skin, leaving goosebumps along my arms. My hands pressed on his chest as he tried to walk passed me.
"Jacob, stop. Wake up." I begged loudly. He was getting closer to the water. I pushed against him, too weak to make a difference.
He continued murmuring about burning and wanting it too stop. The rambling were just clear enough to make out a few words. His eyes were now wide open and bloodshot, but it was clear he was still asleep. I jumped as his whispers became yelling.
"Let him go! Dad! Let him go!" He was nearly screaming in pure terror.
His arms coiled away from my touch as I tried to console his unconscious mind. I had never even seen him worried, let alone frightened like this. Confusion washed over me as I remembered his family died in an accident. If that was the case, why would someone want to hurt them? Why has never mentioned even having a brother?
He didn't even see me. His feet carried him closer to the water as if I wasn't standing right in front of him. Anxiety climbed up into my throat with each step forward. I wondered if the shock of the water would wake him up. If it didn't, I needed to know how to stop him from walking in deeper.
With my hands still on his torso, I let him walk until his feet hit the water. Despite my own body also feeling the shock of the frigid water, relief let me exhale as his eyes squeezed shut and flew open as he fell to his knees.
He started gasping for air. He looked up at me, looking so lost I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't know my name. I knelt down in front of him, so he could see my face.
"It's me, baby. It's Bridget." He cupped my face in his hands, almost like he was trying to figure out if he was still dreaming.
"You're awake." I assured him. He exhaled in relief as he recognised my face. The shallow breaths escaping his lung were rushed as he tried to recover.
He held my wrist up to his eyes, staring at the time on my watch. At first, I was confused until I remembered something I learned as a kid. You can't read time in your dreams. He still didn't trust that he was awake. He blinked a few times to make sure the time didn't change. As he convinced himself he was no longer dreaming, he let his head fall onto me.
"I'm sorry." His voice hummed against my neck. His shaky breaths against my shoulder made my heart hurt. He sounded like he was trying not to panic. I helped him up to his feet.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. Let's go back inside, okay?" I said. He didn't say a word.
When we got back to house, he sat on his couch staring down at his lap with his hands in fists. He was shaken up and trying to hide it. I hated that he felt the need to cover it up.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I handed him a cup of chamomile tea. He was focused on the bruises forming around his knuckles.
"Did I hurt you?" He answered with a question, sounding terrified of the answer. I crouched down in front of him, forcing him to see for himself that I was completely unharmed.
"No, the bruises on your hand are from punching the headboard of the bed. I couldn't wake you up, and you were really warm. I went to get you a cold cloth, and then, you were gone. You wouldn't wake up until you hit the water. You didn't hurt me. I know you would never do that. I was just scared."
"I'm really sorry. I never want you to be scared of me." His shoulders were slumped and defeated in contrast from his confident stature. Fear was evident in his dilated pupils, which took over his usually green irises.
"I wasn't scared of you. I was scared for you. You were suffering, and I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself." I explained. The subtle shaking of his fist turned my stomach, so I threaded my fingers through his.
"Has this ever happened before?" I asked. He nodded.
"It started a month after my family passed away. They were these vivid dreams that I couldn't wake up from. Sometimes I would get violent, but never towards anyone else, just destructive. It hasn't happened in years. I'm sorry you had to see it." He sounded emotionless to cancel out the natural disaster in his eyes.
I stopped myself from scolding him for apologising. Instead, I climbed onto his lap, feeling the need to be close to him as he seemed to grow distant to mask the traumatised look on his face. His neck was still hot and damp. The warmth of his arms around my waist settled my nerves.
"What happens in the dreams? I heard something about a fire. You screamed for your brother and your dad." I asked, softly. The pained look in his eyes was enough of an answer. I didn't want to push him, just give the option to vent.
"I know you deserve answers, but I can't talk about what happens. Whenever I try, I..." He said with another shaking breath. His gaze was fixed on the windows as the words got strangled in his throat.
"What happens when you try to talk about it?" I blurted out without thinking.
"I don't know how to properly explain it. My ears start to ring. My throat tightens up, and it's like I can't breathe. I just physically can't." He explained with a blank expression, staring off into space.
Did he not know that he was describing a panic attack?
"I just thought it would help to tell me about it. You don't have to." I said, running my fingers through his hair, which seemed to bring him back to me.
"Are you angry with me? I'm sorry I put you through this tonight." He sounded embarrassed. His concern was more for me than himself. I wanted to jumped into his thoughts to rid him of the trauma haunting his mind and choking his speech.
"Why would I be angry at you? You don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just hate that you have to deal with this. Please, do not apologise for something you can't control."
Our foreheads were touching as he pulled me against his chest. I had never experienced this strange feeling that I couldn't get close enough to someone even with his body wrapped around me. The millimetres between us were still too much.
"Did you ever see anyone about it?" I asked cautiously.
"I did. A neurologist diagnosed me with post traumatic stress disorder. I told him he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, and never went back. I was very angry at the world back then." He explained. I was shocked that Jacob actually went to a doctor. However, I was not surprised in the least that he ultimately didn't accept help.
"How did you stop the dreams?" I wondered.
"Alternative methods." He said cryptically. I had a feeling that I didn't want more of an explanation, so I let it be.
Curiosity ate away at me, but I shoved it aside for now. As much as I wanted him to be open with me, this was not the time to press him on things he didn't want to talk about.
"Why do you think it happened again?"
"I don't know. They used to happen more often when I was stressed, but I'm not stressed right now." He said.
"What can I do?" I asked, desperate for a concrete answer.
"You don't have to do anything. I'm okay, baby." He promised, sounding a little more like himself. His trembling lips kissed my temple.
"Would tell me if something was bothering you?" I asked, knowing what the answer was. I wanted to know if he would say it honestly.
"Probably not. I handle things alone. That's what I'm used to." He said with a guilty grin.
"I'm not going to lecture you on coming to me with stress because you've had a rough night, but you know you can come to me with anything," he kissed me before I finished, "Do you want to go back to bed?" I asked.
"No, if I go to back to sleep now, it will happen again. You can go to bed though. It's passed one." He said. I had never heard him sound sheepish. I was always the timid one.
"I'm not leaving you to sit here thinking about it all night. I'm fine. I'm wide awake and not going anywhere." I said as he nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck.
For the rest of night, I did my best to get his mind off of his dreams. I couldn't stop thinking about them myself. His family died in a boating accident, but he was yelling about a fire. Was there a fire on the boat? Why has he never mentioned that he lost a sibling too? I had so many questions, but I didn't want to pry.
I even poured us each a glass of whiskey to distract him. I needed it too if I'm being honest. The dark coloured liquor had me tipsy after one drink and drunk midway through my second. After two in the morning, my mind usually tends to go a little slaphappy with or without alcohol, which he took great amusement in. I had changed positions so that my legs were draped over his lap. As he doubled my whiskey intake, he absentmindedly drew circles on the tops of my knees, drunkenly giggling to himself.
"Why are you laughing?" I chuckled, sitting up to face him. His head was leaned against the couch with his chin tilted toward the ceiling.
"Why can't flowers ride their bikes?" He asked, trying to contain his laughter.
"I don't know, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me." I snickered.
"Because their petals fell off." He said before cackling uncontrollably at his own joke, revealing his dimples.
The joy that rose in my chest from seeing him laugh like this after seeing him in pain just a couple hours ago brought a wide smile to my cheeks. His laugh was contagious even though the joke was awful. We continued to debate life's greatest mysteries like whether or not Rachel and Ross were on a break or if water is wet. Our breath got away from us as we laughed hysterically at things that wouldn't be remotely funny if we weren't so exhausted. Eventually, I fell asleep with my head in his lap in the middle of an episode of Friends.
When I woke up in the morning, his lap was replaced with the armrest of the couch and a blanket draped over my body. A note was folded on the coffee table next to me.
Went out for my run. You looked too content for me to wake you. There's coffee and coconut milk creamer ready for you in the kitchen. I'll be back in an hour or so.
~ J
I had no clue what time it was or how long ago he left. I stretched out my arms as far as I could, feeling stiff from sleeping on the couch. The scent of fresh coffee helped wake me up. As I mixed my mug, I was stunned to see the time on the oven read 7:16. We couldn't have slept more than three hours. I wandered around the empty house, searching for my phone.
Jacob's house wasn't very personalised. There were no pictures anywhere. The only trace of his personality in the home was the ocean view through almost every window. The last time I remembered having my phone was while we were in his study, so I went to look there.
My feet stumbled over a risen floor board as I entered the office. As I picked up my phone from the desk, it occurred to me how strange it was that such new floors would be uneven anywhere. It was even stranger that only one individual wood panel was risen. I pressed on the panel to push it down, but it stuck up more. I knelt down and noticed the wood panel was intentionally not attached to the surrounding floor. Immediately, my nerves started climbing, worried Jacob would come back to find me snooping in his floor board like a psychopath. Underneath the loose panel was a shoebox sized, black steel case, locked closed. I quickly put everything into place feeling too uneasy that I was invading his privacy.
What would Jacob need to hide in the floors? Why was the box locked? Did this have anything to do with why he hates talking about his family?
My mind combed through every possibility until the life was scared out of me by the sound of footsteps in the house.
"Bridget?" Jacob's voice echoed. My legs went numb causing me to fall back hard onto my backside from my crouched position.
Before I could get back on my feet, he had already rushed to my side. He was damp and bare chested. I loved how he looked after a run.
"What happened? What are you doing in here?" He helped me up by my arms.
"I was looking for my phone, and then I tripped and fell." I said, hoping the guilt on my face would pass as embarrassment.
"What is in here for you trip on?" He chuckled. I've never been so relieved to hear someone laugh at my expense.
"It's not funny! And, I tripped on that part of the floor. It's sticking up. You should really get that fixed. Could hurt someone." I rambled nervously. If he didn't see through me before, he sure as hell did now.
God dammit, I am such a shit liar, and I haven't even told an actual lied yet.
He furrowed his eyebrows, obviously catching on to my uneasiness, "What is going on?"
My teeth bit into my bottom lip. I wasn't sure what to say. I knew I couldn't lie, but what do I say?
Oh, nothing, just finished violating your privacy and found a box you clearly want to keep hidden.
"Words, Bee, use them." He said, trying not to laugh. His hands ran up and down my arms.
"When I tripped, the floor board popped up. I saw the box hidden under it. I wasn't trying to snoop. I'm sorry. I feel like I invaded your privacy, but I didn't mean—"
"Relax, babe, it's fine." He interrupted my nervous ranting.
"It is?"
"Yes, the box contains some valuables from my family. I don't have a lot left of them, so I prefer to keep it protected," he explained. "What did you think it was that had you so jittery?"
"I don't know. I just felt weird." I laughed off my nerves.
Who keeps valuables in the floor?
He tried pulling me towards his chest, but the germaphobe in me resisted.
"No," I whined, "you're all beachy and sweaty. You will get sand all over me."
"Come here." He teased, inching closer with open arms. I made a break for it out of the room.
He caught up almost instantly, throwing me over his shoulder effortlessly. He held my legs in place so I couldn't kick or escape.
"No!" I squeaked as he ran up the stairs, "You're going to drop me!"
"I would never!" He shot back as he dropped me onto his bed. He lunged on top of me and playfully planted kisses and bites all over my neck and collarbone, making me laugh and shriek.
"Jacob, I'm going to kill you!" I giggled, thrashing under him, "I'm covered in your sweat."
"I would kill to see you try." This time his lips met mine in slow, lingering kiss. His held up his weight on his elbow while his other hand ran down my silhouette, sending shivers down my spine and wiping the smile from my face.
Heat began building up in my stomach at the touch of his fingers lightly tracing the bottom of my shirt. I gripped his hair as his lips trailed from my knees up to my thigh. My growing anticipation came to a halt when he stopped at my underwear with a smirk on his face.
"I should have a shower. Wouldn't want to get you all dirty." He said, using my objections against me.
Well, too late now, you ass.
"You can't be serious." I groaned.
"As serious as you were in the pool last night, darling. Don't tease unless you plan to win." He said, standing up off the bed.
My jaw nearly dropped, completely speechless, as he proceeded to the bathroom shutting the door behind him. I threw my head back in frustration.
AIDEN SHEPARD
Kai's voice has played in my head for days since I told Bridget I cared about her and meant it. I could hear him telling me how I disregarded everything he trained me to prevent. I could see his disappointment as he shook his head, saying that I shamed him and even worse, failed him.
What bothered me even more was the fear building inside me. She saw me truly vulnerable when my nightmares returned. I was thankful I didn't say anything that could have exposed me. The fact that they came back was further evidence that I was falling off track. I let myself care about Bridget. I allowed myself to feel. That little crack of an opening let those dreams that tormented me for years back into my mind. It was not only the dreams I feared, though. I actually was scared of my plan hurting her. The worst possible thing that could happen happened.
I had way too many fires to put out: the nightmares starting again, Bridget finding the box in my office and lying about it, and the whole damn world breathing down my neck because I admitted to caring about her. Not to mention, I am still working to take down Alec.
Nick wasn't helping the situation either. He saw the whole thing on the cameras we had set up in my office and didn't hesitate to shove down my fucking throat.
"Aiden, you are in some deep shit, mate." Nick snapped as he paced back and fourth in my kitchen.
"Everything I say to her is bullshit. You know that. Do I care about her well-being? Yes, I will admit to that, but just because I value her life doesn't mean I care about her. You practically grew up with her. I wouldn't believe for a second that you do not care about her." I said casually.
"This is more than just caring. If Kora wasn't so upset over it, I would not have even noticed how different you look when you're telling the truth. She can always tell when you're honest or not." Nick said.
"Kora told you this?" I started becoming uneasy.
"What did I tell him?" Kora had come in through the poolside door and overheard our conversation. Nick and I exchanged a look.
"Can you give us a minute?" I asked Nick. He nodded. I pulled her hand to close the distance between us.
"What's wrong?" Kora asked.
"You know that nothing I say to Bridget is true, right?" I said, trying to cover up my desperation for her to believe my lies. She pulled her hands away from mine.
"You said you care about her. You said she was the most important thing to you. You said that. It was real." She backed away from me.
"So what? The whole point is to make her trust me. I say a ton of shit to her that isn't true. It doesn't mean anything. I tell her my name is Jacob and that I like her family. You think that's true too?" I snickered.
"I saw the tape. You unintentionally said that. It was you, Aiden. Everything you said to her that day was real."
Kora's infection was flat. I wished she was angrier or at least irritated. Anger was easier to deflect while disappointment seeped under my skin, settling in like an antigen binding to its host cell.
"I was just scrambling for something else to say to justify why I should hire you. I didn't mean to say it to her at that point in time, but it worked to my advantage. It doesn't mean I feel that for her."
Admitting my feelings for Bridget would destroy any respect Kora had for me, but I was on unsteady ground, trying to convince her otherwise.
"Yes, you do, and you know that I can tell when you're lying. Right now, you're lying through your teeth, and it's insulting that you think you could convince me you are not."
"Kora, I do not care about Bridget." I said, hoping that maybe if I tried hard enough, I could will even myself to believe it.
"You are trying so hard not to, but you do." Her eyes filled with pity, which burned worse than the disappointment.
"I do not care about her. I am focused on finishing what we started, and I'm so close. I won't let that ruin this." I promised. What I would have given for these words to be true.
"But even if you cannot admit it to yourself, you obviously care for her. You need to decide if you can continue with this." She knew more than she was saying.
"If caring about her means I would save her from getting hit by a bus, then, yes, I'm guilty. The goal was never to hurt her. The goal is to hurt Alec. I can keep going." I reminded her.
"You know as damn well as I do that she is going to get caught in the crossfire. It's inevitable. You need to make yourself not care."
"Kora—" I was cut off. The information she was holding onto was going to come out. She had enough of my avoidance behaviour.
"No, unless the next words out of your mouth are the truth, I don't want to hear it. I didn't only see the footage from your office and the study. I saw the security tape from the front porch. I saw you sleepwalk to the beach. If your nightmares are happening again, that tells me, consciously or unconsciously, you lost control of your emotions. The sooner you admit it, the sooner you can fix it." She ranted. Her anger towards me was palpable.
"Even if you're right, which you aren't, it doesn't change anything. Her father still did what he did. I still want him to pay for it just as much as I did before. I will prove to you nothing has changed." I repeated myself, hoping this time it would stick.
"I know Kai does everything he can to leave us with as little humanity as possible, but you're still human. It isn't the worst possible thing for you to love someone."
"Maybe it isn't the end of the world for you to just end this." She threw her hands up defensively, knowing how I would react. My eyes narrowed at her, resentful she would suggest such a thing.
"Why would you even suggest that? After everything we've both done for this, you're suggesting that I quit?" Imaging that the mere thought of quitting even occurred to Kora infuriated me.
"I don't think I want to continue. I want to go back home." She said quietly.
"Why? Nothing is different, Kora!" I shot back, "Alec will to prison no matter what. I am doing what we trained for."
"Because you aren't going to finish this." She trailed off.
"Kora, for the last goddamn time, I feel nothing for Bridget." I roared as I slammed my fist against the kitchen counter without bothering to control the anger ripping through me.
"Don't lie to me, please. You owe me at least that much." Kora pleaded. For barely a millisecond, I witnessed her eyes become glossy before she instantly blinked it away.
I realised she wasn't only mad about the possibility of me ruining the plan, but she was also hurt. I owed it to her to be just as honest about myself as she was.
"Stay with me tonight, please. I'll prove you wrong. Bridget is in New York until Friday." I said, trying to sound as sincere as I could, despite every bone in my body rejecting the idea.
As much as it killed me to betray Bridget this way, it was in both our best interests to make Kora believe I hadn't lost sight of the process.
"You want to prove that nothing has changed?" She asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"Yes."
"Okay, I looked deeper into Bridget's past last week. I found two things that could be useful. First one, we could easily prove Alec basically paid her way into Yale. Nothing illegal, but dents their image nonetheless. Second, I found some pretty risqué pictures of Bridget that would hurt Gallagher Investments. Their clients and investors are very conservative. These photos would turn them off from the company."
Regardless of how I felt, none of our shots at the Gallagher's were supposed to be aimed at any of Alec's children. The goal was to hit him.
"First of all, Bridget had pristine transcripts. She had perfect grades and scored in the 95th percentile on her standardized tests. She got a 167 on the LSAT last year. If we release that story, her transcripts are the first thing the Gallagher's would use to deny the claims. What pictures are you talking about?"
"There are photos of Bridget. One of Alec's adversaries targeted her a couple years ago. He took intimate pictures of her in bedroom. Some of them are of her changing. Others are with her boyfriend at the time. He made them look voluntary. Alec thought he took care of it, but I have the photos. The clients at Gallagher Investments are conservative enough to pull their money if something like this came out." Kora knew how unnecessary it was to orchestrate a direct hit on Bridget.
This was a test. She was baiting my reaction to the suggestion of hurting her. I decided to stay calm but firm.
"No. No way we are using those photos for anything. You know as well as I do all of our hits are to be aimed at Alec not his kids. I'm not going to tell you to release them just to prove I don't love her. My goal is gain enough leverage to prove the things Alec has done. The pictures don't contribute to that."
An irritated smile appeared on her lips. She knew I was right, but she also wanted me to hurt Bridget.
"Kai will know you are the one turning down these ideas." She snickered.
"No problem. By all means, make sure he knows who is more focused on the real mission and who's more focused on testing my boundaries."
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Happy Saturday! A lot going on in this chapter. Sorry if it's too long
Hope you liked it! Comment and vote please🖤
Do you think Bridget will drop her questions or do you think she's getting suspicious?
How are we feeling about Kora?