Page 26 of Same Rogue
Matt released him and tilted his head toward the house. “Gina’s making lemonade.”
Bridger’s heart had been in his throat, pounding away, but at that, the tension released its chokehold on his nervous system.
They were okay with him being here. Of course they were. They had always been kind to him.
“How have you been?” Matt asked as he led him inside.
“Oh, you know. Living the dream,” Bridger murmured.
The second he walked through the door, he could smell her—Amelia. It wasn’t her, exactly, but her clothes had always smelled like this place, so he had always associated her home as part of her scent. Her mom was still using the same laundry detergent, and the smell of Amelia’s shampoo clung to the air. Gina had always liked the scent of a shampoo Amelia used, and Amelia had gifted her some for Christmas one year. She must’ve carried on with it.
His senses were overwhelmed and he froze in the entryway as a dozen memories flooded him. Making out on the frontporch. Getting busted by Matt once. A hundred times of jogging up those stairs after Amelia to hang out in her room.
Matt had stopped his advance into the living room and nodded at him sympathetically. “It’s okay. You always do this and it always settles down after a few minutes.”
“Yeah,” Bridger said thickly.
He couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes anymore. His guilt was endless.
His phone was sitting in his truck outside, filled with flirty texts from Kit, while his mate was long buried, and it had wrecked these nice peoples’ lives.
Matt gave him space and made his way into the living room, disappearing around the corner.
A few things had changed here. There was a new floral picture where Bridger and Amelia’s wedding picture had once hung, but their family pictures still sat in frames on the front windowsill.
The ache in his middle at seeing them suffocated him.
He’d been the lone werewolf in this family for years, and they had treated him like a son. Like one of them.
And he’d killed the most important thing in their world.
He’d done that. His love had killed her.
He ran a hand down his short scruff and looked longingly at the door, considering the escape that would get him out of these awful feelings.
At that moment though, Gina, Amelia’s mom, came around the corner, her arms outstretched. Bridger gentled the hurricane that was on a path of destruction inside of him and hugged her gently.
“It’s so good to see you,” Gina murmured, emotion thick in her voice.
“I’m sorry,” Bridger said, his voice cracking on the word.
“You always say that when you come here and I always tell you I’m going to be mad at you if you say it the next time you visit us.”
He inhaled deeply and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Once upon a time, she’d been like a mother to him.
Gina eased out of his arm and tugged him toward the living room. “I made snacks.”
Bridger couldn’t help his smile as he followed her. She’d made him food hundreds of times. She was one of those humans that genuinely loved cooking and showing affection by feeding hungry people.
“What’s new around here?” he asked, searching for the start of a conversation that would peel the emotions from his heart.
“Oh, Matt retired a few months ago.”
“Gina says she hates it,” Matt said with a chuckle from where he was filling a plate with olives and cheese cubes from a board Gina had put together.
“I don’t hate it. He’s just here a lot. Like…” She arched her eyebrows at Bridger. “A lot.”
Matt laughed. “You would think she doesn’t like me anymore.”
