Twisted-Games

top of that…
“It’s not,” I said firmly. “Your grandfather has an underlying condition.
Anything could’ve set it off.”
“Yes, and this time it was me. He was supposed to cut back on his stress,
and I gave him a year’s worth in one day.” Bridget’s laugh sounded hollow as
she stepped all the way out of my embrace and wrapped her arms around her
waist. “What a great granddaughter I am.”
“Bridget…” I reached for her again, but she shook her head, her eyes
fixed on the floor.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Everything fell silent. My heartbeat, my pulse, the hum of the fridge and
the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Could I still be alive if my heart wasn’t beating?
“Do what anymore?” My voice sounded strange in the vacuum Bridget’s
words created. Lower, more guttural, like an animal ensnared in a trap of its
own making.
It was a stupid question.
I knew the answer. We both knew. A part of me had been expecting this
moment since our kiss in a dark hallway a lifetime ago, but still, I hoped.
Bridget blinked, those beautiful blue eyes shimmering with heartache
before they hardened, and my hope died a swift, fiery death.
“This. Us.” She gestured between us. “Whatever we had. It has to end.”