Page 1 of Extended Bridge (Passionate Beats #2)

Chapter One

T he Gossip ’s headline mocks my every move— Black Widow Prepares to Strike Again

There’s the awful term again. Black Widow.

When the press first called me that, I was too shocked at the ugly name to do anything more than bury my head in the proverbial sand.

They’ve kept at it, and now I feel like most of my time in therapy following Darren’s death was for naught.

I have no control. Guilt is more crushing than ever.

All the air in my body lodges in my throat.

Without a backward glance, I toss on my shirt and sprint out of the bedroom I had commandeered.

Seize my purse. Speed down the mansion’s stairs.

Grab my keys from the table in the entry foyer.

While I race to my SUV, I click open the front door and slide in, dumping my bag on the passenger seat and pressing the button for the car to start.

My foot hits the accelerator a second later.

Secluded Rest, the rental house of Bennett Hardy, the lead singer of Untamed Coaster, finally appears in the rearview mirror. I take my first long breath since Courtney’s text arrived. And pound the steering wheel.

I thought I’d escaped the vitriol from Darren’s family years ago, only to be plunked right back to the time when he died.

I repeat the mantra from my psychotherapist: I’m not responsible for Darren getting addicted or for his death.

The only things I take blame for are falling for him—and enjoying his playful pranks—and over-the-top lifestyle. So unlike my own.

I swipe the tears flowing down my cheeks. Before I get caught up in memories of the first man who changed my life, I need to regroup. Talking with the person at the center of the current shitstorm—the second such man—won’t help either.

Bennett.

At the mere thought of the sexy lead singer who I shared a shower with not even thirty minutes ago, my body freezes. Before boarding the helicopter to return to Aroostook, his manager whispered into my ear, “I like how B is with you. You two make a great couple. Don’t break his heart.”

But who’s going to protect mine?

I wave at the security guard manning the entrance to Bennett’s gated community and head out, where a gaggle of reporters lie in wait. For me. I stomp on the gas and take off at a fast clip, the majority of them hot on my tail.

If I want some space, I can’t go to a public place. My house is off-limits, as are those of my friends’ and Ma’s. The clinics come to mind. They’ll be safe. Reporters aren’t legally able to enter private areas. Given the time of day, I pray there aren’t too many patients to interrupt.

With squealing tires, I take the final turn into the private driveway leading to my first At Your Service PT location. Parking behind the building, I exhale over the steering wheel. How can this be my life again?

My phone rings and my bestie’s name appears on the screen. Trying to regulate my breathing, I say, “I’m in the parking lot.”

“Great. Come on up and we’ll talk about this.”

Court’s a good egg. We met in physical therapy school and hit it off immediately. We worked together in a couple of clinics, and now she’s my right hand—in charge of my flagship location. I run all major decisions by her. What is she going to say about this mess?

Checking the rooftops for telephoto lenses like Bennett taught me, I scurry to the back door, and ignoring the elevator, take the stairs up. I need to expend energy. When I cross the threshold, Court stands with her arms open. I fling myself into them.

The tears I’d hoped I banished return double time. Court pats my back. “Come on, honey. Let’s go to the office.” She leads us into her corner office with windows facing the waiting room. After directing me to her couch, she closes the blinds.

A tissue waves before my eyes. “Where would you like to begin?”

I blow my nose. “I don’t know.” Tears continue to fall.

“I’m so sorry this is happening again. I thought once it blew over with Darren’s family, we’d seen the end of it.”

“It doesn’t seem like his mother or sister got the memo.” I drop a used tissue on the floor and pluck a new one.

“They want you away from UC. The least they could’ve done is wish that awful Lissa woman disappeared as well.”

At the name of Bennett’s high school ex-girlfriend, I gulp more air. “Bennett and Lissa dated in high school. She dumped him for his best friend, who was a year older and offered to take her to the senior prom. They never looked back to see the wreckage they left in their wake.”

“I wondered what the true story was there. The article made it seem like you were Camilla in Charles and Diana’s marriage.”

I scrunch up my face. “No way. Lissa came to our table during dinner and caused a scene. Frankly, Bennett didn’t talk about her too much afterwards.

He really is over her, although the scars linger.

” Namely, he doesn’t call anyone “friend.” Plus, he hasn’t had a girlfriend since her—but he did tell me he loves me.

“What a bitch.”

I laugh for the first time following my escape from the mansion. “She’s something, for sure. All plastic surgery and hair extensions. ”

Court raises her left eyebrow. “I bet a size zero as well?”

“Don’t you know it.” The reality of what's happening hits me. “What am I going to do?”

“I think you need to come out strong to the reporters. Tell your side of the story.”

“Which is what? Darren was prescribed pain meds, abused them without my knowledge, and overdosed? Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.”

Her shoulders lower. “You’re right. I was there, I remember. If they didn’t believe you then, how will they believe you now?”

My entire torso droops. A moment later, I sit up straight.

“It’s different because I’m a different woman.

I have two physical therapy clinics, just got a bank loan to open a third, and can use the money I’m getting from treating Bennett for a fourth.

I’m respected in the community. Our services are highly regarded. ”

“All that is true, but I feel we need something extra.” She pauses. “What about Bennett?”

My response is swift. “What about him?”

“Well.” Her gaze bounces around the room. “Are you hooking up with him? Going to join him on tour like the article said?”

“Courtney! You know therapists can’t cross the line with our patients.” Although I did. Several times. Barely an hour ago. My lady parts tingle.

“I know, I know. Just saying, I wouldn’t blame you. That man is fine. With a capital F.” She nudges my shoulder.

And capital I, N, and E as well. I resist the urge to nudge her back.

I’m not about to reveal my shameful breach of ethics, so I choose the other truth.

“Bennett wants me to join the tour as his physical therapist. We met with his doctor yesterday”—was it only twenty-four hours ago?

—“who prescribed continued PT until he’s fully healed.

” When it all went down, I had shared with her all about his grade three groin pull and my misdiagnosis as a grade two, and Court knows about our PT work together.

“How’s he coming along? ”

“His muscle pull is healing. Between you and me and the doctor who saw him yesterday, we believe it will be at least three more months of PT before he’s fully recovered. The doctor and I agreed not to tell Bennett this, though. Honestly, if he keeps on reinjuring it, it’ll take longer.”

“What’s delaying his progress?”

“Oh, the usual. Making too fast of a movement.” My lips purse. “Usually caused by reporters following him like bloodhounds.”

“Sounds as if he needs you with him on tour. Do you think he’ll be okay onstage?”

She’s hit on my main fear. With injuries like his, recovery can take longer if they’re not babied. There’s no telling what crazy thing he’ll do while performing that could set him back weeks, if not months.

“Honestly, I’m unsure. He’s reckless.” I use Darren’s descriptor of him, even though the man I’ve gotten to spend time with is anything but.

More like broken. I shake my head. “After all, he caused the groin pull by executing a crazy jump during their performance following the premiere of Untamed Coaster Unleashed .”

“I finally got to see the movie, by the way. I liked how you were portrayed.”

I offer her my first real smile since leaving Bennett’s place. “Thanks. Quinn Walker, the director, has a gentle hand. To me, it showcased everyone as they really are, but with an undercurrent of quiet positivity.” I shrug. “Maybe that’s how they are nowadays. More introspective.”

Although I say this, I’m not sure. The only time I’ve interacted with all of them since Darren’s funeral was when I diagnosed Bennett backstage.

When I was with their keyboardist, the band was hyper-focused on making it to the next level.

He was the prankster, although their drummer took a close second with his huge personality.

“Perhaps they’ve grown up. ”

Things might have changed for them—they certainly have for me. “Haven’t we all?”

In the time since Darren’s death, I’ve had to do a lot of that.

Moving houses, starting my business. Going to intensive psychotherapy at Ma’s urging.

As she put it, “I didn’t take you when my mother died, and you need to resolve these issues to move on.

” As usual, she was right. There wasn’t any time for frivolities like concerts or even movie theaters during my recent past. My singular focus has been building my business.

Despite my doubts as to whether Darren and I would’ve lasted long term, considering how different we were, I still want to open ten clinics to make him proud.

“What are you going to do?”