And always, always with that rueful smile.

What do you mean? 

I mean what I said. I'm not going to do...anything, Bridge. I'm not going to acknowledge or further entertain these ridiculous stunts by the Devil to get to me and to you. I didn't hear it. I'm not accepting it. I'm just going to keep going forward. 

What if he gives you a time limit?

A what? A limit? I'll feign ignorance and ask him what he means. Or are you being ironic and playing dumb now? I can play dumb too, Peanut. 

What if-

What if WHAT? 

What if...I go to him anyway? Then you don't get your due. It's all for nothing. 

Well then I guess the only way to prevent that is to not go to him. Then we're square. Right? 

I nod. He's always been smarter than the rest. Not by choice or by design but purely out of necessity.

Caleb is going to come looking for you.

Let him come. I'm ready for anything. You forget I have the upper hand here. 

He says that and I take it all back. It's naive and pie in the sky and exactly like Loch. A walking contradiction. All logic one minute, all magic and foolishness the next. Right from wrong depends on the day. God help you if you get the days mixed up.

STUPIDLY CONFLICTED. But at least not conflictingly stupid. We've got that much going for us, as ever.

If I don't take it will you leave?

No. 

If I take it will I lose you? 

No. 

I don't trust anything right now, Bridge. 

Then don't take it. Life continues as it did before. 

But you go to him anyway. 

If I do anyway, you may as well have the money. Take it.

But you'll leave.

Then don't take the money. 

I never wanted to sell you out. I never had any long con. I just wanted him to leave us alone. 

I'll con him all I want. If he's giving it away I'll be first in line. He owes me everything. I don't consider it selling out, it's more like further restitution. He looked after me, and now he needs to look after you.

Restitution. That's a technical way of putting this. 

It's payback, Locket. He went and made his existence and he's offering it to us. We've come full circle. Take it and enjoy it. You've suffered enough. 

But you might decide he's what you want. 

He'll never be what I want. I want you. And Ben. And...sometimes August. 

Bridget, he's been chipping away at you for years. What if this changes everything? What if it's a test of my loyalty? What if it's a test of yours? 

Then don't take it! Christ! Make up your mind. 

Not the Halloween party post you were looking for.

(Words, weapons, wrath. Wounds. Wary. WHAT the fuck.)

I made her wealthy. I can do the same for you and then you wouldn't have to leave her during the day, wouldn't have to worry anymore. You could buy a new RV. You could do whatever you please instead of shilling for dimes, Dóiteáin, working for the man. Worried you'll get fucked over before payday, worried something will happen when you're not around. Life changes when you have money. Ask Bridget what it's like now that she doesn't have to save up to buy shoes for Henry, or budget when she goes grocery shopping. Ask her what little I asked of her in exchange for everything I gave away.

But Lochlan isn't going to respond. Not like this. He's looking at the floor instead of at the gun. It was the only way Caleb could get him to stand still for a moment and just listen.

Diabhal-

Please, Neamhchiontach. Be quiet right now, Baby, please. His voice wavers but his hand is steady as he addresses Loch. I'm asking for time, and I'm going to pay for it. You're out nothing. She comes to me willingly and then at the end of the day she goes home. She remains yours. I get what I need. You're set for the rest of your miserable grifter life and no one gets hurt. I'm not going to bite her or tear her down. I just want to help her with Cole and I need to help myself. This will be nothing to you. Nothing she hasn't already done, nothing you aren't used to. I'll keep her safe, I promise you that but I don't want to spend the rest of my life pretending this isn't how life was meant to be. The three of us are here together for a reason. She isn't going to get better without me, let me fix this. Let me set things right-

I'm not selling out to you with her-

You wouldn't be selling out to anyone. I always thought we would go into business together, make our fortunes together. We can do that now. You become my partner. We can fix this. We did it, let's make it right. Before it's too late. Enough has gone wrong, Lochlan. There's been enough madness here. Let's fix this while there's still time. You've got her back finally, now is the time to make this the best life we can. I'm asking you for an arrangement that would put an end to this war. No more games. Just peace of mind. Accountability for your part in this. And Bridget gets better. Don't deny her this chance to be happy. Don't take away the last shot at fixing this because of your ridiculous pride. 

He waves us out. Think about this. We'll talk tomorrow. Or the next day. We can have the papers drawn up this week. You will both be fully protected in this arrangement. Whether it's a long con by you or not, I don't even care anymore. I just want this to stop. This fighting. This misery. 

Lochlan nods and then walks out, leaving me there. I follow him. he turns back on me halfway across the driveway in the dark.

Maybe it's a long con by you and Caleb. If I don't accept this, what happens to us? What do you want me to do here, Bridge? Which way are you hoping this goes?

I'd take it down but I can't bear to.

He came back into the kitchen, wrapping his fingers around my upper arms, pressing his forehead against mine, walking backwards until we were up against the wall. He smiled at me, painfully almost.

Don't write about it, Bridgie. Don't write about it when I touch you. Don't write about us making love. Don't put it there so he can see it. It's not for him. It's for us.

Weird. I thought Lochlan would be boastful, thrilled to have it right out there for everyone (the Devil) to read. But he isn't.

Would have stayed in bed all day.

You're the love that I hate
You're the drug that I take
Will you cage me?
Will you cage me?
You're the pulse in my veins
You're the war that I wage
Can you change me?
Can you change me?
From the monster you made me?
The monster you made me?

Starset fans, it's your day.

New music is the best music. Monster is a little bit catchy, a little bit poignant and a surprisingly whole lotta dancey. Which isn't something I'd equate with cinematic space rock but it works. And I love it.

Album soon.

***

When I went upstairs last night Lochlan was lying on the bed reading, his giant iPad braced against his knees, pencil in hand. Jeans unbuckled, shirt unbuttoned all the way to the bottom. Glasses on. Hair wild. Drink on the bedside table. Lamps on low, fire in the fireplace.

It's almost as if you were waiting for me. 

I was. 

I smile. Moments of complete peace are so rare. He sits up, picking up the glass. We can share, he says.

I walk to the edge of the bed and stand between his knees as he feeds me a sip and then undoes the buttons on my clothes. Slowly. He's watching me, noting as my mouth opens slightly as his warm hands reach skin.

Bridget, I just want what's best for you. 

Almost kills the mood right there. What is that?

Happiness. I'm trying to follow in everyone's footsteps when I should have been leading the way. I'm playing catch up here when I don't even know how I fell behind. It won't happen again. 

I know. He puts his arms around me, pulling me in close against him. I lean in hard and he lies back, feet still on the floor. He rolls over and pulls me up underneath him, pulling my legs up around him, pushing me down, letting me fight just a little while he smiles through his whiskey and then we're on muscle memory, letting history show us how to touch each other.

He pulled me up hard over him at one point and left me there in Lochlan Magic Outer Space and wouldn't let me down until I shivered and shuddered from his touch. Then he started all over again. It wasn't until hours later that he finally allowed himself to let go, tremors wracking him. He let out a soft groan against my ear and then I was asleep within seconds, held tight against him, his breathing slowing now and even against my forehead.

Perfect.

This morning I couldn't lift my arms, had no sugar left in my blood and zero energy left with which to stand up, let alone be as productive as I usually am first thing.

So stay here, he smiles at me, pulling me in closer still until we are pressed together under a mountain of quilts and hours spent just like this but for the sake of being warm. I am trapped. Ben has one hand wrapped around my leg. I don't even know when he got here, I just know that I want to stay here for as long as I can.

Back to sleep, Peanut, Lochlan whispers into the top of my head as I close my eyes again. Just for a little while.

Pumpkin stars.

This morning there were leaves floating in the surf, trying for purchase on the sand before being sucked back into the next wave. Fall at the seashore isn't a thing. The sea remains dark teal and grey. There is no change. It won't even grow cold yet, not for months to come after warming all summer in the sun. The leaves felt sorry for it and tried to colour it. Tried to cheer it up. Tried to help it blend in. Tried to make it seem like it belonged but it doesn't. It stands alone. A force we can reckon with all we want but we don't get anywhere.

It just keeps going, doing what it does. Day in, day out. Tide advances, tide recedes. Colors change with the clouds above. It has two uniforms, light and dark, two depths, shallow and deep and two temperatures, warm and cold.

Like me.

Autodidact.

(This day is brought to you by Between the Buried And Me's cover of Blind Melon's Change.)

Two people aren't happy about my penchant for waking up in strange places, like I did yesterday, though a suspended king-sized bed in the middle of a bright airy room isn't as strange as it is exhilarating, and they're not the people you'd expect.

The first is the Devil, who thinks he should carry carte blanche on any nocturnal attempts at comfort that I wish for, and the second is August, who continually kicks himself for allowing me past his head into his heart. Into his hands. He thinks he should hold himself at arm's length and be objective, productive and effective.

Naw, I tell him. You're effective alright, just not in the way you think.

And the part of me that needs the ghost that is Jake quiets just a little, probably taking a breather before spooling up hard in time for the week after next.

Because it's anniversary week and birthday week (9. 46.), a time when I am reminded that I'm not as wonderful as I think I am, or anyone thinks I am, but I was just enough to send him on a one-way trip to anywhere I wasn't. That I am too much and not enough and as impossible as Lochlan always says I am. That I was too dark for Jacob and not enough of anything else to be worthwhile.

It's not you, it's me, Jacob always tells me through a fine filter of swirling, settling dust motes in the light through the garage doors. But we sure make beautiful children. That's a gift.

I nod and leave him there. Too bad it wasn't enough of a gift to keep your feet on the ground.

Reparation anxiety.

Woke up with August today, bedhead and rain obscuring the ugly truth of using someone to dull the pain and the second ugly truth of knowing that he knows I'm never going to get better but he keeps up the guise of looking after me because he knows I need him and we don't want to fuck with the status quo now, do we?

I covered my face.

Show the day those pretty eyes, August whispers. The bed sways ever so slightly. He is lying on his stomach, his forehead pressed down against the side of my temple. He's smiling through his beard but he is tired. I take a lot out on him. He puts it all back inside but nothing advances the cause here, because like I said, we all have too much invested in this to make any positive change at all.

The day has seen my eyes. They float to the surface of every single moment. I whisper it back and August laughs quietly.

I needed Jake. I needed him to put his arms around me and hold me close and kiss me until my heart stopped racing and I could breathe again without having to remind myself to breathe deeper.

I needed him so badly I pushed the rest of my life out of the way, adamant. Not now. Just leave me alone. Just go. 

Life put up a good fight. Life has had enough of this and I can't fix it and ignoring it doesn't fucking work so we juggle the most innocent of the evils, grifting a series of events that will forge a path of least resistance to the end goal which is what, inner peace? An end to this hobbling grief? A better system of exacting life without turmoil, jealousy and emotional volcanoes?

What is the end goal?

To make it through to the end without changing things along the way. To sneak around these big catastrophic events without turning the whole mess into Pandora's box.

Good luck with that, August says as he drifts back to sleep, throwing one arm around me, dragging me closer, almost underneath him. I take a deep breath out and allow myself another half-hour here. One more half-hour of pretend life and then I go back to pretending I never knew him at all.

Tastes so good it makes a grown man cry.

I scream you scream
We all scream for her
Don't even try 'cause
You can't ignore her

(Sing it with me! No, don't, please. I always hated that song.)

I made a cherry pie yesterday afternoon with some of the cherries I picked, pitted and froze over the summer. There are still pounds and pounds to be eaten. I think I hate cherries now.

Kidding! These cherries are incredible.

It was going great until the plate boiled over and then the top crust separated and began to slide off the back side of the pie. I had to wait until it was done to coax it back (five arms, three sets of tongs and an icing spreader) but by then cherry filling had dripped down to the bottom of the oven (OF COURSE I forgot to put a cookie sheet underneath), making a lake of just plain sticky over the entire oven floor.

So I smartly hit the clean cycle to run while the pie cooled down. The oven locked itself and promptly caught fire. 

I'm looking at it thinking...well..it's contained, at least so this might not be so bad.

Eventually the fire burned through the cherries, running out of fuel and that was that. Five hours later (Hey, did you know the burners don't work when the oven is in self-cleaning mode? I didn't!) the oven unlocked itself and I was able to sweep up the ashes and life went back to normal. 

They're calling it The Night We Had Dessert For Dinner, and it was the best night of our lives.

Sugarmaybes.

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
'Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold on with all of my might
Just promise me we'll be alright

It just feels right, having everyone home. It doesn't feel like anyone's missing.

Your brain is missing, Bridget, Andrew tells me over coffee. We're plotting a trip to Robson street to go shopping (there's a new eclair store. JUST eclairs too. Kill me. They are like cake sticks with bonus surprises in them. How perfect.) but I also can't lift my arms to drive. I'm too tired. I walked seven hundred miles behind Ruth yesterday as she power-shopped for shoes for her graduation formal and then I came home and cried all night between watching episodes of Black Mirror and The Walking Dead.

Got a good hour long dose of Jeffrey Dean Morgan on TWD too. He's a lot like Caleb in looks and mannerisms except Caleb hasn't reached that stage of violence yet in life. Soon, but not yet.

He's been hanging around all day (Caleb, not Jeffrey DAMMIT). All last night. Constantly interrupting. Constantly requesting. Constantly being lonely so loudly I almost gave in to going over to watch a movie or something.

Or something, he smiles.

No, Peanut. Lochlan said it once earlier in the day and never again. End of discussion. I open my mouth to protest and his expression slices me in half.

If he's lonely let him go find someone to love. I did it once. And it's not like he isn't a keeper. He rolls his eyes.

The look coupled with that observation made me laugh so hard I almost peed my dress.

But instead I bit my tongue and nodded.

I never defy Lochlan.

To his face, anyway.

Besides, I made a conscious choice and I don't plan to second-guess myself. Lochlan is beautiful. And he's passionate about me to the point of not having further than simple passing interests in anything but me. How could I ask for more than that?

You won't ask. That's the problem. You'll just take it. And I don't know how many times we have to teach you this but he's very, very bad for you.