The Bridge to a Better Life

~ Dare Valley ~

Natalie & Blake

© 2015 Ava Miles

Sports hero and newly retired NFL quarterback Blake Cunningham wants a second chance at love…with his ex-wife. He's bought the house next door to her in Dare Valley and has built a bridge connecting their properties. It's his bridge to a better life, the one he lost when Natalie Hale left him after a family tragedy destroyed their marriage.

Natalie has just started a new job as the head caterer at the small town's historic hotel. When she discovers Blake has become the boy next door, literally, she secretly has to admit he still fires up all her engines and tugs at her heart. But the ghosts from their past seem too monumental to conquer.

Blake vows to help Natalie remember the power of their love and friendship. With the intense sparks of attraction flying between them, Natalie begins to put her heart out there again. How can she resist Blake when he makes her laugh and swoon by even acting out her secret Outlander fantasy? As they both give love a second chance, they are forced to face their most disturbing memories, not only the tragedy that ripped their lives apart, but also the secret parts they were afraid to share…

I've never seen an author dedicate a book to herself, but after writing this book it seemed appropriate. Once you read it, you will understand why. So, here's to me and all my facets: the beautiful, the wild, the vulnerable, the trusting, the doubting, the scared, the brave, the hidden, the exposed, the funny, the sad, and the spiritual and very human.

To A-for meeting me on the other side of the bridge.

And to my divine entourage, who helped me build the bridge to my better life.

My Fairy Godmother gratitude to Team Ava for all they bring to my better life. To Sienna, for always being there and branching out in new ways to support me; to Angela, for totally getting my stories and messages and being the best editor in the world; to Louisa, for the creative alchemy she brought to this cover; to Em, for breathing life into my characters in audio and conveying my heart; to Hilary, for handling all things audio with incredible ease and efficiency; to Leigh and Beth for their eagle eyes on my manuscripts; and for my Angels, who support me in the best way an author could ever hope for.

To Tabitha King and Dr. Katie DeFore for giving me insights on the medical challenges for people with intellectual disabilities.

T.F. You are one of the most magical elements to my better life, and I believe in you.

And finally, to all my readers: to the ones who simply read; to the ones who contact me; to the ones who connect on social media; to the ones who tell me their own stories and how my books made a difference in their lives. Thank you for reading and may you be blessed by the time you spend in Dare Valley.

Over Two Years Ago…

Natalie Hale had never been colder. The blanket of snow she could see through the window seemed to stretch on forever, like the world’s longest wedding train. Given that she’d been at her best friend’s funeral only minutes before, the comparison seemed crazy. A wedding was all about celebration and joy, neither of which could be found in a field of frozen gravestones.

Her husband continued to speak, a muffled litany of white noise, and she curled deeper into her seat in his SUV. His hand touched her thigh, and she heard him calling her name off in the distance. Then he jostled her.

“Natalie!” she heard him say louder, this time through the fog.

The effort to turn her head zapped all her energy. Blake Cunningham’s sandy brown hair was dotted with sweat at the temples, which was strange when everything was so cold.

“Honey, you’re still freezing,” he said in a strange voice.

It took her a moment to realize it was hoarse.

“Hold on. We’re almost home.”

There was a burning under her bottom, and it took her a moment to remember he’d turned the butt warmers on high. The temperature inside the car read eighty-seven degrees. That must be why Blake was sweating. Why wasn’t she? Then she remembered. Death’s cold fingers had touched her, turning her to solid ice.

She buried herself deeper inside her wool coat and shut her eyes. Time passed—an unknowable quantity—and then a car door slammed and strong, familiar hands drew her out into the cold air. Her husband’s muscular arms wrapped around her as he led her up the garage steps.

Touchdown greeted her when they reached the kitchen, winding excitedly around her legs. Her body felt like an ancient glacier as she bent down to pet the beagle. Even the dog’s smiling face couldn’t melt her. She straightened with effort to see Blake filling the red tea kettle and putting it on the Viking stove.

“How about a grilled cheese?” he asked, his brow knit as he loosened the navy tie around his neck and undid the button to his gray suit jacket. “You didn’t eat anything today.”

Food? She’d once loved it, but her taste buds had joined the rest of her in this wasteland of winter. She hadn’t been able to taste anything for days, which scared her to bits since she ran her own catering business. But even when she tried to figure out what to do about it, she couldn’t. Her mind couldn’t process anything right now. Even choosing an outfit for the funeral had been hard, which was crazy since all she’d needed to do was wear black.

“I’m not hungry.”

Blake helped her out of her coat, gloves, and scarf, and then wrapped his arms around her. “I know you’re not,” he whispered into her ear, “but you’ve lost fifteen pounds, honey. You need to keep up your strength.”

She laughed hysterically, and he snapped back to look at her, his eyes wrinkling with concern.

“Fifteen pounds won’t kill me. Now, forty? That’s another story.” Kim had been eighty-four measly pounds when the cancer took her. She had only been thirty, the same age as Natalie.

His throat moved like he was searching for a response, but had none. He smoothed the hair back from her face with exquisite gentleness. “I’m calling Coach to tell him I won’t be able to play Monday night.”

A jolt of something other than cold spurted through her system. “But you’ve never missed a game. Not once in your whole career.”

His thumbs caressed her face. “You need me more than my team right now. Everyone will understand.”

But weren’t the Denver Raiders playing the New England Loyalists, their rival for the division? How was Denver supposed to win without their star quarterback? “But it’s Monday Night Football.”

“It doesn’t matter. Come on. I’ll pour you your favorite tea, and we can cuddle on the couch.”

He wanted to cuddle? She couldn’t bear it. There was a white-out blizzard swirling inside her. Cuddling wouldn’t keep it away. She knew only one sure way to battle its frigid temperatures.

Keep busy. Don’t touch anyone. Block everything out.

“Go to the game, Blake. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine, honey. Your best friend and sister-in-law just died. No one would be fine after that.”

He’d only started calling her honey since Kim had been diagnosed. She hated it. Before, she’d always been babe, carefree babe.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He was going to press her to talk about how she felt like he was some sports psychiatrist, and the energy it took to fight him off was draining. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? Stepping away, she turned to leave the kitchen. The bathroom seemed the best choice. He wouldn’t follow her in there.

“Natalie,”
he called. “Honey, where are you going?”

Away from you
, she wanted to answer, but her mouth was too dry from the cold to muster the response. She heard his footsteps behind her, and another jolt went through her. He
wasn’t
going to leave her alone this time.

“Natalie, you can’t keep running from how you feel. Honey, I know it hurts, but you need to talk about it and have a good cry. Please just let me hold you.”

A good cry? What in the hell was he talking about? There was nothing good about crying. She never cried.

“Leave me alone, Blake,” she ground out, biting her tongue. The pain barely computed.

“I can’t. You keep asking me not to hold you or touch you, but the more I do as you ask, the more you slip away from me. Natalie, honey,
please
let me help you.”

She turned around as an arctic blast of cold shot through her internal landscape, punctuated by thunder. Thunder snow was the worst kind of storm. “I don’t want your help. I’m handling it. Just leave me alone.”

He ran his hands through his sandy blond hair, that hair she loved raking her own hands through, and planted them on his hips. “I can’t do that. Honey, you’re hurting. I love you. Let me help you. We’ll get through this together.”

“There’s nothing to get through. Kim is dead, and nothing will bring her back.” Some remote part of herself started screaming at the injustice, but she retreated from the sound, running through the cold drifts of snow in her mind to a sanctuary of numbness. She couldn’t let the emotion come back. It would destroy her.

“Natalie,” Blake called out, and this time he increased his pace.

He was going to catch her, she realized. The rest of her flight to the bathroom was more of a mad dash, and out of instinct, she locked the door behind her.

The knob rattled. “Natalie! Dammit, don’t lock me out.”

She’d never done anything like this before, and her eyes were glued to the doorknob. Off in the distance she could hear him pounding on it, pleading with her to let him in. Touchdown was barking like background music to Blake’s pleas.

The freedom of doing something so bold rolled through her. She
could
lock him out. She could lock everything out.

Opening up the cabinet under the sink, she dug out the tile cleaner and a sponge. The etched panels of their Italian marble shower suite sparkled from the cleaning she’d given them yesterday, but she shook the tile powder on them anyway and scrubbed until her hands burned. Her body warmed from the brutal cleaning, and it felt good. Cleaning was the only thing that made her feel warm
and
numb—a combination she loved. It was her new favorite home.