Bridgette gaped at him. “You’refifty?”
Garrett winked at her. “A question for a question, remember?”
“And nolies,”she said as she studied his face, obviously looking for signs of one.
“No lie,” he said. “By my clan’s reckoning, I’m just of marrying age. But see, I thought human hair turned silver only when you all got older, but you can’t be more than thirty.”
“Excuse you, I’m only twenty-three! My hair was blonde when I was a child, but it faded to this,” Bridgette said, setting her cup down on the table with a thump. “My turn.”
Garrett grinned slyly over the rim of his cup. “I never asked a question.”
Bridgette opened her mouth to argue before realizing he was right. “Oh, so we’re playing dirty then.”
Garrett chuckled before he asked, “How long have you worked for Monika?”
Bridgette’s scowl only deepened. She looked away as she said, “Seven years.”
Garrett did the math, and it was his turn to thump his cup down. “That’s barbaric.”
“Yeah, well. When your father sells you off to pay his gambling debts, you’re not left with much of a choice,” she muttered. “I paid off the debt I’d inherited working behind the scenes. When I turned eighteen, Monika gave me the choice to stay on as one of her entertainers. I had no money, no place to go. Monika offered me a room, two meals a day, and pay on top of that, so… I accepted.”
Garrett shook his head. “Eighteen is still just a child.”
“Says the fifty-year-old young adult,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
Garrett’s grin came out crooked. “Point taken.”
Bridgette sighed and leaned back in her chair. “But what Monikadoesn’ttell you is that your room and board is taken from your pay. You also have to get your own dresses and cosmetics, and she has standards for how we all present ourselves. She’s strict like that, though she’ll happily broker all that for afee,of course,” Bridgette said, anger coloring her voice. She let out a sigh before she scooped up her cup. “Makes it damnably hard to get out.”
“Would you?” Garrett asked. “Leave, I mean.”
Bridgette’s cup paused in front of her lips as she gave him a sad smile. “Question for a question, remember?” She took a long sip of her wine before she asked, “Why did you leave the high plains?”
Rogan’s bloodied face flashed behind his eyes, making Garrett’s breath snag in his chest. He’d known a question like this was coming, but he still felt sucker punched by it. Because in that moment, he realized that he’d gained something he was terrified of losing.
Her friendship.
What would she think of him if he told her? She was one of the few people in Frostcliff who didn’t see him as a beast, so what would happen when he proved her wrong? The thought of those eyes looking at him with fear was unbearable.
“Garrett?”
He blinked the memory away to see Bridgette’s concerned look. Shame flooded him. He didn’t deserve her kindness, her friendship. Not after what he’d done. She deserved to know the truth.
“I-I killed someone.”
He waited for the gasp, the horror, but it never came. Instead, Bridgette took a sip from her cup as she leaned back in her chair. “But did they deserve it?”
Garrett shook his head, the game momentarily forgotten. “No.” Bridgette seemed poised to ask something else, but Garrett gave her a pleading look. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”
Something like pity crossed her face. “Are you sure?”
Garrett retreated behind his mask, forcing a smile he didn’t feel. “A question for a question, remember?”
Bridgette looked a little disappointed but raised her cup in acquiescence. “Alright then. Your turn.”
Garrett drained the rest of his wine in one mouthful. He had so much he wanted to ask, but a weight had settled over the table. He kept it light as he said, “What’s your favorite color?”
Bridgette saw right through it, though. Her smile was sharp over her cup. “Ask arealquestion, Garrett.”
