Believing Bailey

by Linda Kage

  But I opened my doors, yearning and nearly desperate to see those springing blonde curls and those big gray eyes. I had this feeling she’d scold me when she saw me, mad because I’d taken off without saying goodbye, and I almost smiled at the image. Except smiling felt wrong too. Being around anything that brought me any kind of joy seemed inappropriate, so I veered away from her place instead of going toward it.

  I entered the quiet park across the street and sat gingerly on the first bench I came across, not sure what the hell I was going to do.

  Chapter 19

  BAILEY

  He’d vanished. The stupid boy had just up and disappeared on me when I’d been trying to take care of him.

  Who the hell did that?

  It pissed me off, but only because I refused to admit how much Beck’s disappearance worried the shit out of me, and kind of hurt my feeling too. He was in no position to be out on his own right now. How dare he skip out after the night we’d shared! And why would he leave me? Had I done something wrong?

  Dammit.

  What did he think he was doing anyway, taking off like that? He had nowhere to go!

  I drove around, looking for him for a while. But I didn’t really know anything about him, had no idea where he’d go. Cursing him up one side and down another, I returned home and paced my place. I hoped he’d return, like he’d only gone out to run an errand or something. But by the time all my roommates made it home, Beck still hadn’t showed up.

  Once more, I was unusually quiet and stressing out big time. I bypassed supper, which only prompted another visit to my room from Tess and Paige. I couldn’t quite look Paige in the eye. I wasn’t mad at her, but it felt weird to look at her, thinking she might worry about me creeping on her and Logan now. And Tess. I couldn’t tell Tess where I’d gone the night before or what I’d done. I always told her everything, never kept shit to myself.

  Why couldn’t I tell even Tess what was going on?

  Life had just gotten so fucked up. I didn’t know what was happening to me or anyone else.

  I hated that.

  Tess felt the need to tell Paige what we’d overheard the day before on campus—damn, had that only been yesterday—and Paige had gotten loyally offended on my behalf, but none of that seemed to matter.

  I wanted to know where Beck was. I needed to know. How dare that bastard just up and disappear without even telling me he was leaving or where he was going? Didn’t he realize he was my responsibility now?

  Idiot!

  My friends talked around me for a good hour and didn’t seem to notice how distracted I was. They thought they had all my problems figured out. They said I should just ignore all the nasty gossip about me and carry on as usual; it would die down soon enough.

  Sure, sounded good to me. Whatever. I nodded and agreed in order to make them happy. God, I was such a shitty friend.

  Honestly, I didn’t know how to talk about this. I didn’t know how to explain Beck or the protective need I felt to take care of him. How could I tell them something I didn’t understand myself?

  Wanting him here so I could keep watch over him felt like an obsession, and obsessions were bad. If they knew how bad off I’d become, they’d try to intervene and stop me. I couldn’t stop. I had to worry about him. I had to find him. I had to fix him.

  “Fucking bastard,” I muttered hours later after Tess and Paige had left, and they’d all gone to bed. I was the only one left in my apartment wide-awake and unable to sleep, pacing my room and wondering where the hell he was staying tonight. “Doesn’t he even care what he’s doing to me?” I demanded aloud.

  Obviously, he didn’t. Frustrated beyond all get-out, I yanked open the curtains to my window, needing a change of scenery before I drove myself crazy.

  “Where are you, you stupid bucket-head?” I muttered, plunking my forehead against the pane glass as I stared sightlessly down at the park across the street.

  A loneliness crept into my veins, and suddenly I wasn’t sure if I was so upset because I was really all that worried about his welfare or because I felt abandoned.

  But that last part was just stupid.

  How could I miss him enough to feel abandoned? I didn’t even know him. I just needed to cut this shit out and get over him already.

  Except the ache in my chest wasn’t listening to the rational reasoning part of my brain, and it could only remember the way he’d so trustingly curled into me and clung to me, needing me, relying on me to see him through. And the stupid little ache missed those precious moments.

  I felt as sad at that guy sitting out there on the never-used park bench all by himself with the streetlamp spraying down on him and showing off how solitary and alone he looked. Wondering what had put that dude in such a funk, I studied him until my eyes started to squint, realizing how familiar his silhouette seemed. And then I was gasping as my mouth fell open because I realized I knew that silhouette with the ball cap on his head and his hoodie’s hood hanging down his back.

  “Oh, that turd!” I growled, fisting my hands down at my sides before spinning for the door and racing from my room. I didn’t bother with shoes or a coat or stocking cap, or anything. I was too mad, and relieved, and ecstatic to see him again.

  Ground moisture instantly soaked through my socks as I stepped outside. The cold blew right into my lungs, but I barely felt that either. Darting down the sidewalk and across the street, I scowled at him until I was only a couple feet away.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  He lifted his head, and I faltered my lecture because he looked so gosh-darn defeated.

  I ground my teeth, determined to give him a piece of my mind, anyway. “You had me worried sick. Do you even know what I went through, looking for you and wondering what had happened to you?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said with a heartfelt simplicity.

  I opened my mouth, wanting to rage and lecture more, but dammit, why did he have to look so much like a kicked puppy? “Oh, just shut up. Let’s get inside before we both freaking freeze to death.”

  Except the stupid, idiot boy shook his head. “No. You’ve already done so much for me. Too much. I can’t. I’ll never be able to repay you. I don’t want…I can’t…”

  I blew out a frustrated breath and shook my head sadly. He reminded me of myself, a little too proud to accept help and awkward about thanking people. But right now, it wasn’t working for me.

  “Then why are you sitting outside my apartment like a lost little kitten?”

  If anything, he looked even more lost than before. Glancing around the dark, empty park, he admitted, “I don’t know.”

  I groaned, “Well, can you not-know inside, where it’s warm? I’ve ruined my socks and forgot to grab my damn coat.” Taking his arm, I yanked him up into a stand and started to march back in the direction of home.

  He followed willingly for a couple feet, but then he resisted, saying, “Bailey.”

  I groaned and glared over my shoulder at him. “What?”

  He shook his head, seeming upset and regretful. “I never said thank you. For last night.”

  I sniffed and rolled my eyes. “Just save it. After the way you ditched out on me this morning without a goodbye or fuck-you, or anything, I don’t even want to hear how grateful you are.”

  “I am grateful,” he insisted softly. “I was just…Jesus,” he glanced around as if devastated. “You saved my life. Y-you’ve just done too much for me. How can I…how can I take more from you? I don’t want to use you like that.”

  “You’re not—” Realizing I wasn’t going to convince him he wasn’t using me, I groaned and cut myself off, trying a new track. “Fine. Pay me back, then. I don’t care. Just get your ass into gear, Hilliard. I’m cold.”

  He started to move, even as he asked, “But how am I supposed to pay you back? I don’t have anything anymore.”

  “I don’t know,” I answered distractedly as I opened the door and tugged him into the apartment. “We’ll fi
gure something out. Later.”

  I led him up the stairs and back to my room. Once I nudged him inside in front of me, I closed us alone in my room and turned on the light, ready to scold him some more, even as I ripped off my wet socks.

  But when he turned to look at me, my mouth fell open.

  “Oh my God, your face.” I pointed at him, trying to catch my breath. “What the hell happened? Half those bruises were not there this morning.”

  An amused smile came over him before he glanced down at his hands where there was a cut on his knuckles. “It was the strangest thing. I ran across the cowboy of all people at McDonalds when I was getting myself some lunch.” Smile stretching wider, he shrugged helplessly at me. “Apparently, this town just isn’t big enough for the two of us.”

  I blinked at him. “Seriously?” I finally asked. “You just accidently ran across him? You didn’t seek him out?”

  His eyes widened. “Why the fuck would I seek him out?”

  “I thought he was the reason you were kicked out of your fraternity. And you know, deep down, he has to be aware his sister’s lying. If he’d gone the justice route and stuck up for you instead of being stupidly loyal to her, you might not have been kicked out of school or the fraternity or—”

  Beck lifted his hands, stopping me mid-talk. “Trust me, I didn’t go on a revenge-seeking mission. I was perfectly content with never seeing him again.” With a wince, he shifted and clutched his side.

  “What’s wrong?” I demanded, approaching him. “Where does it hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted, though his face was pale and he couldn’t hide the pain from his eyes. “Just bruised, maybe cracked a few ribs.”

  “Let me see.” I reached out. He lifted his arm to block me, but I batted the annoying limb out of my way and yanked up his hoodie. Underneath was a white t-shirt, so I yanked that up too, only to gasp from the amount of bruises on his side.

  “They’re not all from today,” he insisted, as if that made any kind of difference. “Actually I don’t know if any of them are from today. I think all of them came from Melody’s boyfriend and my ex-fellow inmates. I was just kidding about them being cracked. I’m sure they’re only bruised.”

  I sucked in a wince. “Holy shit, Beckett. These look nasty. I was about to make a nest of blankets on the floor for you, but I can’t let you to sleep on the hard floor in this condition.”

  He pulled his shirt and hoodie down to cover the discolored skin. “Yes, you can. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

  “Whatever. Just get on the bed already,” I groused, pointing it out to him. He opened his mouth to argue, but I help up a hand. “We both slept there together last night, and no one died. It’ll be fine.”

  He frowned and closed his mouth, then took a deep breath before tipping his head and quietly asking, “Why are you doing all this for me?”

  I huffed out a laugh and shook my head. But he just kept watching me, waiting for a serious answer, so I sighed and admitted, “I have no idea. I don’t think I could explain it if I had to.”

  His eyes squinted slightly as he if were peering straight into my innermost feelings. Then he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said simply. His gaze slid toward the bed. I couldn’t tell from his expression if he was dreading getting on the mattress with me or if he was actually looking forward to a comfortable place to sleep.

  But then he turned back to me and pointed toward the bathroom. “That’s a bathroom, right? Do you mind if I…?”

  “Oh!” I have no idea why I was surprised by the notion, but I flushed and quickly nodded. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

  He murmured his thanks and disappeared behind the door. A few minutes later, I heard water running and then he re-emerged. He’d taken off his shoes and shed his hoodie. He looked thinner and more vulnerable in just the T-shirt. The need to go to him and wrap my arm around him, offering comfort, rose in me.

  I was afraid this guy might be turning me into a hugger. I’m not sure if I liked that or not.

  Ignoring the impulse, I moved away from him to grab a pair of pajamas and darted into the bathroom myself. I spent more time in there than I needed to, nervous about climbing under the covers with him.

  We’d done this the night before, but this time we’d both be cognizant and fully aware of what was happening. It suddenly made everything feel so much more intimate.

  Cursing myself for being such a weenie, I yanked open the door to find he’d already crawled under the covers. But he wasn’t asleep. He instantly sat upright, his bright blue eyes wide and worried as if he were scared shitless he’d done something wrong. The blankets fell down his chest, pooling around his waist, and I blinked over how spectacularly beautiful he was, even bruised and half-beaten to death.

  There was a gorgeous guy in my bed. How freaking bizarre was that?

  “Is this okay?” he asked uncertainly, poised as if ready to jump off the mattress if need be.

  I started to nod, but then felt funny about admitting just how okay I thought he looked in my sheets. Cheeks flushing, I said, “Can you move to the other side?” hoping the question would hide what I was really thinking.

  “Oh! Yeah, sure.” He hurried to scoot over. “I’m sorry, was I on your side?”

  I should’ve gone with that theory, yes, he’d taken my side, but instead, I stupidly admitted, “I have no idea. I’ve always slept in the middle.”

  When he glanced at me as if confused why I’d made him move, I cleared my throat and flushed even harder. “That side just looked better,” I mumbled.

  Yes, I was a moron.

  “Oh.” He still looked perplexed, but he said, “Okay,” and settled onto the new side without argument.

  I just stood there, watching, unable to move. Was I really supposed to just tiptoe over there now with my bare feet and oversized T-shirt and crawl into bed with him?

  Ugh, I guess so. After turning off the main light, I haltingly started forward, gaining Beckett’s attention. His lips parted and his shoulders rose half an inch as if he were drawing in a deep breath. His eyes followed me as I moved around to the side I’d just stolen from him and lifted the sheet enough to slide under the covers.

  I reached for the nightlight and clicked that off. Then I lay stiffly, staring through the dark up at the ceiling. Thirty seconds later, I frowned and shifted. Then I squirmed again. Okay, this wasn’t working.

  “Actually, can we change sides?”

  He huffed out a laugh but said, “Yep.”

  I hopped out of bed and raced around in the dark to the other side. When I heard Beckett shift back to his original spot, I crawled in with him again. Almost as soon as I sank into the cushion, I moaned. “Oh God, yes. This is definitely better.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” he murmured.

  His voice raced through me, making me shiver. Damn. Oh, damn. We’d just picked sides of the bed.

  I shifted around some more, getting comfortable even though this was all so awkward and new. For some reason, we both ended up on our sides facing each other, him resting his cheek against one pillow, me resting mine against another. Neither of us spoke as we just watched each other through the moonlight filtering through the window that I’d forgotten to draw the curtains closed to.

  Finally, he whispered, “Thank you, Bailey.”

  I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head. “I really don’t want a thank you.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  My eyes sprang open. I knew he wasn’t offering sexual favors, or anything like that, in exchange for room and board, and that’s not what I wanted from him, anyway.

  Well, not really.

  But a small, guilty, private part of me ached for something close to that.

  What did I want, he’d asked. What did I really want more than anything else on earth?

  I wanted some kind of connection to another human being, physical contact, emotional ties, a spiritual bond, anything. I knew I complained about what Tess and Paige had with the
ir guys. But that was only because deep down, I wanted what they had. I wanted to know I was capable of being loved. I wanted to feel I was sensual enough to turn a man on and get turned on myself by him. I wanted the whole nine yards of an ooey-gooey, gag-me relationship.

  As Beck Hilliard’s bright blue eyes bored into mine and his question echoed through my head, I could think of no other answer but that.

  I wanted to fall in love.

  But I couldn’t tell him that. He was too busy dealing with his life falling apart around him to worry about my stupid little malfunctions.

  So I sniffed and rolled my eyes. “I just want Melody Fairfield and her brother Chance to get what’s coming to them. I want the world to know—really know—how much of a big-fat liar she is. I want them to stop picking on you and realize how wrong they all were.”

  I wanted all the idiot sheep on campus to believe me when I said Beck was innocent.

  Beck chuckled softly. “Yeah. You and me both. Though if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I made him bleed today.”

  I gasped in pleasure. “Did you? That’s so awesome. Thank you.” Then I scowled as I pictured the cowboy. “I still can’t believe he spit on me.” Or more aptly, I couldn’t believe I’d spent a year pinning my silly hopes on such a jerk who would spit on girl.

  Oh well. I was done with that. Over it. (Not really. Being spit on stayed with you a while.) I was so moving on. (I still hated him. He’d hurt me big time.)

  Focusing on Beck, I sighed. I could even see some of his bruises in the dark. Poor guy. “I never told you how sorry I was about what your parents did to you. That really sucked.”

  “It’s fine.” He shrugged and lowered his gaze before looking up and meeting my eyes. “No, actually, it’s not fucking fine at all. I think the moment my mother shut the door in my face was the absolute worst moment of my life, even worse than when Melody called me a rapist.”

  With a nod, I whispered, “I bet. I can’t imagine what I’d do if my dad ever did that to me.”

  “We take them for granted, you know. Our parents. We assume they’ll always be there, always support us, always back us up. But honestly, they don’t have to. They don’t have to do any of that shit. Some of them come with a breaking point where they say enough is enough. It was a brutal lesson to learn I crossed that point.”