by Ella Frank
So, Henri stood there. Silent and steady, the rock in the center of someone else’s storm, the promise of stability for once in his life. And as Bailey fell apart in his arms, Henri was right there to catch him.
Chapter Ten
CONFESSION
He’s wonderful.
My kind of wonderful.
BAILEY SPLASHED A handful of cold water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror of the washroom. He looked like hell. There was no other word for it.
With red-rimmed eyes above bags heavier than the ones he’d taken on his last vacation, there was nothing attractive or appealing about the man staring back at him. And as Bailey thought about Henri, who was standing out in his kitchen waiting, he did a quick scan of the small space to see if there was a window he could climb out of so he wouldn’t have to show his face again this morning.
Unfortunately, there was nothing.
God, what must he think of me? Crying all over him like some kind of basket case. I should’ve just gone home and crawled into bed.
But when a soft knock on the bathroom door sounded and Henri said, “You okay in there?” Bailey’s panic instantly faded, and he knew exactly why he had come there.
Bracing his hands on the sink, he took in a deep breath and let it out, then he turned and opened the door to find Henri putting two full plates on the counter in front of the barstools.
As Bailey emerged and shut the door behind him, Henri straightened and pointed to the food.
“I thought you might be ready to eat something now. If you’re not, that’s okay—”
“I am,” Bailey said, grateful for something normal to talk about. But as he crossed over to the place he’d just had one of the most humiliating moments of his life in, he gestured to the plate and said, “But do you mind if we eat at the table or—”
“I have the perfect spot.” Henri quickly grabbed up the plates and forks, and then winked. “Follow me.”
Bailey was close to positive he would’ve followed Henri to the end of the earth right then. Henri brushed by him and headed toward a glass and steel staircase whose steps were the same colored hardwood as the loft’s floor.
Henri’s place was incredible, and though Bailey wished he were there under different circumstances, at least he was finally cognizant enough to appreciate it.
As they went up the first flight of steps and turned to go up the second, Bailey looked back down to the open living area.
There was one recliner and couch facing an empty bookcase that housed the TV. An industrial-looking stainless steel dining table fit in with the small but modern kitchen, and directly off to the right of the entrance was what looked to be an office area—maybe where Henri did some of his investigative work from.
The space fit him well, from the indestructible metal throughout the bones of the place, to the scuffed-up but sturdy hardwood floors that felt sure and steady beneath your feet.
Bailey imagined the loft to be just like the man who lived there. A little cool at first glance, until you delved deeper. But when you finally got to see the strength and resilience beyond the steel walls, the revelation was incredible.
“This work for you?”
Bailey turned in Henri’s direction. The second level of the loft was a long, narrow stretch of hardwood floor, with two doors to the bedrooms. But what had Bailey’s mouth falling open were the bifold doors that opened up to a private roof deck.
Bailey walked past Henri and toward the doors, and when he stopped at the center of them, he stared out at the Chicago skyline and took a deep, calming breath. The view was surprising, and spectacular, much like the man who lived there.
Henri walked by him, balancing the two plates in one hand, and flicked open the lock. Then, with a slight shove of his fingers, the doors slid back and folded up on themselves, opening the space up and letting in the cool morning air.
“Well, come on, then. These omelets aren’t gonna eat themselves.” Henri walked out on the deck and headed toward the far end, where he had a small outdoor patio set with a round fire pit at the center of it. The space was perfect, cozy, and Bailey could imagine sitting by it with Henri at night.
As Henri took a spot on the double-seater, Bailey went to move into one of the singles, but Henri cleared his throat and said, “Uh-ah, officer. Your spot’s over here.”
Still feeling a little raw, and somewhat exposed from his earlier breakdown, Bailey hesitated but then moved to sit next to Henri, and instantly relaxed.
Henri handed him one of the plates and a fork, and then settled back in the seat to cut into his food. Bailey wondered if Henri expected him to talk. But he merely nodded at the plate, and Bailey got the impression Henri was more concerned with him eating a meal than having a conversation. So, Bailey settled back beside him, piled his fork high, and dug in.
As the warm, fluffy eggs hit his taste buds, Bailey groaned almost as loud as his stomach did, and when he shut his eyes and swallowed the mouthful, his appetite kicked into high gear.
Like a starving man, he all but inhaled his meal and licked his plate clean after that, and once he was done and his hunger satisfied, Bailey glanced over his shoulder to find Henri watching him with half his omelet still on his plate.
“Good?” Henri asked, and when Bailey nodded, a smile slowly crossed Henri’s lips, which made all of the shit Bailey had gone through over the past twelve hours fade into the background. “Do you want more?”
Bailey eyed Henri’s plate. “Are you offering to give me the rest of your breakfast?”
“I’m offering you anything you need to get to the other side of this in one piece.”
Bailey’s stomach flipped at the sincerity of Henri’s words. But it was the look in his eyes that had Bailey’s heart close to bursting.
Bailey had been waiting for someone to look at him like that his entire adult life. Henri was looking at him as though he’d move heaven and earth if it would make Bailey feel better. As though he would do anything in his power to ease Bailey’s troubles.
Bailey put his plate down and shifted back in his seat beside Henri. When Henri realized what Bailey was doing, he put his plate on the table and raised an arm. Then, as though they’d done this every day of their lives, Bailey snuggled into Henri’s side and placed a hand on his chest. “Thank you.”
Henri’s hand tightened on Bailey’s bicep. “For what? Making you breakfast?”
“For opening your front door this morning, even though I said I wasn’t coming. For not asking all the questions I know you probably want to ask.” Bailey angled his head up and found Henri’s eyes. “For giving me a moment of normal when I feel anything but.”
Henri shrugged. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that. But I am a little concerned that you think I’m normal. We might need to look into that a little closer.”
Bailey’s lips twitched, and for the first time since last night, he felt the pressure on his chest ease a little. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like, real close. For an extended amount of time, if need be,” Henri said, then lowered his head and brushed his lips over Bailey’s.
At the gentle touch, Bailey sighed and curled his fingers around Henri’s shirt. But before things could get out of hand, Henri raised his head, and Bailey licked at his lips, immediately missing the contact.
Today had been a whirlwind of a day, one that Bailey was still processing and trying to navigate his way through. But as he lowered his head to rest his cheek back on Henri’s shoulder, all he could think about was how right it felt to be there.
“Don’t ever apologize for showing up here, okay?” Henri said a couple of minutes later. “I’m glad that you did. And if you want to stay today, tomorrow, however long you need—then you stay. I told you before. My problem isn’t being around you, Bailey. It’s leaving you that now seems…unimaginable.”
IF HENRI NEVER moved from this spot, he just might die happy. It was a strange thought, given the man in his arms was dealing with
a horrible tragedy. But Henri had never been more centered, more grounded in his life, and that was because he’d gone and done the unthinkable—he’d fallen in love.
Somewhere between his intercom buzzing this morning and Bailey trusting him during one of the most difficult moments of his life, Henri had fallen head over ass for the shy, sexy police officer.
The problem was that this was not the right time. The last thing Bailey needed was for Henri to start pouring his heart out and putting him on the spot, making him feel obligated to reciprocate. That wasn’t how Henri wanted that conversation to go. In fact, he had no idea how he would even start a conversation like that. All he knew was this was not the right time.
Henri looked down to see Bailey’s eyes were now closed, and as he took in the thick lashes against his pale skin, he wondered how many hours Bailey had been awake.
“Hey there, officer,” Henri whispered by Bailey’s ear. “Why don’t you come to bed? You must be exhausted.”
Bailey blinked once, twice, looked up with bleary eyes, and nodded. Henri offered him a half-smile and removed his arm so they could get to their feet.
After gathering up the plates, Henri led Bailey inside and put them on a table that was in the narrow hall on the upper floor. He shut the bifolds, and then turned to find Bailey standing with his hands in his jeans pockets, watching him.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know which room you wanted me in.”
Henri took Bailey’s face between both hands, then lowered his head and said against Bailey’s lips, “My room.” Then he stepped back, took Bailey’s hand, and led him to the far end of the hall.
“This is the room I want you in,” Henri said. “The room I’ve wanted you in from the first time I met you.”
As Bailey stepped inside the master bedroom, Henri soaked in the sight of his cop finally standing there. The room was fairly sparse, the exposed brick walls an artistic feature that was unique but didn’t allow much in the way of putting up personal items. Not that he had any. He didn’t have photographs of friends and family, nor did he have heirlooms passed down and placed around his home like Bailey did.
Instead, Henri had a comfortable king-sized bed on the diagonal between each window of the wall and sheer curtains that let in the sun or moonlight, depending on the time of day.
Right now, the room was awash in light, and knowing that was likely going to make things difficult for Bailey to sleep, Henri said, “Sorry I don’t have the kind of curtains that’ll give you a really good sleep. But the bed’s comfortable.”
Bailey pivoted, and when his eyes found Henri’s, something in them made Henri’s pulse skip. Those baby blues were swimming with emotions that Henri wanted to dive inside of and never leave. Bailey reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, and Henri found it difficult to swallow.
Bailey tossed it over the end of the bed and reached out a hand. Henri took it. As their fingers interlaced, Bailey took the final step needed so they were toe to toe. “Are you going to stay?”
Wild horses couldn’t have dragged Henri away then, but just in case that wasn’t clear, he brought Bailey’s hand up to his mouth and kissed his palm. “Yes.”
“Then I’m going to sleep better than I would if I was anywhere else.”
Henri didn’t know what to say to that. So, he let Bailey go and drew his own shirt off, and almost swallowed his tongue when Bailey removed his jeans.
“Is this okay?” Bailey asked, when he noticed Henri had frozen in place. “I can put them back on—”
“Bailey. It’s more than okay. I’m just trying to remind myself to behave, that’s all.”
That shy smile of Bailey’s, the one that Henri had been worried had fallen victim to the harsh reality of what happened today, emerged, and Henri sent up a quick prayer of thanks that it wasn’t gone for good.
“But just for today, right?”
Henri blinked. “Huh?”
Bailey walked around the side of Henri’s bed in his tight grey boxer briefs. “You’re not always going to behave, are you?”
Henri moved to the opposite side of the bed, and as they pulled the covers back and climbed in, he tugged Bailey into his arms and kissed him. “What do you think?”
Bailey aligned his body to Henri’s side and took a deep breath in, then he let it out and said, “I think you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”
Henri looked down at him and arched an eyebrow. “That wasn’t the question.”
“I know. But we both know the other answer. I just wanted to make sure you knew this too.”
Bailey reached up for a kiss, and as he settled back in the crook of Henri’s arm and whispered, “Good night, Henri,” Henri stared up at the light shining in over the bed and wondered just how long the feeling of such contentment could last.
Chapter Eleven
CONFESSION
If I’m going to trust my feelings, I need to know where he stands.
THE FITFUL MOVEMENTS from the legs entwined with Bailey’s woke him a couple hours later. It was subtle at first, a slight jerk here, a kick there, but as the minutes passed, Henri began to twitch consistently, and the arms around Bailey shuddered.
Bailey gently shifted to look up at Henri, wondering if he would wake from whatever dream he’d slipped into. But when he noticed the tight line of Henri’s lips and clenched jaw, Bailey got the impression he was still deep in it.
This wasn’t the first time he’d woken to find Henri amidst a restless sleep. In fact, the only other time he’d caught Henri sleeping he’d had a similar experience, and Bailey couldn’t help but worry.
Bailey raised a hand, about to try to gently shake him awake, when Henri’s head turned away from him and he spat out, “That’s some bullshit, Joel, and you know it.”
Bailey froze his hand where it was hovering just above Henri’s chest, and his stomach twisted around on itself as a rush of uncertainty flooded him.
What does that mean? Bailey thought. He’s dreaming about Priest?
Bailey tried not to read too much into that, especially with how kind and caring Henri had been with him this morning. But no matter how much he told himself it was nothing, Bailey couldn’t stop the niggling doubt in the back of his mind: that no matter how close the two of them got, Henri might always be hung up on—
“I told you to get on your fucking feet.”
Bailey jerked back as that biting order interrupted his thoughts. He could feel the rage rolling off Henri in waves, and it was so potent that Bailey was shocked it didn’t blast him from the bed.
Henri twisted onto his side, and Bailey spotted beads of sweat on his brow and noticed his breathing was now coming in rapid pants. Then, just as Bailey decided enough was enough, Henri opened his mouth and said in a bone-chilling voice, “You’re lying…”
The hair on the back of Bailey’s neck rose at the pain and disbelief in those two words. It was haunting. He reached out and stroked his fingers down Henri’s pale cheek, doing his best to comfort and rouse Henri from whatever hell he was trapped inside.
The second Bailey made contact, those dark eyes of Henri’s opened, and where he’d last seen compassion and kindness looking back at him, Bailey now saw fear and loathing.
The stark coldness in that usually hot gaze was shocking. While Bailey knew it wasn’t for him, the empty flatness of that expression told him that it was intended for someone who had hurt Henri deeply.
Priest? No… Bailey couldn’t imagine Priest causing this level of damage. As the daze of sleep seemed to lift from Henri and he realized where he was, he cursed and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he removed his hand. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“That’s okay. I got a few hours in.”
Henri let out a sigh and rolled to his back, draping his arm across his eyes. “I should’ve slept in another room.”
“No.” Bailey scooted over until
he was back against Henri’s side. “I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep if you’d done that.”
Henri turned his dark head on the pillow, and this time when their eyes connected, the flat expression from seconds ago had been replaced with the warmth Bailey was used to.
“Still, you need the sleep.”
Bailey searched Henri’s handsome features as the two of them lay there face to face, and decided that instead of focusing on his mess of a life for now, he would rather focus on what had just happened here with Henri.
“So do you, from what I’ve seen. Those dreams you have…” Bailey chewed at his lower lip for a second, wondering if he was getting too personal here, if Henri would shut him down. But after everything that had happened between them this morning, he decided it was worth a shot if it meant the two of them getting closer. “Do you have them often?”
Henri studied Bailey closely for what felt like an eternity. “Not usually.”
Bailey frowned. That was an odd answer, and when Henri seemed to realize that, he added, “I mean, they just started…recently.”
“Because of Priest?” The words were out of Bailey’s mouth before he knew it. But as they lingered in the bed between him and Henri, he didn’t regret them. Not today, when he was as open and vulnerable as he could possibly be. He wanted to know where he stood with Henri, wanted to know if he could trust what he was seeing and feeling.
“Priest?” Henri said, and when his brows drew down in a V, Bailey nodded and thought, It’s now or never.
“Yes. You said his name just now. So I thought maybe his wedding had, I don’t know, stirred some things up for you.” When Henri looked at him blankly, Bailey added, “I know that this is new, and I’m a total basket case right now… But I need to know. Am I competing with him? Are you still in love with Joel Priestley?”
HENRI WASN’T SURE what part disturbed him more. The fact that he’d been talking in his fucking sleep, or the fact that the man he’d just realized he’d fallen in love with now thought he was pining—and dreaming—about his ex.