“Not so fast. Either I haul your ass in right now. Call your probation officer. Make it clear you were in the vicinity of The Worley Inn. Or you do one thing for me. Do we have a deal?”
Matty thought of what would happen if he didn’t agree to do whatever it was Spoley had in mind. No more community service at the animal shelter. He loved those damn dogs with their hopeful eyes and pathetic wagging tails. He wouldn’t be able to help Mamacita. What if she fell again? She’d call and no one would come. His fledgling relationship or whatever it was with Jasmine would be snatched away before it ever got started. His budding friendship with Trey, the chance to earn some money, so maybe, if he ever got up the nerve, he could ask Jasmine out on a real date—maybe Trey would even let him borrow his Cayenne—all of that would be lost to him forever. His dad would probably give up on him for good. No one would come to visit him in prison. He’d lose the possibility of everything. All because months ago he’d done one stupid thing wrong and been dumb enough to get caught. Now an asshole like Spoley had power over him.
Never again, he vowed to himself. He’d do this one thing, whatever it was, no matter how revolting it might be, and then he’d wise up. He’d figure out a way to stop breaking his curfew. Maybe tell his dad and Baylee and Lisa and Jack Frost the truth. Maybe he could spend whole nights at Mamacita’s house with their permission. Ride his bike home in the morning. Finish up his community service and get off probation for good. Stop cutting class when school started again in the fall. Never do anything dumb for the rest of his life. Never have to kowtow to a jerk like Spoley.
“Deal.”
Baylee startled awake when her cell phone rang. She glanced around the deserted emergency room waiting area. According to the clock over the automatic sliding exit doors, it was three forty-eight a.m. She stared at her phone for a moment before depressing the answer key. “Hello.” Her voice was barely audible even to her own ears.
“Baylee?”
Why would Trey call at this hour? “Yes.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m in the hospital.”
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Baylee, I can hardly hear you. What’s going on?”
Baylee cleared her throat. “Hold on. I’m going outside.” She thought her voice was slightly stronger. She stepped out into the damp air of the predawn darkness. A sidewalk led around to the main hospital entrance. She followed it for a few feet until she was away from the glare of the lights in the emergency parking area.
“Okay. That’s better.” She heaved a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the oppressive waiting room.
“Are you at the hospital in Hendersonville?” Trey asked.
“Yes. It’s my dad.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. The cops think he got mugged or beat up or something. They think he was trying to walk home maybe and he was hit by a car.”
“Is he badly hurt?”
“I don’t think so, but I only saw him for a minute. They took him for X-rays and I don’t know what else. You know how long everything takes in an ER.”
“I’m on my way,” Trey informed her.
“No, please. You don’t have to. I’m fine.”
“Of course you are,” Trey agreed. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He disconnected. Baylee stared at her phone, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. A nugget of warmth took up residence in her heart. She hadn’t realized how alone she felt, how alone she always felt until Trey had come into her life. Since her mother’s death, she hadn’t had much in the way of a support system. Scott had hardly been a supportive spouse, although if she’d needed him, he’d have put in an appearance. She’d never been close to her father, and he now preferred the company of the bottle over anyone else’s. Lisa worked like a dog and was preoccupied with the twins. She had little left over to give anyone else. Even though Baylee and Jenny were best friends, Jenny’s priorities were Ryan and Seth.
Trey didn’t ask if she wanted him here. He’d simply informed her he would be there. Where have you been all my life? she wanted to ask him.
She hovered outside the emergency room entrance to wait for Trey so she’d be visible if any of the hospital personnel came looking for her. Tendrils of warmth spread from the soft spot in her heart as she anticipated his arrival. His presence alone would be a comfort. He didn’t have to do anything or say anything. She could lean on him.
But for how long?
She always came back to that question. How long before he grew tired of her? Or bored? Surely it wouldn’t be long before he went after someone more his type. He wouldn’t want to be with her indefinitely.
Would he?
Fairy tales, she warned herself. She wanted a fairy tale. But surely even Prince Charming couldn’t live up to his princess’s expectations forever.
Her thoughts didn’t keep her heart from lifting when she saw the headlights of Trey’s Cayenne sweep across the parking area. He parked and came toward her dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She wanted to run to him and leap into his arms. He’d swing her around in a dizzying circle because he was so overjoyed to see her.
These stupid fantasies had to stop.
Her heart did a weird flip-floppy thing right before Trey gathered her in his arms. His lips grazed the top of her head and every ounce of tension seeped out of her. She clung to him and let him hold her. She had no idea how long they stood together. At some point he brushed his fingers through her hair and whispered, “It’s okay.” A little while later she let go of him.
In the waiting room he took the seat next to hers. “How long have you been here?”
“A couple of hours.” Baylee smothered a yawn behind her hand. “I might be late for work.”
“Good thing you have an in with the boss.”
“By the way, why were you calling me at four a.m.?”
Trey ducked his head, which put Baylee in mind of a little boy caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t. “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I started thinking about you and all the times you’ve cooked me breakfast, and I thought maybe you’d like to meet me this morning here in town and I’d buy you breakfast for a change. I didn’t think you’d have your phone on. I didn’t want to wake you up. I was going to leave a message.”
“Oh.” Baylee got stuck on I started thinking about you and barely heard the rest of his explanation.
Trey stood. “I’m going to see if I can find out what’s going on.” He approached the nurses’ station. Baylee watched him use what she’d come to think of as the Trey Christopher charm on the thirty-something nurse seated at the desk behind the glass window.
How lovely to let someone take over. She couldn’t hear exactly what Trey said to the nurse, but she could tell by the woman’s body language he’d found a soft spot. Baylee watched her pick up a phone. Trey leaned forward, propping his arms on the counter. Baylee would bet a hundred bucks he was offering one of those endearing grins to the nurse.
She spoke into the phone briefly before hanging up and returning her attention to Trey. Whatever she told him appeared to satisfy him. After a few more minutes of conversation, Trey sauntered back to his seat.
“Your dad’s got a broken arm and a concussion. It sounds like he’s pretty banged up otherwise as well. They want to keep him overnight. The doctor will be out to talk to you in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.”
“Has this happened before?”
“Not this bad. He’s had disagreements with some of the guys who frequent the tavern. No one’s beat him up, though. Usually, he finds his way home or sometimes Buzz drops him off.”
“Buzz?”
“Buzz owns the tavern. He and Dad were in school together.”
“Ah. How long has he been drinking?”
“Always. As long as I can remember. It got worse after my mom died. When Matty started getting into trouble, it’s like Dad
gave up. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone anymore.”
“He’s an alcoholic. An addict. He needs help.”
Baylee made a sound Trey couldn’t decipher. “He won’t get it.”
“He will if you don’t give him a choice.”
“How would that work, exactly? I’m in no position to issue ultimatums. I live in his house rent-free. Besides, he’s never been interested in me or in my opinion about anything. If I tell him he has to get help for his drinking, he’ll laugh in my face or ignore me more likely.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
Baylee stared at Trey. “You don’t even know him. What makes you think he’d listen to you?”
“I’ve been there,” he said simply.
“Oh.” Trey rarely alluded to his past issues with drugs and alcohol or his stint in a rehab clinic. Much of what she knew about his recovery was what she gleaned from watching his behavior and what she shouldn’t have read in his journals. Still, she doubted he could get her father to agree to seek help for his problem.
At the same time she wondered what her father might be like when he wasn’t under the influence. His relationships had all been distorted by his view through a bottle.
A youngish-looking man in green scrubs arrived in the waiting room a few minutes later. He introduced himself as Dr. Barber. He reiterated what the nurse had told Trey before he fixed his gaze on Baylee. “Miss Westring, your father has a severe alcohol addiction. He’s a prime candidate for treatment.”
Before Baylee could respond, Trey covered her hand with his and said, “We’re aware.”
“He can be transferred directly to a treatment facility when he’s released tomorrow, but it has to be voluntary.”
Again, Trey replied. “We’ll talk to him.”
Dr. Barber’s glance moved from Trey to Baylee and back before he rose. “Very well. Mr. Westring is resting. He’ll be released late tomorrow morning, so you’ll need to speak with him first thing.”
“We’ll take care of it.” Trey stood and so did Baylee. They shook hands with the doctor and thanked him. When he left, they were alone together.
“Let’s get out of here.” Trey steered her toward the exit and in the direction of his Cayenne.
“Wait. I have my car here.”
“It will still be here when we come back to see your dad in a few hours. Until then, you can come home with me and get a couple hours’ sleep.”
Baylee didn’t resist. She was, she realized, tired of being alone. If she was in Trey’s bed, she doubted she’d get any sleep. Even though she was drooping with exhaustion, she wasn’t sure sleep was what she needed or wanted.
By the time they reached the house, Baylee had changed her mind. She kicked off her shoes and jeans and crawled into Trey’s bed. She didn’t wait for him to join her. In seconds she was asleep.
Trey congratulated himself as he got into bed twenty minutes later. Baylee was asleep, as he’d hoped she’d be. His plan had worked. Although it was unlikely he’d get any more sleep before they had to be back at the hospital, he was willing to give it a try.
Two hours later the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him beeped softly. Trey turned it off quickly. Baylee didn’t move a muscle. She was still curled on her side as she’d been before. He stretched a little, then slid out of the bed and headed for the kitchen.
When he returned to the bedroom, he sat on her side of the bed and gently pushed a few tendrils of hair behind her ear. He bent and whispered, “I brought you coffee.” He nuzzled her, breathing in the scent of her, reluctant to move away.
She made a murmur of reluctance and pushed at him half-heartedly.
He kissed her neck. “It’s seven thirty,” he informed her before nibbling his way back to her ear. “If you get up now, I’ll make you toast too.”
An intense wave of desire shot through him. Was it desire or lust? Maybe they were the same. Even when he was trying to be practical and in control and not give in to every base instinct Baylee aroused in him, he wanted to fuck her, own her, possess her. This morning, knowing she’d had about two hours of sleep all night, that she was upset about her father and nervous about confronting him this morning, Trey wanted to undress her the rest of the way and bury himself inside her.
He commanded himself to remove his lips from her skin and sit up. Breathe, he warned himself. Get a grip. Think about her instead of yourself for a change.
She gave him a soft, sleepy look. She was rumpled and gorgeous. “That’s a nice way to wake up,” she said. “If I skip the toast, do we have time for sex?”
No wonder he was in love with her. The thought flitted through his mind when she reached for him at the same moment he came down on top of her. As unlikely as it may have seemed at one time, Baylee Westring was exactly what he needed. Wanted. Was fast realizing he couldn’t live without.
He dispensed with her T-shirt and bra in seconds, mesmerized as he always was by the silky feel of her skin, her scent, her sensitive nipples. He wanted to take his time, explore, arouse, but she drove him crazy. Only when he encountered the dampness of her panties did he slow. He drew them down and off and gently parted her legs. This particular part of her fascinated him. There was something about the way she had responded to him from the very beginning that intrigued him. Maybe it was because she’d waited for him and he’d been her first.
He loved touching her with his fingers, sliding back and forth against her slick wetness, watching her facial reactions, her eyes closed to slits as she watched him before he took her over the top with his tongue.
He buried himself thickly, deeply inside her. She groaned in delight as he rolled to his back.
She liked to move at a slow, sensual pace which drove him even more insane with need. He did his best to be patient, because he liked watching her move while he caressed her thighs, her breasts, her belly. When he could stand it no more, he rolled with her so she was beneath him, her knees high and tight against him while he slammed into her. Faster, harder, higher he drove into her until he couldn’t hold out any longer. His exclamation of triumph sounded foreign even to his own ears. He collapsed on top of Baylee, who was panting beneath him. She held on to him tightly with her arms and legs wrapped around him. She kissed his shoulder, his neck, wherever she could reach between breaths.
Trey didn’t know what was happening to him. He couldn’t recall ever having this overwhelming sense of need for another person. The self-control he’d worked to achieve and maintain deserted him when he was with her. He wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“I’ll go in and talk to him,” Trey said two hours later as they rode to the third floor in the hospital elevator.
“I don’t know, Trey. You don’t even know him.”
The elevator dinged when it reached the third floor. Trey allowed Baylee to precede him out of the car. The doors slid closed with a swoosh behind them. The nurse’s station was positioned directly across from them with a deserted waiting area nearby. Trey maneuvered her to the waiting area, out of earshot of the nurses at the desk, who hadn’t even acknowledged their presence.
“Do you want your father to get help for his alcoholism?”
Baylee lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“How’s your relationship with him? Does he listen to you? Pay any attention to what you need? To what’s important to you?”
Baylee’s chin wobbled. “No.”
“Oh, baby.” Trey gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair. This is what it’s like, she thought, to have someone to lean on. This is what it’s like to not have to do everything alone.
“Come here,” he said. He walked her to a row of chairs set up along the wall.
“I’ve been where your dad is,” Trey informed her. “I know what he’s thinking. He’ll offer you ten excuses why he doesn’t need treatment. If that doesn’t work, he’ll put a guilt trip on you. He’ll get mad and try to make you feel bad and make you think his drinking is your fault.
“I know eve
ry trick, because I used them all, until somebody I had no connection with, who wouldn’t put up with my bullshit, forced me to get help. Let me talk to him.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, Trey tapped on Dan Westring’s hospital room door and opened it. Baylee’s father was awake and looking belligerent. The remnants of his breakfast sat on a rolling tray table and had been pushed to the far side of the bed. He wore a hospital gown, and his left arm was encased in a foam brace and held over his chest by a sling. His face showed the damage he’d suffered from whatever had occurred last night. He had a black eye, a split lip and a cut above his left eyebrow.
He watched Trey’s approach with apprehension. “Who are you?”
“Trey Christopher.” He reached out a hand and Dan begrudgingly shook it and introduced himself.
“I’m a friend of your daughter’s,” Trey said. “Baylee,” he added so there was no confusion.
“Yeah. Okay. Where is she? I thought she’d come to pick me up.”
“She’s here. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“About what?”
“Treatment for your alcoholism.”
Dan snorted. “So I like a few drinks now and then. I’m not an alcoholic.”
“Bullshit,” Trey said calmly. Dan glared at him. “Want to know how I know it’s bullshit? Because I’ve been where you are. Trying to deny it, trying to convince everyone I didn’t have a problem and most importantly trying to convince myself. It won’t work. If you want me to get you a mirror you can take a good hard look at yourself and see what you’re doing and what you’ve done not only to yourself, but to your family and anyone else who gives a damn about you. But I don’t think I need to. You don’t like yourself much right now. You probably haven’t for a long time. But that’s neither here nor there. You’ve got a family. I’m going to assume they love you and want what’s best for you, even though the only one I know for sure feels that way is Baylee.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve—”
“You better believe it. I’ve also got two Super Bowl rings, and believe me when I tell you my nerve’s got more value right now than they do. I don’t care about much of anything except how what you do affects Baylee. You’ve spent the last few years making her feel badly about herself, making her feel unimportant and lately causing her to worry about you. It stops today, or I swear to God I’ll encourage her to stay away from you because you’re like poison to her and everyone else when you’re drinking.
The First Time Again: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 3 Page 20