Loving Bailey

by Lee Brazil

  Drew plunked down on the sofa next to Bailey and buried his face in his hands. "I never felt that way. I've always felt that you and your brother were worth it. I didn't mean to give you that impression."

  "Dad, come on." He felt awkward and unsure of what to say. How did this end up with him comforting his dad? "I didn't mean that you did. I just meant that things between me and Ashton aren't the same as they were with you and Mom. We love each other. We're not going to be together because social values and mores"—damn sociology class was coming in handy; he almost sounded like he knew what the fuck he was talking about—"dictate that we do the right thing. We're going to be together because it's what we both want."

  "What if this relationship doesn't last, Bailey? First love often doesn't last."

  Smiling wryly, Bailey slung an arm over his father's shoulders. "You're telling me? If you recall, Ashton is not my first love."

  "I don't want you hurt like that again, Bailey. And to be honest, the age thing isn't even what bothers me. He's a teacher at the school where you take classes."

  "Was," Bailey corrected gently. "I was a student at the school where he used to teach."

  "Semantics. The dynamic of power in the relationship is wrong. You were in his care, under his authority. He had no business being with you. There're probably all kinds of codes and bylaws against it."

  He shook his head, determined to disabuse his father on this point. "No, there aren't. I checked. While the college doesn't encourage relationships between students and teachers, they can't legally prevent them, unless the student is in the professor's class. I never took a class from Ashton. He's never been my advisor. There is no student-teacher relationship between us."

  "I just can't get around the fact that he had to have taken advantage of you."

  "No, sorry, Dad. Wrong again." His cheeks burned at what he was about to confess. "I was in a pretty bad place after what happened with Eden. You know I was going out, drinking, hooking up." He practically whispered the last of it, but Drew heard him.

  His lips pressed tight together, Drew nodded. "I remember. We were all worried about you."

  "Well, Ashton and I… He won't touch me."

  "You've never…"

  Blushing furiously, Bailey nodded. "He said, to be safe, we should wait until I graduated or he got a job somewhere else. Coincidentally, both those things happened at the same time. He starts in the fall at UCLA and I graduate in a week."

  "He seriously never…"

  "No, Dad. And not because I didn't try to get him to, either. Because it's who he is. Romantic, and honorable, and…" His voice trailed away. "I love him, Dad. And I'm moving in with him next weekend. I hope that doesn't change things between us, because I love you too."

  Drew heaved a deep sigh and ruffled Bailey's hair like he was still a little kid. "I'm hating seeing you boys grow up. In the long run, it's your choice and I'll stand behind you. I can't promise to love, or even like your boyfriend, but I will give him a chance."

  "That's all I ask, Dad." One more thing needed to be said, then he could go and apologize to Ashton. "I'm sorry. I really was just hoarding the way I felt about him and the time we spent together. I didn't intend to hide him from you or you from him."

  "I know you're a good man, Bailey. Bring him to dinner someday soon."

  Nodding, Bailey rose and stepped over his father's long legs. "I'm going to go over to see him. I'd say don't wait up, but I'm pretty sure he won't let me spend the night."

  His father snorted. "I'm not going to wait up. I really don't want to be aware of the moment your determination outstrips your boyfriend's will-power."

  Bailey was still laughing about that when he climbed behind the wheel of his new car. Previously he and his brother had shared a vehicle, but Bailey had finally managed to save up the money to purchase a car of his own. Having his own vehicle, paying for his own insurance and gas were all part of his plan to be independent. Moving out of his father's house without transportation was unthinkable.

  The 2007 Ford Fusion he'd purchased wasn't glamorous. The car was a practical low mileage vehicle in a standard transmission painted a deep blue. He'd paid cash for it and driven off the lot with an ear-to-ear grin on his face. His father had admired his choice, his brother had mocked him for downgrading from the sports car their father had bought for them to share.

  Bailey didn't care. He loved Lucy because she was his, and because Ashton had beamed with pride when he'd driven up to his boyfriend's house in her. They'd taken her out that very night for a drive down the highway and an impromptu picnic on the beach. Sitting on Lucy's hood, making out with Ashton as the sun set on the Pacific, he'd known beyond any doubt that this was the real thing.

  He steered the car to the curb in front of Ashton's tiny cottage, soon to be their home. The lights were out, not even the faint blue flicker of the television behind the natural fiber bamboo and jute shades that he'd helped Ashton install a month ago. He took a deep breath as he turned off the engine and exited the car. He owed Ashton an apology for his thoughtlessness.

  The odd quiet of the house in the noisy neighborhood gave him pause as he reached the door. He shook off his unease and knocked. Clinging to the memory of that gentle brush of lips over his forehead at the party earlier, he knocked again, louder, when there was no answer.

  "Ashton?" he called out, stepping aside to peer through the small gap the partially rolled shades left. The couch was empty, Ashton's stack of essays he'd never gotten back to grading last night still sat on the hardwood floor. Perhaps his boyfriend was in his bedroom or out in the tiny backyard?

  Stepping off the crushed shell walkway, Bailey listened to the crunching of dry grass underfoot as he made his way across the compact lawn to the five foot privacy fence and gate that blocked off the equally small back garden from the front yard. The gate wasn't locked and swung inward with a metallic rattle as the garden implements suspended from hooks on its interior side were jostled with the movement.

  He closed the gate behind him and cocked his head to listen to the tinkling wind chimes. Another weekend project; he and Ashton had created the wind chimes with driftwood and shells, and they hung on opposite eaves of the little cottage to catch the ocean breezes. The soothing ripple of an Asian inspired bamboo water fountain lured him deeper into the garden. It encouraged him to believe that his boyfriend was inside somewhere. The self-contained fountain required a small motor, and it wasn't like Ashton to leave the water feature on when he wasn't home.

  He followed the crushed shell path to the back door, noting dry grass and un-watered plants, the darkness of the single kitchen window. Growing worried by the conflicting information, he shut off the fountain with a remote control. Reaching into a tiny copper kettle, he retrieved the key to the back door.

  Knocking loudly once more, he called out, "Ashton? Ashton, it's me!"

  When there was still no answer, he unlocked the door and entered the tiny house.

  A few minutes inspection determined it was empty. Ashton wasn't in bed, he wasn't in the shower, and he wasn't in the minute kitchen or the living room.

  He wasn't home. Bailey sank onto the couch and sent text messages to his father, Eden, and his brother letting them know that he would be late. He turned on the television and selected a documentary on arctic wildlife to watch while he waited for Ashton to return from wherever he'd gone.

  As time passed and one show melded into another, he grew more and more worried. By nine he'd texted Ashton twice without answer. By ten he'd discarded his intent not to appear controlling and possessive and called twice.

  By midnight his concern had turned to anger and his imagination was out of control.

  At one, he locked the house carefully behind him and drove home with the exaggerated care of someone who didn't dare let his emotions control his actions. He nearly woke Eden or his dad to talk, but instead, shuffled off to bed, torn between a variety of emotions. Anger at Ashton, worry for his boyfriend's safety, hurt
that he was being shut out and ignored.

  Chapter Five

  "I fucked up," Ashton croaked out as he let himself in his front door. His head pounded; his body ached from sleeping cramped up on a tiny couch in the lounge area of Arlo's boat. His heart was a little battered, but he'd awakened more secure and emotionally at ease than he'd been when he passed out.

  He'd crept off Arlo's boat, suppressing nausea all the while, and walked back to the bar to find his car in the lot. He intended to shower, grab a coffee, and head to Bailey's house to apologize. His phone had reproached him with text messages and voicemails all the way over from the harbor. Guilt over his thoughtlessness had replaced all his boundless doubts about Bailey. Arriving at his cottage, their cottage, to find Lucy parked out front had altered his plans just a little.

  "It's okay, honestly." Bailey entered the living room from the kitchen, and he looked like he hadn't slept at all. "I was worried."

  "I'm sorry." Ashton pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them in a pewter bowl on a small oak table that served as a catch-all near the door. He automatically emptied his pockets and filled the bowl with wallet, car keys, Chapstick, and change. "Do I smell coffee?"

  He was crushed in a strong embrace which he returned enthusiastically. Bailey was a stalwart young man, broad of shoulder and lean of hip, and his very fitness made Ashton feel like a too skinny too tall freak sometimes. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep so I came back to wait for you."

  He'd told Bailey to make himself at home, to use the key to the back door whenever he wanted to. He should have just given him a key to the front door, but some insecure, cowardly bastard inside him had held back from that. Giving him the key to the front door meant something apparently, that he hadn't been willing to deal with. Silly to balk at it though, when the cottage itself was a tribute to their lives together. They'd done so many weekend projects, improving and decorating the place, that it really was theirs.

  "I wasn't doing anything, you know. I got drunk and passed out on Arlo's boat." He held his breath, kept his arms around his boyfriend, ready to do his best to keep him from running, or force him to listen, or whatever it took to make sure that they were still in tune.

  Bailey looked startled as his blue eyes widened. "You know, that never occurred to me. I thought you might be mad, that you might have been in an accident, all sorts of things, but I never thought that you'd cheated on me."

  Relief melted the tension in his spine. He relaxed, loosening his hold. "I never would, you know."

  "I know." Bailey kept one arm around his waist and led Ashton to the kitchen. Two of his mother's blue on white floral print bone china coffee cups sat out on the marble breakfast bar. A jar of maraschino cherries, a bottle of dark chocolate sauce, and a can of whipped cream surrounded the delicate cups.

  "Are you inspired to make a dessert coffee?" He laughed at the affront on Bailey's face.

  "You know I like it sweet."

  "And you know I like my coffee black."

  "There's no reason we can't both have what we want, is there?" Was that a challenge in Bailey's voice? Regardless of his intent, the words sent shivers of lust through Ashton. If only he weren't so achy and tired.

  "No," he drawled slowly. "I suppose there isn't. What are you up to?"

  Bailey smiled innocently at him and started pouring the coffee. Ashton accepted his cup, steaming and black, and watched, bemused, as Bailey began adding the other items to his cup, ending up with something that smelled amazing.

  "Black forest cake. Have you tried it? All chocolate and cherry and sweet cream… There was one at the party yesterday and it was amazing, better than sex. I should have saved you a piece, but I wasn't fast enough." Bailey said, catching his gaze. He held out the cup of doctored coffee. "Want to try it?"

  "Er…" The thought of the sweet drink made his stomach roil. "I think some other time. I have a touch of a hangover."

  An inelegant snort was his answer. Bailey began putting the ingredients into the narrow fridge with the comfort and ease of long familiarity. Ashton watched him, sipping at his coffee. "That's it, then?" he finally asked. "You're good with last night, nothing else to say?"

  Bailey paused in the act of wiping the countertop. Whatever he thought of Drew as a parent, he'd certainly taught his sons well. Neat white teeth sank into the tempting lower lip. "I'm not sure. I mean, I understand what you did, but it hurts that you didn't even think about me while you were out, that you ignored my calls and texts."

  Ashton flinched and set his coffee down. "I'm sorry. I was upset, primarily because I was hurt that your father didn't know about me. Can I make it up to you?"

  "You could tell me who Arlo is, if it would make you more comfortable." Bailey ducked his head and scrubbed at a spot on the counter.

  The tiny subterfuge warmed Ashton. He tipped Bailey's face back up so their eyes met. "He's an old friend, my college roommate before grad school. He's also a marine archeologist and he arrived yesterday from Aruba. I met him for drinks and he blathered on about amazing finds when all I wanted to do was talk about you." He brushed his lips over Bailey's softly. "I really am sorry. It was thoughtless of me not to let you know what was going on. I plead stupidity."

  Bailey smiled weakly at him. "And that's why I'm trying not to be mad. I was stupid and thoughtless too. If you can forgive me, then I can forgive you."

  "Done." He rubbed his sore eyes. "Hey…it's Sunday. We were supposed to go over to the nature walk this afternoon and the hardware store about a sprinkler system."

  Bailey nodded. "I'm game if you are."

  "Well, I am, but I'm kind of tired and I'd like a shower."

  Mocking laughter filled the air, and the last dregs of doubt flitted from his heart. "You laugh, but Arlo's boat is smaller than my bedroom and the couch I slept on wouldn't fit a Chihuahua comfortably. What do you say we nap, and then tackle that list of things to do today?"

  "Are you sure? You've got all that grading to do too."

  "I'm sure. You look tired, baby. Go lay down and I'll be there when I get done in the shower."

  Bailey nodded, smiling shyly as he picked up his coffee and left the room. Ashton watched him go, fighting with himself. Was he being foolish? Sharing a bed with Bailey was like penning a sheep with a wolf. They only had a few more days to go until graduation. Graduation, the goal he'd set for keeping his hands to himself.

  Leaving Bailey to settle himself into the only room of the house that didn't already bear his stamp, Ashton headed to the bathroom and a shower. He turned the water on to heat then ran a hand over his jaw. Stubble could burn, but he wasn't really alert enough for face shaving. Instead he brushed his teeth and stared at himself in the mirror. He was seriously considering breaking his word. Compromising his principles. And for what? To get laid?

  Then again, Bailey was twenty-one, they'd had about the most long term relationship he'd ever had, even without sex, and damn it, after the emotional turmoil of the last twenty-four hours, he wanted. Wanted to touch those hard muscles, to lick his way over the ridged abdomen and taste the essence of Bailey. He wanted to possess and be possessed by his boyfriend, to make the claim permanent.

  He spit into the sink and pulled back the shower curtain. The thin plastic tension rod that held the liner in place wobbled, and he mentally added another project to the list of things that needed to be done to make the cottage a home.

  The internal arguments continued throughout his shower, and he still hadn't made up his mind what to do when he exited the shower. He took two aspirin and swallowed the pills with a cup of water. He wasn't in any condition at the moment to make love. Hell, he was lucky to be able to walk. But neither did he have the strength of will to fend off Bailey's advances. Saying no had gotten harder as graduation day approached. The time to say yes just might have arrived.

  The option was taken out of his hands when he stepped barefoot, wrapped in a plush eco-friendly bamboo and cotton towel, into his bedroom from the bathroom. The room was blessedly
dark; Bailey had pulled the shades down to block out the sun. His eyes adjusted slowly and he couldn't help smiling at the sight that came clear.

  A soft, vulnerable looking Bailey lay on the bed in his jeans. He'd stripped off his T-shirt and kicked off his sandals. His eyes were closed, dark lashes shadowy crescents on his cheeks. His parted lips tempted Ashton to kiss him, but his gentle snores reminded him just how tired they both were.

  Sighing contentedly, Ashton picked up the plain blue T-shirt and folded the garment neatly before putting it on the room's only chair, a brocade covered Queen Anne reproduction armchair bought at a flea market months before. He kicked the sandals under the chair and draped his own towel over the bedpost before donning a pair of boxers and climbing into the bed. Bailey shifted automatically toward him in his sleep, without a murmur.

  Ashton turned on his side and brushed a strand of hair off Bailey's forehead. The answer to his dilemma came to him just as sleep forced his eyelids down.

  Chapter Six

  Warm limbs pinned him to the bed. Hot, heavy breath raked across his sensitive ear. A stiff cock prodded his side. Icy trepidation trickled down his spine. Bailey's eyes flew open and he jerked. He glanced frantically around the room. What had he done the night before? Where was he? Who slept so soundly his body was like a dead weight pinning Bailey to the bed?

  It took him a moment of dazed bewilderment to remember the answers to those questions, longer to calm his racing heart. He hadn't awakened in a bed that wasn't his own for nearly eighteen months and he'd struggled with regaining his self-respect for most of that time. The period of wildness, of too much drinking and too much sex with strangers culminated with his emotional meltdown in the school library.

  That phase of his life had ended with coffee with a man who'd smiled and held out a hand and offered an ear to listen. It had ended with Ashton Duval, the tall, lanky, not quite handsome professor who slept next to him now.