Chapter 35 #2
Leon gives me a look that’s part helpless, part secretly pleased—like this is exactly what he was hoping would happen but he can’t let on that he orchestrated it perfectly.
“If you insist,” he says with just the right amount of reluctant acceptance.
“I won’t have you getting scabies or bed bugs or something from that place.
Jasper’s room is yours for however long you’d like.
” Her phone rings again and she grabs it from the table.
“Dammit, can’t they take a hint? I better get this.
” And then she’s off, heading back toward her bedroom, her voice carrying in the hallway.
Leon smirks at me, looking so smug.
“Bravo,” I say. “That was some impeccable acting.”
“I thought so too.”
“Was there ever a reservation at the inn?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He taps his chin, pretending to think for a second, then grins. “Not at all. In fact, I think they’re booked solid this week. There’s some children’s cheerleading convention at the event center in town. Kids everywhere running about. Steer clear of those cross streets.”
“You’re terrible,” I say, shaking my head but unable to hide my smile. “So this whole thing was planned?”
“I prefer the term strategically hopeful,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I figured your mum would never let me stay at some sketchy inn. She’s very protective of people she likes.”
“And I guess you think she likes you then?” I tease.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure she likes me more than Jasper at this point,” he says with a grin. “When I stayed last time, I helped her carry groceries, I complimented her garden, and I didn’t track mud through the house. That’s like instant son-in-law status.”
I literally choke on my own saliva. “Son-in-law status? Wow… Someone’s getting quite cocky.”
“Cocky or truthful? You decide.”
“Jury’s still out on that one,” I say, ignoring the acrobatics happening in my stomach.
“Well, I’ve got time to make my case,” he says, and something in his tone shifts. Less teasing, more sincere.
I blow out a breath and my gaze drifts to my hands, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between us. It’s been a weird few months. We’ve texted and had a few calls but we’ve both kept things pretty surface level. Safe and predictable. Which is exactly what I’ve needed. I think.
“Leon…”
“Yeah?”
“What are we doing here?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “I mean, with us. Are we... Are we trying to go back to how things were, or... Because I don’t know if I’m ready for anything… I don’t know… heavy or physical. I’m just…”
“Hey,” he says gently, and I feel his warm hand cover mine on the table. “There’s no pressure, Bailey. None at all.”
I look up at him, searching his face. I know he’s sincere but I can’t help but feel bad. Like a knee-jerk reaction to care about his needs more than my own, which is so not okay, but I can’t help it. “But you came here. You planned this whole thing...”
“I came here because I missed you,” he says simply. “Not because I expect anything from you. I just… I wanted to be near you again. Even if it’s just as friends.”
“Friends,” I repeat, testing the word on my lips. I don’t know how I feel about it… not yet.
“Friends,” he confirms. “For as long as you need. Or forever, if that’s what you want.”
I guess my body understands what my brain is still struggling to make sense of because as soon as he says those words, relief washes over me. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to thank me for caring about you, love.”
“For everything.” My face burns and tears well in my eyes. “What you’re doing with the estate is incredible. I wish I could tell Polly about it.”
“Come here,” he says softly, opening his arms wide. I practically climb into his lap from my chair, settling my head on his chest. He smells like comfort. And when he rubs slow circles on my back, something inside me that’s been wound tight for months finally starts to loosen.
I adjust my head against him so I can hear his heartbeat better. The steady rhythmic beat reminds me of the summer before, when I used to fall asleep with my ear to his chest wrapped in his comfort and care.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
His hand stops rubbing, but he doesn’t move it. “Of what, love?”
“That I’ll never be normal again. That I’ll always be this broken version of myself, pretending everything is okay.”
I bury my face deeper, embarrassed by what I’ve just admitted. But it’s true. Every word. And he’s the first person I’m really saying it to. I don’t even think I’ve been that honest with my therapist.
He continues his gentle motion. “You’re so strong, Bailey. I’ve never thought you were broken, just healing. But you know what? You don’t have to feel any certain way, okay? One day at a time.”
“What if one day at a time isn’t enough?” I ask, my voice muffled against his shirt. “What if I’m stuck like this forever?”
“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he says without hesitation. “There’s no timeline for healing, and there’s no right way to do it. You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re allowed to feel scared.”
I pull back to look at him. “You really mean that?”
“Every single word.” He rolls his lip between his teeth before continuing. “And Bailey? You’re not pretending everything is okay. You’re coping. You’re surviving. You’re here with us, you’re talking, you’re trying. That’s not pretending. That’s being incredibly brave.”
“I don’t feel brave,” I admit.
He wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “I’ll show you every day how brave and strong you are, Firefly.”
I nod, taking in his words. Trying not to dismiss them as him just being nice. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, me with my head on his shoulder, him holding me close. I feel so safe in his arms.
When I finally sit up, all the tears dried, he almost looks sad to see me climb off him. “Sorry if I got snot on your shirt,” I joke, lightening the mood.
“I’ll treasure it forever,” he says with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I remember where the laundry room is… Some fun times in there.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh my God.”
“What? I was just talking about that time your dad taught me how to get motor oil out of fabric,” he says with fake innocence. “Very educational and fun.”
“Okay, buddy.” I roll my eyes but can’t help myself from smiling.
“Although,” he continues, leaning back in his chair, “now that I mention it, there were some other memorable moments in there too.”
“You’re a dirty old man,” I laugh and feel my chest loosening. This back and forth is so natural, it almost feels like nothing’s changed between us. Especially being back home, sitting around my kitchen table. Like old times.
“Maybe so, but this dirty old man got you to laugh. That’s all I wanted.”
His hand finds mine, and he gives it a soft squeeze. For the first time in months, I feel somewhat normal again. There’s just the small fact of us living under the same roof once again. It’ll be an experience, that’s for sure.
“So, want me to show you down to the bro-tel?” I ask. “I’m sure it’s just as gross as when you last saw it. Dirty socks and empty cans included.”
He laughs as he stands. “And there goes the fairytale.”
“Yeah… I’ve only been down there to do laundry. It might need fumigating.”
He helps me up from my chair, keeping his hand wrapped in mine. “Sounds like home.”
Hearing him say home, with his warm voice, does something to my chest. Maybe this house will finally feel like home again with him here.