Chapter 11
Bailey
Flynn’s place wasn’t what I expected. I kind of thought it’d be empty and lonely, but it had a cozy, lived-in vibe that was nice.
He’d set up a bookshelf against the living room wall.
There were dozens of titles, mostly science fiction and self-help, by the looks of it.
A couple of trade mechanic magazines lay on the coffee table, which had been stained in a dark, swirly pattern, and a blanket was draped over the arm of the sofa, as if he often snuggled up there.
Flynn pushed me down on the couch, which was familiar, its lumps a terrain I’d navigated for years. “Isn’t this…”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “Axel said I could have it.”
“Sure. Of course.”
We’d moved it to the junkyard after Emory brought his newer sofa into the house. I’d always liked this couch, though. It was old, yes, but long and cushy. It had held all of us better than Emory’s shorter, more stylish sofa too.
“Wait here,” Flynn said, turning to head into the kitchen a few feet away. A breakfast bar separated the rooms in an otherwise open floor plan.
I watched him open the freezer, and my eye gave a pulse of pain, reminding me that I had taken a punch to the face like an idiot.
I picked up a magazine to distract myself—glimpsing an article about the evolution of car design—but my damn eye was swelling shut, and my other one didn’t like the strain of doing all the work.
I tossed it back down and pressed my fingers to the tender flesh under my eye instead. Because that would make it feel better.
“Don’t poke at it,” Flynn said as he returned, a bag of frozen green beans in his hand.
“Aren’t you supposed to use peas?” I asked. “Or, like, raw steak or some shit. That’s what they do on TV.”
“This is all I’ve got.” He took a seat beside me on the sofa and lifted the bag to my face, pressing it gently against the swelling. I hissed at the cold burn against my skin.
“Give it a moment,” he said softly. “It’ll go numb.”
I sighed. “You must think I’m an idiot.”
“I think you’re reckless,” he murmured, face close enough that his breath brushed against my neck. I shivered a little, goose bumps popping up. “Your brothers can’t always be there as backup. Neither can I. What then?”
“I guess I get a few more bruises,” I said, trying to sound as if it was no big deal.
The fight tonight had rattled me more than I wanted to admit, though. I could usually talk my way out of a situation, and when I couldn’t, Axel or Gray had always been there.
It was just luck Flynn had been in the bar tonight. I really would have gotten the worst of it without his intervention.
“You’re playing with fire,” Flynn said, sounding grim.
“You fuck with the wrong man, and you could end up with more than bruises. Do you understand that, Bailey? You could get seriously hurt. What if he had a knife? Or what if he’d been that big dude instead?
You could pay with your fucking life. Is it worth it? ”
His voice trembled a little, and I realized it wasn’t from anger. It was fear.
“I’m sorry.” I lifted my hand to take the bag from him and lowered it from my face. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He looked down at his hands. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“It doesn’t feel too great either. For a little guy, he sure hit fucking hard. Damn.”
“Right.” Flynn stood. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
He went back to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. He brought it to me, along with two pills. “Take these. They’ll help with the pain and inflammation.”
“Thanks.” I tossed the pills onto my tongue, then took a gulp of water to swallow them. The water was so sweet, and my mouth was so dry, that I gulped down the rest in one go.
I lowered the glass, breathless, and licked a stray drop from the corner of my lips.
Flynn sat down, watching me intently. “Better?”
“A little.” I licked my lips again, just to see if he’d notice. He most definitely did.
He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “That eye will be tender for a while. You’ll have a heck of a shiner. There’s no getting around that.”
“Well, it’d be worse if you hadn’t stepped in, so I’m not complaining.”
“I can’t always be there.”
“I know, but thanks for tonight, anyway. I’m sorry if that put you at risk. I’d hate to make any trouble for your parole.”
“It’s fine. No authorities had to intervene.”
“Still,” I said. “I’d never endanger you that way knowingly. Next time, don’t help me. If I end up in that situation, it’s my fault. No one else’s.”
He tensed. “No. You can’t ask that. I could never stand by and watch.”
“Close your eyes, then?”
He huffed. “Why are you so determined to get your ass kicked?”
“I’m not. I just have a way of pissing off guys when I make them feel inadequate.”
To my surprise, Flynn chuckled. “I bet you make a lot of guys feel that way, huh?”
“When I play pool?”
“All the time,” he said. “You’re gorgeous, and you’re an incredible mechanic. And now you’re a college student too.”
My heart quickened. “You think so?”
“Yeah, of course. You’re pretty impressive, Bails.”
“I never really saw myself that way.”
He nodded. “It’s why Holden has such high expectations for you.”
“Not you too,” I said glumly.
“No.” Flynn shook his head, expression serious. “I don’t have any expectations of you, except for you to be the great guy you are. You don’t have to prove anything to me, ever.”
I locked eyes with him—well, eye. One was still swollen shut. “I think you’re great too.”
“I’m not great. I’m an ex-con,” he scoffed. “Nothing special about—”
I swayed over and kissed him right in the middle of his sentence, cutting off his words.
I kissed him as if I had any right to his lips. As if I’d done it before. Like my heart wasn’t trying to beat out of my chest and my pulse wasn’t rushing in my ears.
Flynn’s lips were dry and firm beneath mine, but not unyielding. He gasped, lips parting, and for half a second, it was bliss.
Damn, that had been a smooth move.
Funny, because I wasn’t calm at all. Not inside. I’d wanted this too damn long for it to be anything but scary as hell.
My tongue met Flynn’s, tasting the cinnamon of the toothpicks he was always sticking in his mouth. He made a growly sound in his throat that was hot as fuck, and one hand tightened in my hair, yanking me closer.
The other came up to frame my face. Only Flynn’s hands were so damn big that his index finger brushed the bruising around my eye.
I flinched, and Flynn jerked back.
“Shit.” He picked up the forgotten bag of thawing veggies from my lap and pressed it against my eye. “Hold this. I need to make you a sandwich.”
“Or you could keep kissing me,” I suggested. “That would be a great plan too.”
“You kissed me,” he pointed out. “And it can’t happen again. You’re just in pain and looking for a distraction.”
“That’s bullshit,” I said. “I like you, Flynn. I always have.”
“I like you too,” Flynn said, “but we can’t do this.”
“Why not? You kissed me back. I felt it. You must be into guys at least a little!”
He stared at me incredulously. “Well, yeah. I’m into guys a lot. I’m bi, Bailey.”
“Oh. Well, then…why not keep kissing?” My confidence surged. “You want me too. I’ve seen the looks you try to hide from me.”
“Bailey, you’re so young, and I’m not even close to good enough for you.”
“What the fuck? You said I was amazing, just as I am. I feel the same about you, so why—”
“It’s different,” he cut in. “I’ve made real mistakes, Bailey. I’m not someone you want to be with.”
“Yes, you are.” I reached for him, determined to show him, but Flynn jumped to his feet and headed for the kitchen.
“I’ll make you that sandwich.”
“Fuck the sandwich!” I exclaimed, exasperated, as I followed him.
“I like you, Flynn. I think you like me. Stop acting like I’m your little brother!
All anyone sees is little Bailey who can’t handle the world.
Fuck. You should have just let that guy kick my ass.
I would’ve dealt with it. I’m not a child. ”
He yanked open the fridge. “I don’t see you as a child, Bailey.” He slapped packages of deli meat and cheese on the counter between us. “It’s more complicated than that.”
I tossed down the now-warm bag of veggies. “So explain it to me.”
He pressed his lips together, looking as if he wouldn’t answer me. I watched, fuming, as he withdrew mayo and retrieved a package of bread.
“Really?” I burst out. “You’re just going to ignore the question?”
His shoulders went rigid, then abruptly sagged. He turned to face me.
“I work for your brothers,” he finally said, “and I went to prison. Didn’t you ever wonder what got me there?”
“Well, yeah, but Holden said the terms of the Redemption Road program were to not disclose your felony. Dalton could have found out, but Holden said we should respect your privacy.” I shrugged. “I was curious, but I didn’t want to pry.”
“Well, you should know who you’re kissing,” he said, as he assembled my sandwich with quick, efficient movements, eyes on his hands, rather than me. “So, ask, Bailey.”
My stomach tightened. His tone wasn’t encouraging. What could Flynn have done that was so terrible?
I licked my dry lips. “What did you do, Flynn? Rob a bank or something?” I chuckled weakly.
“I wish that’s all it was,” he said, eyes dark as he lifted them to meet mine. “I killed someone, Bailey.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. No. That couldn’t be right. The words didn’t make sense. Flynn wasn’t— He couldn’t have done that.
“I don’t think I heard you right,” I said.
“I killed someone.”
“Like in a car accident?” I asked, clinging to hope.
“No, not like that. I’m a murderer, Bailey,” he said, voice harsh. “I went to prison for killing a man.”
“That can’t be right,” I whispered.
“It is,” he said. “You need to stop and reconsider what you’re asking for. I’m not the great guy you think you know.”
I stared at him, speechless. Horrified.
“But no, you wouldn’t,” I said in a small voice. “There must have been some mistake. You were set up, or, or—”
“I was guilty,” Flynn said flatly, giving me no excuses or explanations.
He handed me the sandwich. I stared at it, but I wasn’t seeing it. I didn’t even feel the throbbing of my black eye anymore.
White noise filled my ears as my heart beat too fast.
“Now you know,” Flynn said quietly. “The guest room is yours if you want it. If you’d rather leave, I’ll understand. Now that you’ve iced your eye, you should be okay.”
He walked away, leaving me with a sick feeling in my stomach. The Flynn I knew would never hurt anyone, and yet, he had. He’d killed a man. He’d been convicted.
He admitted his guilt.
What the hell did I do with that?
I set the sandwich down and walked to the door, then opened it as quietly as I could and slipped out.
I needed to clear my head and think. If I stayed here, I’d only lie awake all night and paint gruesome scenarios in my head, wondering what happened.
I didn’t want to picture Flynn that way. Didn’t want to imagine him at his worst. As violent. As murderous.
I wanted to hold on to the Flynn I thought I knew.
I climbed into my car and started driving.
I drove for just over two hours, all the way back to Thurston University.
Suddenly, my problems seemed incredibly insignificant. So I didn’t like sitting through class? Big deal. So I was afraid of upsetting my brothers by changing my plans? Boo-fucking-hoo.
I really was a fucking child, wasn’t I? Because Flynn Donovan had killed someone. And my engineering degree—or lack thereof—didn’t mean shit.
Not when the world no longer made sense.
Everything was upside down and backwards. I couldn’t process it. My heart wanted to scream that it was a lie, and yet Flynn’s bleak honesty gave me no room for denial.
The man I wanted—the man I thought I could love—was a murderer. No amount of schooling could ever prepare me for that.