41. Bailey
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Bailey
NOW
Once the rain stopped and we were able to get out of the house, it felt like Kaitlyn and I spent forever clearing the driveway of all the tree limbs and debris blown in by the storm.
Henry must have caught one of the first flights allowed into the area, and hasn’t left Mirabelle’s side since getting back.
Based on the way my mom is squeezing me tightly, I don’t know when I’ll be left alone either. “I’m so glad you’re all okay,” Mom says, somehow managing to apply more force into her hug. For such a tiny person, she’s really strong.
“Mom, you’re going to crack my ribs if you keep squeezing.” She relaxes her hold just enough to let me breathe a little deeper. “I just can’t believe a fucking hurricane decides to show up right as we fly to California! What are the fucking odds?” she says, and Dad clears his throat.
“Love, maybe let B go before you hurt him?” he suggests, surprising me when Mom actually listens. It’s not like her to be so cooperative, but I stand corrected when she hits Dad’s arm with the back of her hand.
“Don’t tell me what to do. ”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Dad laughs, and then pulls me into a brief hug. “I hope she knows this is hurricane season, and the odds of a hurricane forming are pretty high.”
I can’t help laughing, especially after seeing the daggers Mom’s throwing with her eyes at Dad’s back. Her super hearing having caught it. “Keep laughing. See where it gets you, buddy .”
He turns to shake his head at her, but I’m distracted by Kaitlyn. She’s wearing my sweatshirt again, and I underestimated what kind of effect it would have on me. It feels like she’s claiming to be mine, and I don’t even care if it’s written all over my face how I feel about her.
“You’re not supposed to be out of bed,” Henry says, following behind Mira as she walks into the room. She doesn’t sit still well, and the last few days, she’s been going out of her mind. The only saving grace is that Javi can’t do much either, so that’s made it a little easier.
“I’m fine. Saying hi to my parents isn’t going to do anything,” she argues, and I wince because she’s not being entirely fair, but I don’t know what this is like for her.
“And you couldn’t wait until after the doctor checks you out?”
Mom frowns, looking Mirabelle over. “Are you okay? Why do you need a doctor? What aren’t you telling me?”
“ Us . What are you not telling us ?” Dad corrects, earning him another side eye from Mom as Mirabelle’s cheeks flush.
“I-I cut my hand and I . . . fainted. I’m fine, though.
I spent the last few days on bed rest with Javi keeping me company while Bailey and Kaitlyn took care of everything around here.
Henry is overreacting by hiring a concierge doctor because there’s plenty of other people who need immediate help,” she says, giving Henry her own look.
He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest, and I’m relieved he isn’t backing down. It was terrifying to find her unconscious on the ground. “I’m okay with you thinking that, but like it or not, you’re also someone who needs immediate help.”
Javi was upstairs taking a nap when my parents pulled in, but that doesn’t appear to be the case anymore as he walks into the room rubbing his eyes. He blinks, surprised by all the people standing there. “Am I still dreaming, or are you all really here?”
“I’m sorry we weren’t here,” Mom says, crouching down, and he rushes forward to hug her.
“Do you want to see my fort?” he asks, grinning at her.
Everyone is so focused on him, I take the chance to move closer to Kaitlyn, pulled like she’s my center of gravity.
“Hey, Walker,” she teases, twisting a lock of her dark brown waves around her finger. “You like my sweatshirt?”
My hand twitches, fighting the urge to reach for her. “I like you,” I answer, and her dark eyes sparkle.
“Lucky me,” Kaitlyn says, and I laugh.
“I’m the lucky one,” I correct, and she smiles just as Henry sighs in relief, answering a call, moving past us in the direction of the front door.
“That must be the doctor,” Mirabelle says, mustering a smile, and it gives everyone an excuse to disperse from the room filled with so much tension, a spark could make it explode.
I know what that’s like.
I’ve been doing my best to focus on all the positives in my life, but opening the door to tell Kaitlyn my secrets has the darkness inside me clawing its way to the surface.
Pushing it to the back of my mind is easier when I’m awake, but when I’m asleep, it’s a losing battle.
I’m fighting sleep as much as possible, doing my best to function with only a few hours because any longer than that, I’m afraid I’ll wake everyone up with the screams I wake up choking on.
Cleaning up after the hurricane is the perfect distraction to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay.
The concierge doctor Henry hired to come out said Mirabelle was okay, but she’s supposed to be taking it easy moving forward. Their house suffered minimal damage, but the beach house was another story.
It flooded from the storm surge and there are holes in the roof and siding from debris.
Dad made some calls to contractors, but right now, everyone’s stuck in the same shitty boat.
Mom and Kaitlyn have been at the gallery, taking inventory and making sure nothing was damaged when it was put into storage.
Dad looked surprised when I dove right into removing the worst of the fiber cement siding, and I didn’t know how to tell him that I worked in construction for a chunk of time before I left Charlotte.
I paid attention and learned enough that I can get it started until someone’s able to come out here to analyze the extent of the damage.
From what I can tell, the fiber cement did its job withstanding the worst of it, but there wasn’t much it could do against the gouges in the siding.
I toss the damaged plank onto the pile I’ve started, and my body aches from using muscles I haven’t in so long.
“Hot damn,” Kaitlyn cat calls, whistling from behind me.
Looking over my shoulder, I can’t help the smile pulling at my cheeks when I see her.
“I thought you were at the gallery with my mom?” I take off the heavy-duty gloves I found in the garage, stuffing them into the back pocket of my jeans.
My shirt sticks to me, drenched in sweat from the stifling humidity.
“She told me I could be done for the day, so I thought I’d see what you were up to.
Didn’t think I’d find you putting on a show,” Kaitlyn teases, the shorter pieces of hair around her face curling.
She pulls me closer by my belt loops, and I don’t hesitate to lean in, pressing a short kiss to her lips because I can.
“Sunshine, that wasn’t a show.” I laugh, letting her brightness wrap around me as the best deterrent for the shadows plaguing my mind.
I’m choosing this.
I chose Kaitlyn because she makes me happy, and she’s choosing me.
“What would you call it then?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.
“Work,” I say, and Kaitlyn hums, her eyes falling to land on my mouth. “Kait, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to kiss you again.”
“I’d be okay with that,” she says, and I lean down, feeling my blood thrum at the proximity to her. I brush my lips over hers, feeling her breath hitch, then I pull away. It’s difficult, but I’m not going to want to stop this time.
“I think there’s an extra pair of gloves in the garage if you want to help,” I say, trying to seem like I’m not losing my mind over her. Hell, I guess I should have thought to grab some from the boxes at Henry and Mirabelle’s.
I asked him about it after we knew Mira was okay, and his face turned bright red.
He was reluctant to admit he got suckered by the little girl down the street selling gloves for her school’s fundraiser.
He didn’t realize when he agreed to buy whatever she hadn’t sold to help reach the school’s goal, it meant he would end up with boxes of gloves.
It was sweet, but I couldn’t stop laughing at him.
Kait blinks, frowning when she realizes I’m not going to kiss her. “You’re going to keep working?”
“I am.” I step away, chuckling as I push my hair out of my face. I’ve been meaning to ask Mom if she’ll cut it shorter for me.
“Bailey,” she says, her eyebrows knitting together.
“What?” I ask, trying not to laugh. She’s cute. “If you want me to do something, you’re going to have to use your words and ask. I’m not a mind reader,” I tease, and Kaitlyn groans.
“You’re annoying.”
I snort, pulling the gloves back on. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Will you show me how to do . . . whatever this is?” she asks, motioning toward the siding I’ve been pulling off.
“You want to help?” I ask, because I definitely didn’t expect Kait to give in so easily.
“If you’re not going to take a break, then yeah. I just want to spend time with you, even if it’s doing manual labor. You said the gloves are in the garage?”
I nod, and watch her walk away, trying not to linger on the ripped shorts hugging her curves. Kaitlyn looks over her shoulder as if she can tell I’m staring, sticking out her tongue at me playfully.
Shaking my head, I laugh, moving onto the next section.
It’s still hard for me to come to terms with the fact that after everything, Kaitlyn still wants to be here with me. I like that even after knowing what I’ve told her, she still wants to be around me.
We haven’t been very subtle, and I’ve caught my mom staring at us curiously a couple of times since they’ve been back, but she hasn’t directly asked me anything.
Kaitlyn’s parents get back at the end of the week, and I’m not ready for her to leave the beach house. It’s nice knowing she’s just down the hall.
“Bailey,” Kaitlyn sings my name, pulling me back to reality. “You okay?” she asks, her eyes searching mine .
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, happy to see she found gloves.
“You were staring at the wall and just seemed kind of out of it. What are you thinking about?”
“You,” I reply, loving the pink that crawls up her neck into her cheeks.
“Were you thinking about the date you’re going to take me on?” Kaitlyn asks, and I have been meaning to ask, but with the heaviness of the hurricane and managing the aftermath, I didn’t know if it was a shitty idea.
“How does Friday afternoon sound?” I ask, grabbing the crowbar to pry the next plank off.
“It sounds perfect.” She moves into my space, helping me pull it off. “I’m serious about this—about us. You’re not a rebound to me. I really like you, Bailey. It means more to me than you’ll ever know that you trust me enough to tell me what happened while you were gone. I want us to be real.”
I want this to be real more than anything, but at the same time, I can’t help worrying my darkest secrets will erase any real chance we might have.