Chapter 22 Wes
Wes
Last night was the same as every other in regard to me not being able to sleep. What wasn’t the same was that I could still feel Bailey’s lips against mine. I had to consistently fight to not go over there. Instead, I stayed put and tried to will myself to sleep.
Of course it didn’t happen, my leg pain flared as it does and as always, it brought me right back to that day.
The explosions, the burning sensation, the screams, and the searing pain.
At one point I put my noise canceling headphones on with music loud enough to try and drown out the noise in my head.
Nights like that would usually have me driving until the sun comes up.
But I wasn’t going anywhere–not with the slim chance Bailey might show up.
However, lying in bed alone with nothing but my thoughts was brutal.
The pain radiating through me dragged me to that dark place in my mind.
The one where I wished my life was taken with theirs.
Suddenly. Quickly. No longer having to deal with the pain I live with each and every day.
There’s pressure on my uninjured leg, and I open my eyes to see Bruno resting his head on me, and I’m brought back to the present. Letting out a sigh I do everything I can to try and fall asleep once again.
When I crack my eyes open, I look around, and I think I actually managed a couple of hours eventually.
My leg is stiff after not moving for a few hours, but thankfully, it’s not as painful as it was last night.
I limp slightly as Bruno and I go downstairs to let him out.
I lean against the door frame enjoying the fresh air against the bare skin of my chest.
When I hear a noise from next door, I step over to the fence and see Bailey sitting curled up in one of her chairs, holding a mug between her hands.
I just look at her, there’s a furrow in her brow.
Her long wavy hair is down, a little messy like she hasn’t touched it since she rolled out of bed, and has a slight purse to her lips.
She looks like she’s thinking too hard with her eyebrows pinched together.
The natural beauty she has that I don’t even think she notices.
I’ve always noticed.
She might think I don’t like her, but I don’t really like anyone. I don’t dislike her. We’ve had our disagreements over the years that we’ve lived next to each other, but she’s always intrigued me.
Even that first night together I knew there was more to her than she seems to let on, and right now the way she’s staring out into her yard has me wondering what that could be.
She raises her mug to her lips, but then sees me, and jumps.
Something comes over me—I don’t know what—and has me inviting her to go with me to Jameson’s.
I don’t think she’ll agree, but as I walk outside, about to leave, she’s waiting by my car.
The sight of her ass leaning against the side shouldn’t have me reacting in such a feral way, but it does.
The way she was pressed against me just last night is at the forefront of my mind.
Now her tall frame is right here with her arms crossed looking annoyed.
Bruno trots ahead of me, and bumps his head against her gently, allowing her to reach down and scratch his head.
“You joining us?” I ask, reaching around her to open the passenger door for Bruno to jump in.
“I thought about it, but I don’t think there’s room.”
“There’s plenty, you and Bruno can cuddle in the front seat. Or you can ride in my lap.” I smirk.
Bailey scoffs, and rolls those pretty green eyes at me. I’m keeping track because at this point I’m going to have her ass so red from every single time she’s done that to me. “That’s dangerous, I’ll leave you two to have your time together alone.”
Standing up straight, I raise my eyebrow at her before signaling to Bruno to get into the small backseat. It’s cramped and there isn’t enough room for it to be a seat a person can actually fit into, but it’s perfect for him and it frees up the front seat for my stubborn guest.
She grumbles something under her breath, but climbs in the car acting like I’m forcing her to come with me when she’s the one that made the decision to join. Even though she doesn’t want to admit it, I don’t think she actually dislikes me all that much either.
Once we get to the barn and I start feeding the horses, I notice Bruno sticking by Bailey’s side, which I find interesting. He’s been friendly enough to Emily, but really the only other person he’s been that comfortable with and attached to is me.
“What can I do?” Bailey asks.
“Entertain Bruno,” I grunt, swinging another hay bale down to untwine.
“You wanted me to come with you to entertain your dog?”
I don’t bother correcting her that he’s technically not my dog because it seems like a pointless argument to have with her right now.
“You could entertain me, too,” I joke.
“I think I’d rather entertain the dog.”
“Come on. You’re the one that said I don’t know anything about you. So tell me something.”
“You first.”
I drop two flakes down into one of the stalls, moving onto the next one while I think about something I would be willing to share. “I’m from Arizona.”
“Really? Why’d you move here?” She sounds surprised.
“Why did you?” I look at her from the hay loft, and she scrunches her face.
She doesn’t say anything right away, and right when I think we’re just going to let the silence between us continue, she finally speaks again. “I’m from Ohio.”
I try to hide my shocked expression that she even said anything.
“Where else have you lived?” she asks. The fact that she wants to know more about me enough to ask has a smile playing at my lips, but I hold back.
“Lots of places. You don’t want the whole list. The Army moved me around quite a bit during the ten years I was in.”
Would’ve moved me around more if I’d gotten to stay in like I planned.
“Which was your favorite?” she questions, and again I’m surprised she’s asking more.
I think about it while feeding the last horse, then climbing down to the floor level. She’s sitting in a chair petting Bruno as I answer.
“Japan.”
“Why?”
“It’s my turn to ask something.”
“I didn’t realize it had to be equal,” she scoffs.
“Of course it does. Do you have any siblings?”
Bailey grumbles, “Yeah.”
“How many?”
“My turn. Why was Japan your favorite? Let me guess, it had to do with women.”
I tilt my head at her, narrowing my eyes. “Why do you think of me like that? Like I’m some sort of man whore.”
“Aren’t you? I’m sure you’re out with women when you leave in the middle of the night.”
I grunt, but don’t tell her otherwise. There’s no point if this is how she sees me for. Little does she know, the last woman I slept with was her. And before her, it had been years since I’d touched a woman.
“I liked the culture there. The sights, how different it is from the states. Being able to experience new things in such a different place without the imminent threat of danger was nice for a little while,” I explain, and it clearly catches her off guard. “How many siblings do you have?”
“I had four.”
I notice the way she says had, but I know she won’t let me ask another question until she does. I grab a wheelbarrow and shovel to start mucking the horse stalls.
“What made you leave the Army?”
I freeze, staring at the sawdust covered ground and doing my best to control my breathing to not let the memories of the reason take over. To not let her know there is any real reason. But then she speaks up again.
“Is it because of what happened to your leg?”
I grunt out some variation of, “Yeah,” before continuing to clean out the stall, refusing to turn around and face her until I’m sure my face won’t give anything away.
“I had three brothers and one sister. One of my older brothers died of an overdose a couple years ago,” she speaks softly, and while I’m able to hear her it gets me to turn around.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs. “It’s whatever. He made his choices, and my oldest brother Brent tried to help him for years. Brandon made his bed, and he ended up laying in it.”
I don’t tell her I know all too well what she means.
Plenty of the guys I met during my time serving turned to destructive habits as a coping mechanism.
Drugs, alcohol, self-harming behaviors. It’s all too common for veterans.
Especially those of us that get injured and are forced out against our will.
“I am a little surprised, though,” she says, her tone lighter.
“About what?”
“That you don’t know who my brother is. It seems like everywhere I go my name is recognized thanks to him.”
I turn toward her, leaning my elbow on the end of the picking tool while giving her a questioning look. “Is he famous or something?”
“You must not watch sports.”
“Not really high on my list of hobbies. Sometimes I put golf on.”
“Golf?” she sputters.
“Yeah, it’s not too loud, kind of peaceful.” I shrug, continuing to clean out the stalls. “What sport does your brother play that makes him so famous?”
“Hockey. My oldest brother, Brent, played for the Denver Dragons, but just retired,” she explains softly.
“Hockey is cool, pretty violent though. Sounds like I don’t want to piss him off.”
She scoffs. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I haven’t seen him in years, and if you somehow did manage to piss him off, he’s not one to fight. Even if he was, you could take him.”
“That right?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“Uh yeah, have you looked in the mirror? You’re a fucking tank.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
“Didn’t intend for it to be, but whatever gets you off.”
Her face flames as she looks away, realizing what she said and I hide my laughter, turning back toward the mess in the stall.
When I’m not looking at her I’m able to share a little more.
Especially since she shared something so vulnerable with me, which coming from Bailey is even more disconcerting.
“I wanted to have a career in the Army, it was the only plan for me. I was an Apache pilot, and there was an attack that took my future away.” I can’t look at her, just focusing on mucking the dirty ground and not allowing my mind to go back to the dark place it drifts to.
She doesn’t speak right away, maybe she won’t at all, and that’s fine. I can do silence. I’m comfortable in the silence.
When she finally does, there’s a sense of relief washing over me, and the feeling is both unexpected and frightening.
“Maybe it wasn’t taking away your future, but putting you on the path you were really meant to be on instead.”