Chapter 16
16
Bailey
“ Y es, help ,” Bailey snapped, her face flushing. She’d originally planned on telling him that they needed to be careful with how attached Anya was getting, especially in light of what had nearly happened last night. The rejection still stung like salt had been rubbed in a wound.
He placed both hands on the table and leaned toward her, his voice a heated whisper. “You want to talk about needing help? How about we talk about how impossible you made it for me to help you? I had to practically throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to make you see logic. You have a kid. A kid who depends on you. There shouldn’t have even been an argument.”
The blush on her face intensified, and she suddenly regretted sitting down to have this conversation at all. He was right. Out of the two of them, he was the one seeking help while she pushed everyone aside and insisted that she was going to be okay on her own. Bailey looked down at her hands in her lap. His words hit her hard in the chest, making it painful to breathe.
He settled back in his seat, no longer leaning close, but the tension in the air had only grown heavier. Before she could say anything in retort, Anya came running into the room.
“My teacher said our Christmas concert is in four sleeps.” She skidded to a stop and glanced up at her mother with a frown. “That was my chair.”
Bailey pushed the chair out abruptly and forced a smile toward her daughter. “Yep. I was just saving it for you.” She didn’t look at Carter for even a second as she hurried toward the kitchen cabinets and pulled out the pans she’d need to fix them some tacos. The whole time she cooked, the madder she became. She could feel his heated gaze as he watched her work.
The more she thought about it, the closer she got to one particular realization. He was wrong. Right now, he was struggling whether he liked it or not. He needed someone to talk to. No one did very well when they were holding onto whatever it was he was refusing to relinquish. He needed an ally, and as far as she could recall, his group at the country club didn’t count.
By the time she was done cooking, she was livid. He thought he could deflect what he was dealing with by pointing out her issues when, currently, hers didn’t matter. A few hours later, Anya was in bed and the house practically hummed with the unspoken words she’d let run through her head over and over since their little argument.
Carter stood in the darkened living room at the window, his hands behind his back. The fireplace offered the only light, flickering and casting various shadows on the walls. Outside it was a clear night. A fresh light dusting of snow layered the ground, glittering in the bright moonlight.
Bailey’s determination faltered, and she hesitated. Was it really her place to tell him how to live his life? What was he to her? A roommate? A guest? He was just the man who single-handedly made sure she and her daughter would be cared for during the next month.
Her heart squeezed and constricted painfully. Right now, it didn’t matter that she was attracted to him—had feelings for him. It didn’t matter that she wanted to be the person he would let into his life when he needed someone to lean on. The only thing that mattered was that he found someone he could trust.
Bolstered, Bailey marched across the small living space and stood at his side, choosing to keep her gaze on the scene outside rather than his face. “You’re wrong.”
He stiffened visibly. Even in her peripheral vision, she could tell she’d struck a nerve.
“I don’t care if you hate me or judge me for how I handle things. And you might be seeking help in certain ways… but you’re not doing it well enough.”
“I beg your pardon,” he practically growled.
This time she faced him, her fury the only thing propelling her forward. “You’re dealing with something that you can’t just put a Band-Aid on. As far as I can tell, you’re in group. That’s it. You’ve shut out your family, which probably means you don’t have anyone you can trust to talk to about what’s going on. I’m not saying that has to be me, but I will tell you that you can’t bring that attitude into my home and expect me not to comment on it.” Her breaths came out in sharp huffs. Hands curled into fists at her sides, she glowered at him, praying he wouldn’t be able to flip this argument on its side and make her feel like an idiot all over again.
While Carter’s body faced the window, he’d swung his face around to gaze at her. His expression was a combination of several emotions she couldn’t read—all but one. His fury was unmistakable. He’d unclasped his hands and flexed them at his sides a few times before taking a deep, measured breath. “I don’t hate you.”
Four words. That was all it took to knock her off her feet. Out of her rambling speech, that was the one thing he’d focused on. She blinked several times, then folded her arms. “That wasn’t the point,” she finally shot back. “You have to let someone in.”
His jaw ticked. “And you think it should be you ?” Carter let out a dark chuckle. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me. You don’t know the things I’ve done or the harm I’ve caused. I’m not a good person, Bailey, and you would do well to keep your distance from me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re the first person I’ve met who has a history? Look around. I’ve got baggage, too.”
“This isn’t just about baggage,” he said with exasperation, raking a hand through his hair as he turned toward the window again. “This is about the fact that I’m not good for you. I shouldn’t even be here.” There were words left unspoken; she could sense them hovering in the air like electricity just before a lightning strike. But that wasn’t going to stop her.
“Don’t you think I should be able to decide that?”
His hands were on the back of his neck, and he paced in front of her. “No. You can’t decide anything when you don’t know what’s going on.”
“Then tell me. Or tell someone else. I don’t care what you do, but you have to work through this or it’s only going to poison you.” She couldn’t help the ache in her voice, the longing that made it perfectly clear she was developing feelings for him. She was worried about him, whether he liked it or not. “Just… let me in,” she whispered.
Carter jerked to a stop and stared at her, his eyes flashing. Pain, longing, frustration, guilt—all of it showed in a single expression. Her heart sped up, but she couldn’t tell if it was trying to flee or preparing to fight.
She lifted her chin and stared hard at him. This time she wasn’t going to back down. As terrified as she was that her heart wasn’t going to take this well, she needed him to know she was capable of strength. There was always time for a good cry—later when no one would be any wiser.
Carter moved in close, his face inches from hers, his voice a whisper. “Don’t ask for things you will regret later.”
Goosebumps erupted on her arms, but she held her ground. “Thanks for the advice,” she shot back.
He closed his eyes for a moment, a groan reverberating from his chest.