Chapter 2 Xaden #16
“No,” he replies. “But I needed to.”
He’s quiet for a long time after that last note. Then, almost sheepishly: “I didn’t want to mess up your life. I thought if I stayed away, you’d heal faster. Move on. Be better off.”
I let out a soft laugh, sad and certain. “Do you really think there’s been a single day in my life that’s been better off without you?”
His gaze catches mine. “I have never been very logical when it comes to you, Cole,” he murmurs, brushing a curl off my forehead. “You make me swoon for you.”
My cheeks heat. “You’re impossible.”
I take one more post-it:
The sky turned that weird purple before it rained. Your kind of storm.
I fold it carefully and return it to the box. Each post-it is proof that love didn’t end when he left. It just waited.
When I help him to the bathroom, he leans into me more than he means to. I hand him Advil and a glass of water, watch him swallow it down, then steer him gently back to the couch.
The room is heavy with morning light. Xaden looks at me, eyes softer than I’ve ever seen. My hand finds his cheek, thumb brushing the edge of the stitches, careful, reverent.
“You came back,” I whisper.
“I was always going to come back. I promise I won’t leave again,” he murmurs, voice low, eyes full of awe.
“Good,” I breathe, forehead tipping against his. “Because I’m planning to keep you.”
He lets me guide him back down. Our fingers tangle without a word. His breathing slows, warm and steady against my arm until he drifts back to sleep.
XADEN
When I wake up, I’m being stared at. Big, curious eyes. Green, like Cole’s.
“Are you Daddy’s friend? Why do you sleep on the couch? Do you know it’s day? Grandma says early birds get the worm.”
I blink, still horizontal, blanket half-slipped off. “Hi,” I manage.
Noah stands in red shorts and a faded dinosaur tee, clutching a plastic T-Rex in one hand. In the other, a leash. On the leash? A gigantic green dinosaur toy that seems to be glaring at me.
He’s Cole in miniature — if Cole had a permanent sugar rush.
I spot my old t-shirt, the one Cole was wearing two nights ago, folded on an armchair. I ask if Noah could give it to me. “This is Daddy’s,” he informs, but hands it over anyway. “He likes it.”
“Is that so?” I grin, which makes my lip protest. Still worth it.
“Do you like strawberry or chocolate the most?” He narrows his eyes. This is clearly a test.
“Ice cream?” He nods solemnly. “Strawberry. Easy.”
His face lights up. “Same! Daddy says chocolate but he’s wrong.”
“So wrong.”
He pads into the kitchen, dinosaur on a leash thudding against every chair leg and doorframe. I follow more cautiously.
Cole’s at the counter, making coffee. Shorts. Sleeveless shirt. Unfair. I almost groan. He turns, gaze softening the moment it lands on me, then flicks to Noah.
“Noah, this is my friend, Xaden.”
“He took your shirt, daddy.”
“Is it really your shirt, Cole?” I tease.
“Finders keepers,” he mutters, handing me a mug. His fingers brush mine, and I swear the air crackles with electricity. I sigh, looking at him in those goddamn shorts. I can’t heal fast enough. I take a sip and instantly regret it when the cut on my lip protests.
Noah’s still studying me like I’m a suspect. “Daddy, why are Xaden’s arms so much bigger than yours?”
Cole groans. I laugh, then wince. “We don’t comment on people’s appearances,” Cole says gently.
“Sorry, Xaden.” He doesn’t sound sorry.
“It’s because I like lifting heavy things,” I explain. “When you do that a lot, you get strong arms. Like mine.”
He frowns at his own skinny arms, clearly calculating his future workout plan. Cole’s cheeks turn pink, and I want to kiss him senseless.
I will kiss him senseless. First chance I get.
“Also,” I add, “it helps me sleep better.”
“I have a tip,” Noah says gravely. “For sleeping better.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Bathing with dinosaurs. But you can’t have mine. Especially T-Rex. He’s my favorite.”
“Fair. Maybe you can help me pick out my own?”
“Yes!” He’s already dragging crayons and paper onto the table.
“What are them pictures on your arms?” he asks suddenly, pointing.
“They’re called tattoos. They tell a story.”
“I want a T-Rex one,” he declares. He points at the constellation on my bicep: “What all them stars mean?”
“It’s my way of keeping someone I love close to me,” I say softly.
“Daddy likes stars too.”
I glance at Cole. He’s watching, coffee cupped in both hands, eyes warm and aching.
He swallows hard, like he’s torn between speaking and staying quiet.
Like if he says too much, the whole fragile, perfect scene might dissolve.
But the way he’s looking at me, like I belong in this kitchen, in this life, in this family, says it all.
“Are tattoos forever?” Noah asks.
“They are. Same kind of forever as love.”
THE BAYWOOD GAZETTE
Letter from the Editor
By Marjorie Pike, Editor-in-Chief
Fellow Baywood citizens,
It is with great journalistic responsibility and personal satisfaction that we bring you today’s coverage of Sheriff Hugh Willard’s arrest. While our duty is to report facts, typing the words “hauled off in cuffs” may be the happiest moment in my journalistic career.
We at the Gazette have long prided ourselves on objective reporting, even when confronted with the Sheriff’s “friendly” reminders to keep certain stories off the record.
In the spirit of full transparency, I can now share that these reminders occasionally involved him blocking the exit to our office while wearing mirrored sunglasses indoors.
As you will read in the following pages, Willard’s crimes range from the serious to the absurd.
From murder, intimidation, and abuse of power to the theft of baked goods.
Whether you see Willard as a cautionary tale, a local villain finally unmasked, or simply a man who couldn’t keep his hands off a pecan twist, one thing is certain: Baywood is watching, and we are taking notes.
Yours in news and neighborliness,
Marjorie Pike , Editor-in-Chief
The Baywood Gazette
SHERIFF WILLARD IN CUFFS — BAKED GOODS, BAD COLOGNE, AND A LONG LIST OF ENEMIES
Many rejoiced when Sheriff Hugh Willard was escorted from the station in handcuffs after years of what locals are calling a reign of mild terror and questionable cologne choices.
A Bakery Betrayed
Earl Davenport, owner of Earl’s Bakery, told us: “I’d like to thank my parents, town hero Xaden Bailey, and my Finnish pen pal Maija Miettinen. We’re officially Zooming now.”
Davenport declined to explain how this related to Willard’s arrest, but insisted it was “worth printing.” And we did, because it’s Earl.
“It's not the money,” Earl continued. “It’s the principle. You can’t just stroll in, take a cinnamon roll, and tip your hat like it’s some kind of barter system. That man owes me $182.50 worth of assorted pastries.”
Picture : The Famous Earl’s Bakery Display Case
Note the empty space where a tray of pecan twists once sat. “Whole Baywood sleeps better now, knowing no one touches my buns without permission”, Davenport says, dabbing his eyes with a napkin.
A Coffee House Crime
Dorothy and Delilah Bloom of Baywood Beans, the 2016 State Sudoku Duo Champions, also claim to have suffered under Willard’s sweet tooth.
“He never paid,” Dorothy said. “Never filled a Sudoku grid.”
Delilah nodded, grimly. “Unlike Sheriff Willard, every Sudoku has one correct solution.”
The sisters credit “town hero” Xaden Bailey for bringing Willard down. “We’d like to offer him a lifetime discount of ten percent. Cole, too, because he’s such a sweetie. Not nearly as awkward as before.”
Picture : Ms. Dorothy Bloom and Ms. Delilah Bloom
The sisters are currently training for the World Sudoku Championship. “At times like this, we find comfort in numbers,” Delilah told the Gazette.
Scent of Corruption
An anonymous source close to the Willard family alleged that the sheriff has worn “the same cheap cologne since 2004,” causing his wife “daily headaches.” One officer described the scent as “like someone lit a candle in a tire shop.”
Picture : Unlabeled Bottle of Cologne, Seized as Evidence
The bottle has been sealed in an evidence bag, though officers report the smell continues to haunt the station.
‘Soulless Eyes’
Becky Fairweather, PTA President, and her close friend Rose Clarkson, Garden Club President, have bravely decided to share their own sheriff-based traumas.
“I always knew there was something off about Sheriff Willard,” Mrs. Fairweather said. “His eyes were like a dark void. Completely soulless.”
Rose Clarkson agreed. “When I first saw Willard, I turned to my husband and said, “Peter, that man looks like he would let an honest man get crushed under a car.’”
Clarkson is, of course, referring to the murder of local mechanic Eli Bailey, whose death — previously ruled a tragic accident — is now being re-investigated.
The Domino Effect
Willard’s arrest triggered a sweep of related charges:
JJ “Cherry Garcia” Craven and Ronnie “Mahjong” Craven were taken into custody for suspected racketeering and allegedly knocking over a tip jar at Earl’s Bakery. They also face charges of aggravated assault and at least one attempted murder.
Keith Blackwood and Sam Crowley were charged with assault, breaking and entering, property damage, trafficking and drug dealing charges.
Collum Byrne was arrested later that day for attempting to “free” Willard by driving a lawn mower into the police station wall. He sprained his wrist.
COLE
When the truth about Eli Bailey’s murder broke the surface, the town mourned and raged. Many residents in Baywood had been pawns in Willard’s power games, but Eli Bailey had paid the ultimate price, trying to do the right thing.
Following Saturday, the citizens gather to celebrate and to remember. The square is busier than it’s been in a long time.
Earl is holding court near a makeshift bake table. “Blueberry Baileys two for the price of one! Justice tastes like Xaden Bailey!” he declares.