Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
BAYLOR
Everything hurts, even my hair. My tongue is thick, heavy, and dry…
so damn dry in my mouth. My throat is swollen and scratchy, but I have no saliva to swallow, so I’m forced to lie on the couch, drying out like a fucking fish out of water.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to push myself up to sit and forget trying to stand.
A loud noise coming from the kitchen causes me to groan. Rolling on my side, I try to stand but end up just continuing to roll onto the floor. Hitting it with a thud that jars my entire body to the point where my stomach threatens to empty itself right here on Granny Cooper’s favorite rug.
“You’re not gonna puke, are you? Because I already did that this morning, and I don’t think that two people should be throwing up in one house at the same time.”
Opening one eye, I look over and up to see Maisie standing in front of me with a coffee mug in her hand.
“Black coffee. It’ll help.”
I let out a grunt. She sinks down, holding the cup out for me to take. Reaching for it, I dip my chin slightly. “You put any hair of the dog in this?” I ask.
Maisie snorts. “No, I didn’t. Now, are you going to tell me what’s got you drinking the way you were last night?”
“Nope,” I state.
She hums, and I expect her to walk back to the kitchen, but she doesn’t.
Instead, she sinks into one of the armchairs across from me and tilts her head to the side, her gaze fixed on me.
And as much as I try to avoid her attention, I can’t.
She is not going anywhere. She’s comfortable, and she wants to talk.
Maisie reminds me of my mom when she’s this way, and as much as I want to be annoyed, I can’t help but like it. It makes me feel warm, almost like my mother’s arms are wrapping around me in a comforting hug… laced with an interrogation.
“You’re going to tell me, Baylor. This is not like you, not at all.”
Shaking my head from side to side, I stare at her for a moment.
I don’t want to tell her anything. Because I don’t want to make her mad, make her feel bad, or anything like that.
And I know if I tell her that I’ve fallen head over goddamn heels for Emily Brown, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
There’s just no way that this could end up a happy family. Not when I know Emily and my brother had a whole thing together.
“It doesn’t matter, Maisie. Trust me.”
“It does if you’re getting plastered and you can’t even make your way home. Who is she?”
My gaze narrows, and I lean forward. My eyes searching hers, I try to make it very freaking clear that I am being serious when I say this. I want to drive this point home to her. She needs to understand that she can’t know.
“It doesn’t matter, Maisie. It’s over.”
She leans in closer, her eyes never leaving mine.
“It does matter, Baylor. You being happy matters. I know everyone in town, and if you’re not telling me, there’s a big reason.
A gigantic one. And I want to know what it is so that I can tell you not to freaking worry about it.
Because you finding someone you actually want to be with, who has you this tied up in knots? No way could I let it be over.”
“Maisie,” I whisper, “trust me. You don’t want to know, and it doesn’t matter because it’s over.”
Saying those words makes my stomach flip-flop, threatening to upchuck. Bringing the black coffee to my lips, I attempt to buy myself a little time because she’s staring at me, wanting to get this information out of me. Wordlessly demanding it.
Knowing that if I don’t answer her, she’s going to sic Beckett on my ass, I decide to just tell her.
“Emily Brown.”