This is the wrong thing to say by the look on her face. But she doesn’t explode. She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she walks back into my room and I stand in the doorway, leaning on the frame, watching as she sets my shirt on the upholstered bench at theend of the bed (which is also new. I didn’t have one of these before I left for Italy).
She proceeds to carefully lift each of the bottom corners up before she carefully folds the ends toward the middle of the bed. She walks up to the head of the bed and adjusts pillows on one side, then climbs up, her sweet peach of an ass up in the air as she stretches to do the same on the other side. She falls forward, grunts, and gets back on her hands and knees, making me adjust my package with discomfort.
Returning her focus to what she was doing, she carefully folds the bedspread in an attempt to save all the rose petals. She puts the folded bedspread on the top of my long dresser. I see the comforter I made the bed with the other day is still on the bed so I won’t have to get another.
Is it a good thing that she attempted to preserve it? A positive sign, finally?
I’m still leaned against the doorframe, watching. She walks toward me, staring at the floor with red eyes and damp cheeks before she slips by, heading into the bathroom with my flannel shirt.
It’s still storming outside and there’s dampness in the air so I shut the bedroom window and stare outside seeing the bonfire across the river, the male bodies surrounding it, the arm wrestling match happening between Cade and Linc at a picnic table. I fall into a daze for a minute before I move to the gas fireplace in the corner of the room, turning it on.
Bailey walks in, climbs up onto my side of the bed and gets under the covers before she takes her glasses off and turns her back to me.
I turn the lights out and peel my clothes off to my boxers before I get in on the wrong side of the bed.
“Wish I could hold you,” I say softly.
This results in an audible sob from her as she fails at holding emotion in.
I grit my teeth, regretting opening my mouth.
“I’d go sleep on that couch, but I can’t even imagine how many females you’ve screwed on it,” she states coldly. “Not at all shocked you’re not being a gentleman and sleeping on it yourself. Then again, this bed’s probably worse than the couch. Here I am lying on ground zero of your manwhor–”
“I bought this bed two weeks ago. Nobody’s slept in it but me,” I tell her. “New bedding and pillows too. Tossed my old sheets out.”
She doesn’t say anything.
I add, “I figured if it didn’t happen while I was away then it wouldn’t be long after. If you want, we can move into Rye’s old room. It’s bigger anyway.”
“But it doesn’t have a fireplace,” she mutters, then starts ranting.
“You probably figured it’d be Dani. Probably hoped it was her you’d get to bring to this nice, new bed. Impress her with thosehis and herstowels.”
“My mom and sisters must’ve put those hooks and towels up. Decorated to welcome you. But I’m not gonna lie to you, Bay,” I say. “So, you might want to stop going there with me. It’s pretty fucking clear I had no idea it’d be you. I didn’t know who it’d be. Figured it’d probably be a stranger since the first four mated with females who weren’t part of this pack.”
“How about if we not talk at all? I’ve got a wine headache. I need to close my eyes.”
“Red wine and cookies for dinner. No wonder you’re feeling shitty. I’ll make you some food and get you some headache pills.”
“I’m not hungry. I’m gonna sleep.”
I get out of bed and go downstairs to make food for her anyway. And to get her some pills and a glass of water. Because I need to do something.
I open my freezer for some ice and it’s nearly full of food. I open the fridge door and it’s stocked, too. Seeing what’s here, I’d say it was coordinated by my mother but with some help from Taylor and Dad.
Taylor was raised like my oldest sister, but she’s technically Dad’s cousin. My parents adopted her at eight years old while I was a toddler after her parents were killed in a car wreck. Dad and Tay are both excellent cooks. A smile tugs at my mouth, thinking on how my folks likely argued the entire time working in the kitchen on this stuff. Or, more likely, Dad chased Mom out by pretending he needed something at the supermarket so he could cook in peace rather than listen to her bitching about the mess he was making. Undoubtedly, when he vacated the kitchen she cussed him out because it took her hours to clean up after him.
I haven’t spoken to them since everything kicked off. I’ve had calls and texts from Mom, Dad, Taylor, and my youngest sister Gwen. Nothing from Sherry, though I’m not surprised about that. Sherry and I haven’t ever been buddies the way I’m tight with Tay and Gwen. She’s always been bitchy, up her own ass. Of course I’ve done shit for her, despite all that. But these days she’s in a different headspace because of being mated to that prick Wyatt Meadows.
I haven’t been in the headspace to return calls or texts, but I’ll make sure to remedy that soon.
I don’t have any bread to make Bailey a sandwich. They probably knew I was staying at the Blackwood place so didn’t leave anything likely to spoil. I nuke a frozen TV dinner that was already in the freezer before my family stocked us up. When the microwave beeps, I carry it and the drink upstairs.
“Bailey?”
She’s asleep.
I linger for a minute, taking in the vision of Bailey Blackwood sleeping in my bed, wearing my shirt. And despite how fucked up this has been so far, something in me feels like this is how it was always supposed to be. And it’s a strange sensation. One that pisses me off. Because I wish I’d had a clue a few months ago, so I could’ve saved us both all this angsty bullshit.