by Dana Mason
“Bubbles,” she said longingly. “Yes, please.”
She sat up and slid off the bed to go to the bathroom. She had a big black boot on her injured foot, which was stupid. It was only a cut, but the doctor said it would keep her from banging it on things for a few days, and she’d be able to walk.
She stomped into the bathroom and plopped down on the toilet seat.
“You’re supposed to stay horizontal.”
She lifted both eyebrows and said, “I can’t have you carrying me everywhere.”
“After this bath, you’re going to bed.”
“You’re bossy.”
“Bossy is the only way to get through to you sometimes.” When the tub was full, Ryan shut the water off and stood over her with a look of pure fear. “Can you get in the tub yourself, or do I need to help you?”
“I think I can do it. You’ve seen enough of my nakedness.”
His face relaxed, and he nodded. “Be careful, please. I’m going to clean up the blood on the floor.”
She carefully pulled all her clothes off and the big, stupid boot. She was still in the layers she wore on the boat, Ryan’s sweats with her dress underneath. She held his shirt to her face and inhaled, remembering the night before. God, he had felt good. She missed him just thinking about it. Her throat swelled, and she fought to swallow back her tears.
Ryan had been so sweet, his hands so deliberate and smooth. If only she’d drunk less so she could remember all of it. Patches of the night were crystal clear, like scenes from a movie: the look in his eyes, the feel of his skin against hers, her hands gliding through his silky hair. She almost wished she didn’t remember.
She could also recall the emotions that came with making love with her best friend. She’d never forget it for as long as she lived. It would haunt her forever. A blessed moment in her life she could never repeat, but would always remember.
She carefully lowered herself into the tub, and the scent of the lavender bubble bath seeped into her senses. Still, no amount of willing away the thoughts of the night before could make her stop regretting that she would never be able to touch Ryan again. She mourned it like she mourned her parents. How could one night change so much?
“Bay, are you okay?”
She held her breath and quickly wiped the tears from her face. Then she exhaled slowly to steady her voice. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Call me if you need help.”
She nodded then rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn’t see her. “I will.”
* * *
Ryan left her alone, stepping away from the bathroom, listening for sounds of distress. After a few moments, he went in search of cleaning supplies. When he stepped out into the hall, he scanned the space from one end to the other and fought the urge to throw up. So much blood. Who knew that much blood could come from one little freaking cut.
At the end of the hall, his gaze caught on a scattering of papers in the doorway of the music room. Ryan turned from the bloody mess and walked toward the room. His eyes jumped from the floor to the light switch. After hitting the switch, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Everything in the room had been tossed. Sheet music was scattered all over the floor. The books had all been knocked off the shelves. The drawers all sat open. Even the window seat lid was open. One of his acoustic guitars had a large shoeprint through it. Strings of wire littered the floor, and Ryan’s heart stopped. He turned, and, to his horror, the front panel on the piano was propped open. Ryan grimaced. “Shit!” Half of the center piano strings had been cut. “Mother fucker!” Not only cut, but cut out.
“Holy shit.” Ryan left the room and stood outside the bathroom for a moment, not sure what to do. “Bailey?”
“Yeah,” she murmured from the other side of the door.
“When you were here earlier, did you go into the music room at all?”
“No. Why?”
“Um…well…” Ryan scrubbed his face with his hands. He didn’t want to give her another thing to worry about, but he had to tell her. “Uh, no reason. Don’t worry about it.”
He walked away quickly, hoping that would pacify her for a while. After a quick pace up and down the hall, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called his dad. Since they’d been on the boat the night before, Ryan couldn’t even be sure when it had happened.
“Dad?”
“Yeah? Do you guys need me over there? Is Bailey okay?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. She’s fine. Taking a bath.” He stood in the doorway to the music room, his gaze darting around, looking at the mess. His eyes then went from window to window. The side window was closed, but he was pretty sure he’d left it cracked. He stepped over some debris and looked out. “You didn’t happen to notice anything happening over here last night, did you?”
“Anything like what? With all the fireworks and the neighboring parties, it was hard to hear anything. Why?”
“It looks like we’ve had another break-in.”
“How do you know?”
“The music room has been trashed, but it’s the only room I’ve been able to look at.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Ryan hit the disconnect button on his phone then stepped across the hall and into Bailey’s old room. There wasn’t a bed in this room since Bailey had taken it with her when she’d moved out a few years ago. The dresser drawers sat open, and some things had been tossed around, but nothing too serious. He then walked down the hall and into his room. Having just moved in, most of Ryan’s stuff was still in boxes. The boxes had been moved and opened, but not emptied. So they obviously had a while to look through shit.
Ryan heard the front door open and close, then his dad’s footsteps on the stairs. Ryan nodded at him when he stepped onto the landing.
“Did you call the police yet?” Vince asked.
“No. Not sure there’s much point. It’s not like they’re going to do anything but take a report.”
“Filing a report is important, Ryan.”
He exhaled heavily. “I know. I just don’t think this is something Bailey’s going to handle well.”
“She’s a big girl. You can’t protect her from everything.”
Ryan shook his head in irritation. “Right…” He pulled his phone back out and called the police to report the break-in.
* * *
Bailey lay there until the water grew cold. Then she stood, shivering as she stepped out of the tub. She wrapped a towel around herself and opened the door. The rush of cold air forced her entire body into a shivering fit. She went straight to her mother’s bed and crawled in, still wrapped in a towel. The cool sheets didn’t help at all. She took a deep breath and tried to relax until she heard several pairs of footsteps outside the bedroom door. She held her breath and listened.
Who the hell is out there with Ryan?
She reluctantly lifted the blankets and slid out of bed before limping over to lean her ear on the bedroom door. Several voices and then something that sounded like a police radio. Bailey jerked the door open and faced Ryan, standing there with his hands on his hips, staring down the hall. Bailey poked her head out and looked in the same direction. One police officer was staring into her old bedroom, and a second was staring into the music room.
Ryan looked over and met her eyes. His expression was apologetic.
“What the hell is going on?”
His eyes traveled down her body, and she realized she was still only draped in a bath towel. “Someone’s been in the house.” He turned into the room and guided her back to the bed. “Stay here, and I’ll get you some clothes.”
“Ryan.”
“Give me a sec. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, Ryan came back with a bundle of clothes in his arms. “Here, boxer shorts, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt. They’re probably way too big, but they’ll keep you warm. I’ll go fire up the heater if you need it.”
She shook her head. “No, no heater. This is fine.” She pulled the boxers on, wiggli
ng under the towel to get them over her hips, hoping she didn’t flash him in the process. “What happened?”
“It appears we’ve had another break-in.”
When Ryan averted his eyes, she dropped the towel, praying he didn’t turn around until she had the t-shirt on.
“All the bedrooms have been tossed except for this one.” Ryan glanced back at her. “At least that I can tell.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Bailey nearly fell over trying to force her injured foot into the sweatpants. Ryan reached out and grabbed her. He snatched the pants out of her hands and led her to the edge of the bed, where she sat down. He then leaned over and gently slid her feet in and tugged until she stood up and pulled them the rest of the way up over her hips.
“Thanks,” Bailey muttered. She hobbled over and opened the door.
Ryan came up behind her and whispered, “Please be careful on that foot.”
An officer approached and introduced himself. Bailey listened as he explained his theory as to how the intruder got inside the house. Her father used to worry about leaving the upstairs windows unlocked. He had even tried to explain to her mother the ease of breaking in with the canopy roof over the front porch and back patio. The officer explained it just as her father had all those years ago.
“…from the fence, to the garage roof, to the canopy roof, and into the open window. It’s really best to leave all the windows locked,” the officer chided, until Ryan interrupted him.
“I actually left the window open,” Ryan said.
“I get that it’s easy in hot weather, but it leaves the house unprotected,” Officer James repeated.
Bailey nodded. “Thank you, Officer. We’ll be more careful.”
After the police left, Bailey, Ryan, and Vince started cleaning up the mess. At least, Bailey tried to help until they bullied her back into bed. It was wholly unfair that she had to miss out on the cleaning, but she was exhausted, and the pain medication was starting to steal her senses.
She got back into her mother’s bed and tried to relax, but the image of her mother’s gutted piano kept resurfacing. She slowly concentrated on one body part at a time until her muscles relaxed. Still, she fought sleep, wanting to talk to Ryan before dozing off.
A while later, Ryan came in and said, “You okay in here?”
“Yeah…fine…but I want to talk to you, Ryan.”
“Not tonight.” His voice was cutting, and it hurt he wouldn’t let go of his anger long enough for them to hash out what had happened between them.
“You’re mad. I get it, and I apologized. I don’t know what else to do to make you listen to me.” Her teeth started chattering as the cold set in again. Even after spending over an hour in bed, she was still freezing. Or maybe it was the coldness Ryan was projecting.
He turned back around and clutched the bottom of the blanket, jerking it up and surprising her. He sat on the end of the bed and grabbed her injured foot and looked at the bandages, then gently slid a sock over it. “How does that feel?”
“Warmer, thank you.”
He slid another thick sock on the other foot, then lowered the blanket. “Call me if you need me or if it starts hurting. Don’t get up and walk around, okay?”
“No, not okay.” Her teeth started chattering again. “Stay and talk to me, damn it.”
Ryan stared at her for a few moments, watching her shiver. She felt like an idiot, and she was just about to tell him to forget it when he stepped closer and motioned for her to roll over.
When she turned to her side, he lay next to her and spooned her hips, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing to help warm her up. She tensed for a few seconds, but relaxed when his warmth seeped through her clothes.
“Oh, God, thank you.” She tried not to purr, but the warmth felt so good. She settled against him, enjoying the feel of him next to her. Images from the past day faded in and out of her vision: this morning, the look in his eyes when he pulled away from her, this evening, the hospital—it had been a long day. Ryan’s music room…her mother’s music…her books, her sheet music…her precious piano trashed. An overwhelming sadness struck her so hard, she couldn’t hold back her sobs.
“Don’t cry, Bay. Everything’s fine. It doesn’t look like anything was stolen.”
“I don’t want this weirdness between us. I’m sorry for everything. I already lost my mom. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
Ryan nodded against her. After a few seconds, he sighed and mumbled, “It was my fault. Not yours. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you on the boat.”
She shook her head violently. “No…my fault.”
He rested a hand on her cheek and kissed the back of her head. “It’s okay. We’re going to be fine.”
“You promise?” she asked through her broken cries.
“Yes, I promise.” He exhaled heavily into her hair. “Nothing’s changed, okay? And Bailey, you are never going to lose me.”
“Okay.”
It took a while for her crying to subside. When it did, she rolled over to look at him. “Ryan.”
“What, babe?” He brushed the hair off her face and used his thumb to wipe at her tears.
“I really miss my mom.” As soon as the words were out, her face crumbled again.
“I know, honey. I do, too.” He drew her to his chest, and she was so thankful to have him there with her.
* * *
Ryan planned to wait for her to cry herself to sleep, then sneak out of the room and leave her alone, but once she was breathing heavily into his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to move. Since the day of Helen’s passing, he couldn’t understand why Bailey hadn’t cried. It was as if she was in shock and couldn’t grieve. But now that she was, he felt helpless. He didn’t know what to do for her except be here when she needed him.
He lay there for a least an hour, listening to her sleep, then decided he was doing more harm than good by staying. He had his own heart to protect, and now that he knew nothing else could ever happen between them, he had to get over it and move on.
As gently as possible, he eased out from under her before tucking the blankets up to her chin. She was out cold. He turned to leave the room but stopped when he saw a letter poking out from inside her purse. He slipped it free, his stomach fluttering nervously when he laid eyes on the bloody fingerprints. It was the letter Bailey was holding when he’d found her. He unfolded it and read until his eyes skimmed, ‘and to have been able to keep her in our lives even after the circumstances under which she came to us.’ “What the hell does that mean? Is he referring to her abandonment?” Ryan whispered, not sure he believed it.
Ryan tiptoed over to the trunk to examine the scrapbooks and photos Bailey had been looking through, but they were gone. He lifted up quickly and shifted his gaze around the room.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. He walked into his bedroom and turned on his laptop. Why the hell would someone steal photo albums and scrapbooks?
He sat at his desk and started his search. There had to be something online about Baby Bailey.
For hours, Ryan searched for information. He read everything he could find online, even if it was just a repeat of the same information. Most of the articles were pretty much the same, and Patrick Morton wasn’t mentioned in any of them. They all focused on adorable Baby Bailey and how she was left in the snow until she was found by these pillars of society. But there was more to the story, obviously.
Ryan made a point to write down everything he thought he needed to research: the officers’ names, the names of every neighbor that had been interviewed, the names of the other relatives, and every address mentioned, including her parents’ old address.
Hours later, he looked out the window at the sun peeking through and yawned. He spent all night looking this shit up. He turned to the clock, then reached for his phone and called Mae.
“Hey, morning,” he said when she answered.
“It’s a little early for you, isn’t it? Don’t rock stars sleep
in?”
He chuckled. “Actually, we never go to bed.”
“Oh, right,” she said, and he heard the smile in her voice.
“I know Bay was supposed to come back to work this morning, but she won’t be in.”
“Why are you calling in for Bailey?”
“She hurt herself yesterday, and I had to take her to the emergency room.”
“Oh shit, is she okay? Do I need to come over? Where is she? Are you at her apartment?”
“No, her mom’s house. I didn’t want to leave her alone in her apartment. It’s not bad, but she has stitches in the bottom of her foot. She should stay horizontal for another day.”
“So what the hell happened?”
“There’s no story. She stepped on some glass. No biggie.”
“Okay, I’ll call Christine to cover her shift. Tell her I’ll bring her some lunch later.”
“Don’t forget mine.”
“What makes you think I’m bringing you food?” Again he heard the smile.
“Hey, I think Bailey’s going to need some more time off. Do you think you can handle the shop a little bit longer if need be?”
“Why?”
“She found some information about her mom and dad and wants to take a trip out to Wisconsin. It shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.”
Mae was silent for a moment, then said, “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m just trying to give you a heads-up. Not a big deal, Mae, but I thought I’d go ahead and reserve the airline tickets.”
“Fine, but it’s better if she goes during the week. We’ve been busy as hell on the weekends.”
“Yeah, that works better for me, too. Thanks. I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Okay, call me if she needs anything.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I just can’t explain it,” Bailey said. “It makes no sense.”
“I agree, but it’s becoming clear someone is either looking for the same information we’re looking for, or they’re trying to stop you from looking further.” Ryan shrugged. “There’s no other reason for someone to break into the house and steal a bunch of photo albums and scrapbooks.”
