He slipped outside and disappeared before I could offer a rebuttal. Was it impossible to attract a nice, easy going guy? Scratch that. I didn’t want to attract any guys at all. I just wanted to get through school and move on with my life. Was that really so hard?
Sonya was still off to the side, arguing with her grandmother about something. I debated telling her I was heading to bed or just trudging up the stairs alone. I yelped when a figure moved out of the shadows by the mailboxes. I nearly tripped over myself scurrying away as the shadow stepped forward.
“Are you starting a collection of frat boys now?” Baxter’s voice asked a second before he came into view.
“Baxter,” I hissed, “what are you doing down here?”
He held up the stack of mail in his hand. “Checking my mail, obviously.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“I’m waiting for something and I forgot to check earlier.”
“And it couldn’t wait until morning?” If I thought he cared in the least, I’d think he was waiting up for me. Maybe he always checked his mail in the middle of the night so none of the other residents would bother him. I really had no idea. I could picture him doing something like that, though.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Baxter said, an edge to his voice that surprised me.
Sonya hurried over toward us, starting when she saw Baxter. Instead of asking where he’d come from, she shook her head and turned to me. “Sorry, Grandma keeps hearing things. I swear she’s going senile. She said there’s something in the walls that’s keeping her up.” Rolling her eyes, she threw off her grandmother’s craziness. “You look exhausted. Why are you still standing here? Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
I felt Baxter move closer without having to look up to see his approach. There was a certain pressure behind his presence, one I found difficult to ignore. Having company sounded great, but Sonya staying over wouldn’t exactly make me feel safer. I’d be more anxious about her getting hurt because of me.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Are you sure?”
Pulling her into a hug, I thanked her for the offer and sent her toward her own apartment after she locked the main door. When I turned for the stairs, Baxter was waiting. He didn’t say anything as I started on my way up. I heard him shuffling through his mail as he fell in behind me. Only when we reached the second floor landing did he pull in front of me. He had his door unlocked and open by the time I made it there. Head down, I stepped inside and tried not to sigh in relief.
“I’ll get a first aid kit,” Baxter said. He tossed his mail on the counter and disappeared into the bathroom I had flooded what seemed like forever ago. Not sure what to do with myself, I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the wall. I was too tired to do anything else.
I jumped when Baxter pulled a chair out next to me. I hadn’t even heard him walk up. I watched as he set the kit on the table and sat down. He opened it and picked through until he found some antibiotic ointment, antiseptic wipes, and a few bandages. He left them on the table and gripped the sides of my chair. I reached for his arm to steady myself when he yanked me forward. My knees were barely an inch from smacking into his chair when he stopped, but he didn’t seem to notice that or my hand on his arm. I slipped it away quickly.
Baxter’s knees straddled mine as he leaned forward with a small wipe. I pulled back at the first touch, hissing at the sting. He sighed, grabbed my chin, and pulled me forward. I tried not to flinch the second time. Not that it mattered, because he had a hold of my face as he cleaned the dried blood off my cheek. His grip lightened, but didn’t disappear as he applied the ointment. Setting the tube back on the table, Baxter’s gaze met mine for a moment and the hand he was pulling away from my chin paused.
He looked away a moment later and tore the paper packaging off the bandage. Then, it was pressed against my cheek. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked in that moment, but Baxter didn’t crack a smile. “Where else are you hurt?”
I contemplated telling him that was it, but if he’d been watching my exchanges with Sean and Puck, he’d seen the pain I’d felt every time I moved my torso. “Ribs.”
He didn’t question me about what happened. I figured he would eventually, but was more interested in patching me up than hearing the latest installment of the Eliza Carlisle Accident Reports. Seeming to prove that theory correct, he pushed his chair back and disappeared into his bedroom. I sat there in silence, not thinking or moving. When Baxter reappeared, he was carrying a rolled up, brown elastic bandage.
“What is that for?” I asked.
Baxter gave me an annoyed glare. “Look, I’m not a doctor. If you wanted professional care, you should have gone to the E.R. I cracked a rib once and they wrapped my chest with one of these. I doubt you have anything that serious, but it helps keep you from twisting and bending too much.”
“Okay,” I said in defense. “I was just curious.”
Grunting at my not-so-apologetic tone, Baxter focused on unclipping the metal fastener on the bandage roll. “It will be better if it’s under your shirt.”
“Oh,” I said. “Sure, yeah.”
I felt heat blossom in my chest at the thought of exposing that much skin to Baxter, but even more than that I dreaded having to raise my arms. My ribs ached from being squashed against and thrown into the wall. Having my arm wrenched behind my back left my shoulder sore as well. Not wanting to continue hurting like this trumped embarrassment and pain. So when Baxter gestured for me to lift my arms, I tried to do as he asked without complaining. I got about halfway before stiffness and pain stopped me.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Baxter without meeting his gaze. “I can’t…”
His warm hands spread across my sides. My breathing hitched, fearing pain but embracing the comfort his help brought. “Don’t apologize,” he grumbled.
He gently pushed my shirt up to the edge of my bra and asked me to hold it there with my uninjured arm. It was a relief to let my other arm drop, but Baxter pushed it back up a little and reached around me with the bandage. I groaned at the tightness of the first loop, then bit the inside of my cheek to stop from doing it again each time he wound the wrap. By the time he finished, it felt difficult to breath, but the pain of every little movement had dulled as promised.
“Thank you,” I said, a little breathless. “That feels a lot better.”
“What about your shoulder?”
“It’s just sore.”
Baxter stood and disappeared again. When he returned with what looked like a white cloth, I wondered what it was for. He peeled a clear layer away from the cloth and took his time placing it on my shoulder, smoothing it over the muscles surrounding the joint. I was pleasantly surprised when a prickly cold soaked into my skin and began easing away the tension.
“It’ll turn warm in a little while. When that stops, you can take it off. They help a lot for muscle strains,” Baxter said. He settled back into his chair, his bight green eyes piercing straight through me. “Tell me what happened.”
He didn’t get mad or yell at me, or tell me it was my fault this time. The only indication we were talking about something more serious than what he had for dinner was the strain he put his jaw through clenching it so hard. Surprised by his lack of yelling, I found myself telling not only the events of the night, but about all my suspicions as well. I even told him about the newspaper clippings and Lucas’s phone. Surprisingly, his first question wasn’t about either of those.
“Nobody knows where Mouser is, still?”
“Who?”
“The cat. Nobody’s seen her since the murder?” Baxter asked. “I thought Sonya must have been taking care of her.”
I shrugged. “Not that anyone’s saying. Sonya hasn’t seen her. We can only guess she slipped out when the killer snuck into the apartment.”
Baxter rubbed his chin, then closed his eyes. “It’s late. We both need some
sleep.”
He stood and offered me his hand. I hesitated a moment before taking it. I realized why he offered when I tried to stand and nearly gave up halfway through. Between the wrap and my body complaining, I would have preferred to sleep at the table. Baxter got me the rest of the way. He gestured toward the master bathroom and said, “Your toothbrush is still in there somewhere. Not the green one. That’s mine.”
I nodded, surprised he hadn’t tossed it the second I left last time. Shuffling into the bathroom, I realized somewhere was in the toothbrush holder, with his. I thought that might be a little odd, but where else was he going to put it. Apparently he suspected I would need it again. Sighing, I wondered how long he would keep it, how long until his already limited patience with me ran out and he tossed me and my toothbrush.
By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, Baxter was pulling back the blankets on his perfectly made bed. I was halfway to the bed that I was eager to collapse onto when I noticed he was now wearing loose sweat pants and a t-shirt. I looked down at my dirty and torn clothes. Sonya’s leggings were ruined, holes in the knees from when I fell, but the top might have been salvageable. I was too busy studying the pulled threads to hear Baxter walk up.
“Here,” he said, making me jump, “you might be more comfortable in this.”
My hands reached out on instinct when he tossed it to me. He was closing the bathroom door before I realized it was one of his t-shirts. I really could have used a shower after being tossed around in a gross alley, but a clean shirt sounded better than nothing. Figuring my top would be the most difficult, I started pulling my shirt over my head from the back. It was a method that required less arm movement if I leaned my head forward. It was going pretty well until the neck caught on my ponytail.
Tugging harder, I tipped my head forward a little more, hoping it would slide off. It didn’t. Trying again, I thought maybe I could loosen the ponytail with my tugging. That didn’t work either. So I was stuck inside my shirt, hunched over like Quasimodo, and swearing under my breath when I heard the bathroom door pop open.
I expected shouting. Instead, I got ridicule. “What are you doing?” Baxter said while having a good laugh at my expense.
Distracted by the rich tone of his laughter and the fact that I was pretty sure it was the first time I’d ever heard it, it took me a minute to respond. “I got stuck.”
“No kidding,” Baxter said, still laughing at me.
He was by my side a moment later, unhooking the neckline of my top from my hair and sliding it the rest of the way over my head. I didn’t consider what Baxter helping me out of my jam would mean until I had the shirt in my hands and was standing in front of him in my bra…and the bandage. Wanting to die of embarrassment, I was too flustered to do anything about it.
“Are you going to put that on?” Baxter asked, pointing at the shirt he’d given me. His voice sounded as even as ever, but I could have sworn there was a hint of red creeping up his neck.
Scrambling, carefully, I snatched the shirt off the bed and quickly shoved my arms through the sleeves. I lifted my arms, got stuck about halfway, and felt my face grow red when Baxter stepped in once again. He had my shirt—his shirt—settled into place a second later. His hand pressed lightly to my lower back and he gave me a push toward the bed.
Message received loud and clear, I climbed into his bed and slowly leaned back to rest my head on the pillows. It was impossible not to breathe in the scent of whatever cologne or aftershave he wore. I wanted to ask him what it was, but didn’t think he’d appreciate my prying.
“Do you want me to stay in here again?”
I started to nod without thinking, then shook my head with more tenacity. An emotional war burst to life and I stopped doing either. Logically, I knew how unlikely it was that someone would come after me here. My life had stopped being logical the moment I set foot in this place. Worse than Officer Williams grabbing me, worse than when the intruder hit Sean after missing me, being purposely targeted and dragged out to an alley to be hurt and threatened had terrified me.
Baxter saw it in my eyes. He moved toward the chair, but I shook my head. “That can’t be comfortable.” Saying I’d be fine without a babysitter was on the tip of my tongue, stuck there.
His gaze moved to the bed. “I don’t think you’d be comfortable with the alternative.”
“I trust you,” I said without thinking. My eyes widened as the words hit my ears, but I realized they weren’t untrue. Baxter could be egotistical and intimidating and infuriating, but he wouldn’t hurt me. And I was scared to sleep alone.
For several long seconds, Baxter just stood there. I thought maybe he was going to tell me to grow up. Then, he walked around to the other side of the bed and turned off the bedside lamp that had been lighting the room. I wriggled out of my bra in the darkness to alleviate the way it was bunching up the bandage and pinching my skin. I shoved it under the pillow as I felt Baxter lay down on the bed. After that, I didn’t move a single muscle.
“I think Mouser is still in the building,” Baxter said, showing how far apart our minds were in that moment.
“Why?” I didn’t know if he would hear me, my voice was so soft.
“She despised the outside world, same as her owner. If Mouser escaped the apartment, she wouldn’t go outside.” Baxter shifted, making me freeze. “That evil creature is still hanging around here somewhere.”
We fell back into silence. I’d never even seen Mouser, let alone had the chance to debate her status on the spectrum of good and evil. I wasn’t even sure it mattered where the little beast had gotten to. It was a curiosity, one of many. My eyelids began drooping, my thoughts wandering as exhaustion finally took over.
“You have a nice laugh,” I told Baxter before succumbing to sleep.
15: Repentant Tone
I woke up alone. Clinking noises came from the kitchen, filtering in through the partially open door of the bedroom. The shades were drawn. In the half-light, I couldn’t tell how early or late it was. What I could tell, was that I was no longer on the same side of the bed I’d started on. I froze, wondering how that had happened. If I’d somehow rolled myself over to Baxter to snuggle, I would die. If he had been the one to move…I wasn’t sure what I thought about that.
Maybe I’d been in pain and he tried to comfort me. Maybe he just moved around a lot when he slept and that made me shift. It was possible I pushed him around. Bernadette always complained about sharing a bed when we were little. That could have been why he got up before me, to escape my kicking. I sank back into the pillow and groaned. Neither option was good, and liable to put Baxter in a terrible mood.
There was nothing for it except to face the music and make as quick of an exit as I could. Figuring I might as well get it over with, I tugged the twisted blankets off my legs and sat up. Well, I got about halfway before a high pitched squeal of pain burst out of me and I stopped moving. Baxter appeared in the doorway before my head hit the pillow again. The smirk on his face matched his crossed arms.
“Forgot about your ribs, huh?”
“Shut up.”
Baxter leaned against the doorjamb. “Every time you open your mouth, you amaze me with how mature you are.” He rolled his eyes. I stuck out my tongue.
Walking over to the bed, Baxter extended his hand. I reached for it, but when he took hold of me, he didn’t pull me up. A calculating look spread across his features. “Curious how you fell asleep on that side and woke up on this one.”
I could have burst into flames right then. A fiery blush erupted all over my entire body. Completely immobilized, I sat there with my hand in his, mouth open, and absolutely speechless. Baxter’s smirk morphed into a smile that made my stomach sink. Please, please let me have kicked him relentlessly until I pushed my way onto his side.
“As hurt as you were, I didn’t think I’d have to worry about you clobbering me in your sleep,” Baxter said. His hand still held mine and I wasn’t at all prepared for him to pull me
to my feet in one swift motion. I fell against his chest. He didn’t push me away. I righted myself and stepped back quickly.
I didn’t think I could have been any more red or mortified to a higher degree, but then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it toward me. I stared at the image of my arm looped over Baxter’s chest, head on his shoulder, drool pooling on his shirt, and just the edge of my knee crossed over his hips. Baxter was clearly awake, reaching his arm up to take a selfie of the two of us. Embarrassment gave way to shock and dread.
“You took a picture? Why?”
He smirked and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “Blackmail,” he said. “Next time you get some bright idea to play a prank on me, I’m sending that to Bernadette.”
I scrambled for a response. “She’d…she’d just blame you. You’d be in trouble. Not me. As much.”
“Oh yeah? What about when I tell her about Sean on his way up to your apartment, or Puck feeling you up, or how about you making out with Sean on the dance floor.” He shrugged, the movement clipped. “Anyone else you want to add to the list? I thought you came here for school, not to sleep around with every guy you meet.”
For a moment, I was too stunned to say anything. Then, I was ready to kill him. “I haven’t slept with anyone,” I said, shocked he would say that to me. “Last night was the closest I’ve come to sex with anyone in…in five years. Not that I have to explain that to you, or justify it if I do sleep with someone. You are not my father, Baxter.”
“Father?” Baxter said through his teeth. I stumbled back against the bed in the face of his sudden anger. He followed, toe to toe until he was so close I nearly fell back onto the bed. “Father?” he hissed again. “I am five years older than you, Eliza Carlisle. You may act like you’re twelve half the time, but…” His teeth ground together and cut off his words.
“I wasn’t talking about how old you are,” I snapped. “I’m talking about you bossing me around and judging my every decision, blaming me for every bad thing that happens and watching me like I’m a little kid all the time. Bernadette keeps saying you’re a good guy and I should trust you, but being around you just makes me feel like a stupid, silly little girl who should have stayed hidden away in her bakery where no one could hurt her like this or like the guy who threw me around last night.”
Trouble Magnet Page 15
