Believing Bailey by Linda Kage
“Bathroom,” I admitted ruefully.
He nodded. “Behind the shower curtain?”
“Yep.”
“Ah.” Snapping his fingers, he said, “I knew it.” Then he frowned slightly and tipped me a sideways glance. “But why were you running from me in the first place?”
“Because I was looking for…” Well, it didn’t matter who I’d been looking for now. “And you were drunk and annoying and I didn’t want to deal with you, so it seemed like an easier plan to just avoid you.”
His eyebrows arched, probably surprised by my blunt honestly, but he didn’t seem offended. Usually people were offended when I spoke my mind. It kind of warmed my soul that Beckett wasn’t. “Well, I guess that makes sense,” was all he said before, squinting and asking, “Who were you looking for again? I can’t remember.”
When he glanced at me, I refused to answer. He squinted even more before snapping his fingers. Then his eyes grew wide and his mouth opened, but no words came.
“Yeah…” I said slowly. “Him.”
The fucking bastard cowboy.
Beckett cringed. “You must know Melody then too, huh? Was she…? I mean, are you two friends?”
I snorted. “Hell, no. And no again, I had no clue who she was when she walked into that room. I didn’t even know her brother. I was just trying to catch up with him so I could meet him, because I thought he was…” I sighed. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”
Appearing regretful, Beckett bit his lip. “Sorry. I guess I ruined that for you, didn’t I, because that’d be an awkward introduction if you did meet him now. Hey, I’m the girl who outed your lying sister. You come here often?”
I huffed out an amused sound, because he’d been not-far from the mark. But then I sobered, remembering exactly how close to the mark he’d been. “Yeah,” I murmured. “Well, we did meet, and it was awkward.”
Beckett zipped his gaze my way only for some kind of realization to slimmer through his eyes. “That’s right. Max said you two got into it.” He winced. “It was a pretty bad confrontation, huh?”
“He spit on me.”
“Really? Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” I muttered. “I blame his sister. And him. Nasty family, those Fairfields.”
Beck bit his lip as if he wanted to smile and agree but figured it was probably a bad time to do so. “Well, thank you for defending me to him.”
I shrugged and slumped even more into my seat until my restraining belt was nearly around my neck. “It was stupid of me to be so eager to meet him,” I rolled my eyes, “just because I have some dumb cowboy fetish.”
We were both silent a minute before Beckett cleared his throat. “Would it make you feel better to know he’s from the city?”
Frowning, I turned to narrow my eyes at him. “Excuse me?”
Beck shrugged. “Chance. The cowboy. He’s a fake. I mean, he was. When he started at Granton, he was a total city slicker, never even been on a horse or seen a farm in real life.” He rolled his eyes. “But one day, I guess he just up and decided he wanted to ride bulls in the rodeo, so he changed his whole persona. To be fair, he’s tried really hard since then to be country, but…” With another lift of the shoulders, Beckett let me know it was all a guise.
I gaped at him unable to believe my ears. Unable to believe any of it. “But…But…” I’d chased him for a year, thinking he was totally genuine. “His accent,” I argued.
Huffing out an amused sniff, Beck grinned. “Yeah. That’s put on to get chicks.” When my mouth fell open, he glanced at me and grinned wider, “Guess it works, huh?”
“That fucking bastard,” I breathed, making Beck laugh aloud. I scowled at him. “Why is this so funny to you?”
His grin dropped. “Sorry, sorry,” he gushed. “It’s just…sorry.” He lifted one hand off the steering wheel to seek peace. “It gives me a personal thrill every time he loses an admirer. Damn fake gets more pussy than he should.”
Still scowling at him, I crossed my arms over my chest. I don’t know if I was so upset because I’d fallen for the “cowboy’s” fake front or because Beckett seemed so gleeful about my stupidity. “I should’ve known he wasn’t real,” I muttered, deriding myself even as I glared at the driver. “I mean; the guy was in a freaking fraternity. What true country boy would be in an icky, gross fraternity?”
Beck sent me an odd glance and his mouth opened as if he wanted to naysay me. But then he pressed his lips back together, probably remembering he was no longer in a fraternity himself and therefore didn’t need to loyally defend it or its members.
“But enough about that,” I spoke up. “When are you going to stop avoiding the subject of your family and tell me what’s going on there? We’re probably already halfway to their place; don’t you think it’d be wise for me to know what kind of mess I’m going to be walking into with you, so I don’t step into some sticky, taboo topic by accident. Because if you must know, I’m pretty awesome as shoving my foot right into my mouth pretty much every time I talk.”
“Yeah,” he admitted on a harassed sigh. “Shit, yeah, you should probably know what’s going on.”
But then he didn’t speak, and I lifted my eyebrows and both hands before saying, “Any time now. You have a captive audience.”
“Damn,” he hissed under his breath before whipping off his ball cap and scratching the back of his head, and then fitting it back onto his scalp. “My parents really aren’t in a situation where they can support an accused rapist because this summer my sixteen-year-old sister Brittany really was raped.” He glanced significantly at me before quietly adding, “And no one believed her. Well, except me and my parents. The guy—her attacker is a pretty big deal in our area. His dad is my dad’s boss, actually. Er, he was my dad’s boss. Dad kind of lost his job over the whole thing.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Beck, that’s…oh my God, that’s so shitty.”
He nodded. “It was my fault Dad lost his job. His boss had convinced Britt and my parents to keep it quiet. But I…” He shrugged. “I just couldn’t. That motherfucker destroyed her. She stopped talking, stopped eating, began to have these nervous breakdowns. She holed herself up in her room and wouldn’t come out. They finally put her into a mental health facility after she tried to kill herself.”
“Oh God.” I covered my gaping mouth with my hands.
“The rape kit they did on her showed signs of extreme force, but the prick just claimed she asked for it rough.” Beck shook his head and clenched his teeth. “I couldn’t let that go. How could I fucking let that go?” He looked at me with hard eyes as if he expected me to actually answer.
I shook my head, agreeing, “You couldn’t.”
He nodded. “So I beat the fucking shit out of him.” His chin trembled and voice cracked as he finished, “And Dad got fired.”
“Damn.” I didn’t know what else to say as Beck took a couple seconds to get himself under control. He cleared his throat and wiped the back of his hand across his cheek. “Freshly out of work and my Dad had to spend fifteen hundred dollars to bail me out of jail. They were already getting swamped under with the extra care they were paying to get Britt some help. None of the charges against me stuck since that prick had swung first, but it had already caused enough damage. Mr. Raider pulled some strings and my dad still can’t find anyone to hire him. Mom’s pay at the hair salon where she works certainly isn’t covering all the bills. I offered to take off school this semester to get a job to help with everything, but they still weren’t too happy with me. They told me to go back to Granton at the beginning of the semester and not get into any more trouble.” Beckett sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth. “But going to classes and keeping up with the fraternity like life was normal while I knew my family was going into crisis mode, especially with some of it being my fault, sent me into a tailspin. I started drinking more than I should’ve, lost my girlfriend because I was so out of sorts, and I got reprimanded
He glanced at me, and his bright blue eyes seemed so watery and sad that I almost wanted to start crying for him.
“It’s not so much that I think they truly believe I’m a rapist now. This is more about whether they can deal with one more screw up from me. Instead of helping them through all this shit, I’ve only caused more problems. It would totally serve me right if they washed their hands of me completely.”
I nodded, understanding his concerns. I’d worry about how my dad would receive me after all that too. It didn’t matter if I was completely innocent of the crime or not. If I’d stupidly gotten myself into a bad situation, I could see him shaking his head in disappointment and muttering, “Well, you got yourself into this one, Bailey Rae. Now get yourself out.”
A sudden thought struck me. Frowning, I sent Beckett a sidelong glance. “Hey, if trying to convince them of your innocence isn’t what this trip is really about, then why am I coming with you?”
Beckett blew out a long breath and his shoulders fell a good two inches before he slid me a long, tired glance. “Believe it or not, you seem to be the only person who believes in me right now. And I’m scared to death. I have no idea what they’re going to do when I show up on their doorstep.” He shook his head, his throat constricting as he swallowed. “I can’t face them alone,” he admitted. “I need your support.”
Chapter 16
BECKETT
The silence that filled the cab after confessing to Bailey Prescott what a damn coward I was kind of unnerved me.
But then she shrugged and said “Oh,” so matter of factly that I had to blink. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”
I shook my head slowly, not sure how to answer. She seemed so blunt and open and honest, and no-big-deal about it that I decided to go the same route. “Asking you to come with me and hold my hand while I faced my mommy and daddy because I was too scared to do it by myself sounded pretty lame to me. And besides, I’m basically a complete stranger to you. We only met once, and that one encounter landed you in a whole mess of problems. I seem to get everyone around me mixed up in the worst kinds of situations, so it’d actually be smart of you to stay away from me. I didn’t think the complete truth would help my cause any.”
Bailey nodded as if thinking that through. “Makes sense,” she said. Then her entire brow crinkled. “Wait. I don’t have to literally hold your hand, do I? Because,” she shook her head emphatically, wrinkling her nose. “I’m not much of a hand-holder.”
I laughed. It wasn’t at all a laughing situation. But this girl had managed to make me laugh. “No,” I told her. “We definitely don’t literally have to hold hands.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Cool.” But then she began to chew on her thumbnails. “So how much farther now?”
I focused on where we were. Shit. “A couple miles,” I realized. “Maybe five.”
She nodded and repeated, “Cool.”
Cool. Not quite the word I would’ve used. I would’ve gone more with holy shit or I think I’m going to puke.
I straightened my hat and arched the bill under my palm so it would arch just right.
“You’re nervous,” Bailey said.
I sent her a distracted glance. “What?”
She motioned to her own forehead. “You’re playing with your hat. You did that earlier. That means you’re nervous, right?”
Dropping my hand and clearing my throat, I readjusted myself in my seat. “I don’t know. I’ve never noticed before.”
“Yep, you’re definitely nervous,” she stated definitively.
I sent her a brief scowl for making it so clearly obvious because her saying it aloud ramped up the nerves in me until they were at hyper-fear. Then I turned down the dirt road to my farm.
Bailey straightened in her seat, looking around, not that she could see much, it was full night now, and a dark moonless night at that. “This is a dirt road,” she blurted the obvious, spinning in her seat to gape at me. “You live in the country.”
I didn’t answer. Her declaration didn’t seem like something that needed answering.
She blinked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “What did you say your dad did again?”
I hadn’t said. “He worked at an implement store, selling large farm equipment. He was there for twenty-two years.”
“Holy hell,” she breathed, still ogling me.
I glanced at her frowning. “What?”
But she only shook her head. “Nothing.” She shook her head one more time and went back to staring strangely out the window.
I turned my truck into our long driveway and started fiddling with my hat again. When Bailey glanced at me with raised eyebrows, I sneered irritably at her and dropped my hand, snapping, “I can’t help it, okay?”
She shrugged. “Then keep playing with it. Doesn’t bother me.” She said it simply as she leaned forward to peer up at our farm, where my parents’ two-story house rose from the top of a slight hill and the driveway wound a circle around it. “So bizarre,” she murmured.
“What is?” I asked, finding a good spot to stop and kill the engine. Pepper, our old collie, starting barking from around the corner of the house and I could barely make out his white and brown coat of fur darting through the night toward my truck.
Bailey blinked at him as if seeing a ghost. “It’s all just so strangely similar to my home. Two-story house out in the middle of nowhere, sitting on a hill. We even have a dog. Humphrey’s a Labrador, though.”
I nodded. “We had a cholate lab before Pepper. Her name was Sal.”
Bailey seemed dazed as he met my gaze. “Humphrey’s a yellow.”
“They claim those are supposed to be the smartest,” I murmured, not sure what else to say.
Pepper reached the truck and jumped up onto the driver’s side door. I heard his claws dig into the paintjob, and I began to cringe until I remembered, oh right, it didn’t matter. My baby was scratched all to hell anyway.
“Seriously, who are you?” Bailey blurted, making me raise my eyebrows at her.
“What do you mean?”
“The first night I met you, I took you for a preppy, rich city boy whose big, important daddy was probably paying your way through pre-med or something.”
I made a face. “Really? Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Because you…your…” She jabbed her hand my way as if her stuttering and fumbling motions made all the sense in the world. “And the fact you’re in a fraternity,” she finished, dropping her hand.
I grinned. She was so clueless it was actually cute. With a small shake of my head, I said, “You need to get out more.” Then maybe she’d learn not everything was so black and white or even so clichély stuffed into neat, recognizable little groups.
Poor Bailey and her preconceived notions about things.
Still shifting my head back and forth and unable to stop smiling over her utter naivety, I pushed open and door and jumped out to scratch Pepper under the chin when he planted his front paws onto my hip. “Hey, boy. I missed you.”
At least he was glad to see me, which reminded me where I was and what I was doing here. Suddenly sober again, I gulped and looked up at the darkened porch of my childhood home. I’m not sure how long I stood there, unable to move. But Bailey’s voice from next to me jarred me from my reserve when she said, “Well, hi there, big fellow. Aren’t you a friendly thing. Yes, you are.”
I glanced over to find Pepper loving on her, his paws nearly resting on her boobs, as she scratched him vigorously behind the ears.
“Pepper,” I reprimanded, grabbing his collar and pulling him off her. “Down. No jumping on visitors.”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Bailey reassured even as she dusted paw prints off her stomach. “He reminds me of Humphrey. Never met a human he didn’t love.”
“Yeah. That’s Pepper for sure.” I petted his coat, though my gaze strayed toward the h
When I didn’t move, just kept petting the dog, Bailey cleared her throat. “Well, shall we?” She made a sweeping motion toward the front porch.
I sighed and barely took my hat off before resettling it on my head. “Yeah. I guess.” But I just couldn’t make myself start walking.
Bailey groaned. “Dammit, Bucket,” she muttered, grabbing my arm. “Get your ass into gear already.” She marched forward, pretty much dragging me along with her. “They’re your parents. What do you think they’re going to do; stab you in the heart with a meat clever? Geez Louise.”
Up the porch she went, forcing me to trip along behind her. When we reached the front entrance, she raised her hand and knocked on the door before I could even catch my breath.
“Holy shit,” I gasped. She’d already knocked on the door. This was happening. This was really happening, right now, whether I was ready or not.
I don’t think I was ready. “Holy shit,” I said again, my breathing bursting out of control and my vision graying in and corners. “What if…what if—”
“Hey.” Bailey took my hand and squeezed my fingers, making me zip my attention to our clasped hands. I distinctly remembered her saying she didn’t want to hold my hand, so I looked up at her with confusion. But her gray eyes were nothing but steady and concerned when she quietly ordered, “Just breathe.”
I breathed, and my vision blinked back to full focus.
The front door opened, spreading light from inside out onto the porch. I let go of Bailey’s hand and blinked into the brightness until I made out my mother’s form.
My mom. She’d read me bedtime stories and cooked me chicken noodle soup when I’d been sick. I’d sat on her lap on Christmas Eve’s trying to stay awake late so I could get a look at Santa Claus and I’d had my knuckles swatted by her when I’d tried to steal turkey early on Thanksgiving. She’d raised me and clothed me and taught me and loved me. I just wanted to rush to her and hug her and let all the bad shit in my life melt away.