Page 55 of The Gift
“You’re one hundred percent right,” I confess, locking down all the questions about the matter. Well, trying to. “But, Bailey, please think about one day sharing that with me. And that’s not because of some macabre fascination of what you went through. It’s because you need to know from someone else how fucking incredible a feat that is.”
She pulls her head away from me, and I think I’ve fucked this up completely.
“I did what I had to survive. That’s all.”
“You did more than survive.” I step up, crowding her against the wall. I wouldn’t at all if she had ghosts in her eyes, but they’re gone. Guess it really might be our time.
“I don’t know…” She squeezes her hand on my hip. And it feels like it should have always been there.
“Enough. Like you said, that’s not what now is about.”
“Good. Because the more time I’ve had to think about it, the more we talk, the less time we have to do whatever this is.”
“Agreed. But don’t forget what a privilege you are giving us. To be able to show you even for a while what life is like when you enjoy who you are. Jesus, Bailey, I’m beside myself. I have no problem showing you the magic of a good knot, the seduction of a perfume and the anchoring feel of a pack.” I lean in closer, resting my elbow against the wall, and there’s no mistaking our smaller touches now.
“Is that what you do? Enjoy who you are?” her thumb rubs over my back, gently.
“Mostly. And for the days I don’t or can’t, my pack helps. And we’re going to help you. Let’s make a deal, we’ll get everyone in here, but we all leave our inhibitions at the door. You let us be the ones to show you the benefits of having a pack and an omega in the one house. What do you think?”
“One more thing, I promised Reno I would show you this first out here,” she says, shrugging a little bit. “And I need you to agree, I handle it my way.”
“Not until I know what it is.” I try very hard not to snap and snarl, and she arches one of her eyebrows high as she waits for an answer and for me to drop my shit.
“Henley, you’re asking me to trust you, I’m asking the same here,” Bailey sasses.
“God damnit, woman, you’re playing mean!” I tug a strand of hair, but I nod in agreement. As soon as I do, she lifts her top with one hand, dropping the edge of her yoga pants with the other.
My eyes flash to hers, and yeah, I’m fucking furious. Not at her, but Colton James just lost his fucking hands. A series of finger sized bruises ring around her hips.
“You can deal with him first, but I will be too. That is not open for discussion, Bailey. Men do not grab women hard enough to bruise. Period.”
She bundles up her top, holding it up with her chin and with the other, she nabs my index finger and touches it over the first few. It’s hard not to flinch away.
“See, I’m okay. I’ll deal with him. Not you. You needed to see them and feel them, Henley, so if I ask you to touch me later, it’s not ruined because of this. And what Colton did is not the worst you will find. I have scars.”
I shake my hand out of hers before tracing over the bruises again, locking up my desire to rip the world apart for what happened to her while also focusing on trying to swap a bad memory with a much better one. Where I touch, Bailey’s skin is smooth as silk and deliciously warm.
Everything collides in my head again. I try to focus on the woman in front of me but my voice cracks from the regret she doesn’t want to hear, “Bailey…”
She fists my shirt, “Henley let’s pretend we’re only dealing with CJ. Okay? And before you ask, I did shower, three times, because Ashton was being whiney that he could still smell him on me.”
I huff a laugh, knowing he would have too. Once was enough though; he was being extra considerate of, and for me, I suspect.
“You good?” she asks seriously. When she lets her top drop to cover over her skin, my hand stays there though, splayed nice and wide now. My hand fits around her waist, like it’s always been there.
“Yeah. I will be.” I look down at her, her eyes free from the troubles of the day, hopefully mine will be too soon.
I barely finish speaking, and she’s off like a rocket.
“Good, because you better call everyone to see what they think of your idea.”
She barely finishes speaking before I’m wolf whistling through the door, calling everyone. And clearly, it’s the shortest fucking discussion any pack has ever had. Although Ashton brings a white board to document any limits anyone has.
Bailey
The white board takes up the spare seat, so the scrawled words each of us have written are there and can’t be ignored.
It’s going to take a little while for me to come to terms with the way the A-team share. A lot about them ‘feels’ real, yet there’s an itty-bitty part of me telling me rather maliciously because they’re sharing, doesn’t mean terribly much. Though, another equally insistent part argues against that citing the black and white words each of us have shared as proof that indeed this is real.
