A knock startled me from my thoughts, and a voice called from outside.
“Bailey? It’s me.” There was a pause. “Kai, I mean.”
Shit. Shit. I couldn’t move. Frozen to the spot far enough from the heater for the chill to nip at my face and hands, I was stuck.
“Who is it?” What am I saying? He’d told me that already. I couldn’t stand there like an idiot when he could see the shape of me through the door’s frosted glass. All I could see was a smudge of dark from my side, but with the light on, he would see all of me… shit… shit. For some godforsaken reason Kai was right outside my door.
“It’s me.” Kai sounded confused that I hadn’t immediately known it was him, which I had, which made me a stupid, lying idiot. “Kai,” he added again.
“What do you want?” I couldn’t move.
“Nothing, uhm… well, I wanted to give Dad and Megan some space. I woke early, and Callum says that Brooke isn’t up yet, and then…” He said something I didn’t catch. “No, ignore all that. I’m here because I want to talk to you properly, and I saw your lights are on. Can I come in? It’s cold.”
Of course, it was cold; it was Vermont, mountains, snow, nearly Christmas—how had that escaped him?
“It’s early,” I announced, and then groaned. What in God’s name was I doing?
“Please let me in. I have coffee?”
“I already have coffee.”
There was a long pause, and even though I could see his shadow, I thought maybe he’d leave. Part of me was relieved, but a bigger part wanted to throw open the door and yell after him that he was an asshole who broke my heart, and that I also loved him, and could he please stay. Confusion, thy name is Bailey Haynes.
“Please, Angel?”
My name is Bailey.
I moved then, slowly at first, and then faster as I fiddled with the locks, because it was cold and he was outside, and what else could I do?
He was red-cheeked, a blue beanie pulled low on his head, and his breath was ice in the air. The slight thaw then re-freeze of last night had created icicles along the roofline of the store in front, and there were matching ones over Kai’s head. I couldn’t leave him out there to be potentially stabbed to death if one fell on him.
I stepped to one side and gestured for him to come in, then shut the door behind him, stopping the cold from encroaching too far.
He glanced around at the small area, nodding. I’d covered the walls in art—paintings of mine, photos I’d taken of the family—and there was even a small couch to one side where potential clients could sit and talk designs with me. The coffee-maker was usually down there, too, but along with all the soft furnishings I’d used to make the place homey, it was upstairs out of the damp cold. I wondered what he saw when he looked around the place? A jumble of light and color? Or the rainbow flag covering the wall by the stairs up to the apartment? Did he notice the images of his sister and the kids, or the photos of me and my brothers as kids?
“So, this is your place?”
“Yeah. Mostly. I mean I have a mortgage.” God, I sounded like an idiot, my words stilted and unsure. He could buy and sell places like this with his spare change, I imagined, but for me it was everything, and I’d made it a small home away from my parents’ place.
“It’s great, very you,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “So, I was hoping we could talk about the summer.”
I tilted my chin. “I’ve forgotten it all,” I lied, which was stupid because the topic had come up at the pond. Way to look like an idiot, Bailey.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean then?” I asked with suspicion.
“I have so much to tell you—”
“Can’t we just pretend the summer didn’t happen?”
“Shit, Bailey.” He put the coffees down, took off his beanie and wrung it in his hands, and for a moment, I thought he was going to cry. “I don’t want to forget anything.”
Anger coiled inside me. “Well, what if I do? You shouted at everyone. I went after you. I hugged you, and you told me I was everything to you. Then you shoved me away and left, and I don’t understand what you meant. And it hurts to know you needed to walk away from me. Why did you do that?” The words tumbled out of me, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself. I’d promised myself I would never reveal how I’d felt about what happened, and yet I’d just come out and said it had hurt.
“Oh god,” He murmured, and I heard real pain in that soft sound. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I don’t have an excuse, not when all I really wanted was to stay there, and let you help me.”
Stupid hope began to warm my heart, but he seemed in so much pain, as if that admission was too much for him to bear.
“You hugged me. You told me you cared for me.” I pointed at him, and my hand was shaky. “You left.”
The CD changed to a jingly sparkly version of “Deck the Halls,” and I wished I was closer to turn it off.
“Angel…” He cradled my elbow and tugged me toward him.
“My name is Bailey.”
He nodded then. “I wish I’d stayed and talked to everyone, but with you it was different, and I didn’t realize until it was too late. I haven’t even talked to my dad yet about my future because I needed to see you first, but I don’t know why. It’s just in my dreams.”
He scrubbed at his eyes and then stared right at me.
“Please, Bailey, forgive me?”
Chapter Seven
KAI
I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to turn up at Bailey’s place, but there I was, standing inside his workshop holding his elbow, with so much I wanted to say that I didn’t know where to start. Why had I stayed away for so long because I’d messed up everything good, and now, what did I add to those words when I didn’t understand myself at all? Help me understand why? Bailey was shorter than me, with delicate bones, beautiful gray eyes so big they wouldn’t have gone amiss in a Disney cartoon. Eyes that filled with emotion so deep I never could figure him out. He pulled free from my hold, pushed a stray blond curl out of his eyes, and thinned his lips. He was angry with me, or wary, I couldn’t tell, but I wanted to touch him to reassure myself that he was there, and I wasn’t dreaming.
He glanced at the door, but I wasn’t leaving. Instead, I reached over and picked up the coffees, then stood and hustled deeper inside his place before he changed his mind and threw me out for not making any freaking sense. I stopped by a bench well away from the door, then thrust a coffee at him.
“Cream, no sugar,” I blurted.
After a short pause, he took the proffered coffee and nodded his thanks. I wanted him to ask me how it was that I remembered how he took his coffee, but he just sipped the caffeine and stared at me.
I cleared my throat. “So, how about we start this again?”
“Mmm.”
Was that a yes? I forged ahead anyway when he didn’t say anything. “How are you?” Lame. So, lame.
He dropped his gaze, and then hoisted himself up on the far bench next to the heater. It was cold where I was, and I wondered why the workshop didn’t have heating. I knew he lived over this place, and I hoped to hell he had a better heating system up there. Maybe he was short of money because he wasn’t selling enough of his designs. What if I loaned him—