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“I’m serious, Bay, you really do look a little”—Xander paused as he pulled one of the pastries free and put it on a plate—“weary.”
“Weary? What does that even mean?” Bailey reached for the roll and picked it up to take a bite. As the rich, syrupy caramel hit his taste buds, he closed his eyes and groaned.
“It means you look tired, exhausted. Do you need me to give you a minute alone with your pastry there?”
Bailey opened his eyes. “No, but if you could shut up and give me a moment to enjoy it in silence that would be amazing.”
“Uh huh.” Xander reached into the bag and pulled out an apple turnover and a couple of napkins. He tossed one Bailey’s way, even though he was already licking his fingers clean. “Here, animal.”
Bailey snorted, the sugar now replacing his grumpiness with a semblance of good humor. “We can’t all be as refined as you.”
“That is true. However, I knew your mother, and she raised you better than that. Sean and Kieran maybe not, but you she had high hopes for.”
Bailey smirked, thinking of his brothers, and then took another bite of the roll, grateful for Xander’s morning visit despite himself.
The two of them had been in each other’s lives one way or another for as long as he could remember. Xander had been there for Bailey through good times and bad—his parents passing being the very worst—and while their relationship had changed and morphed over the years, this version they’d settled into now was by far Bailey’s favorite.
Xander was someone he could trust. Hell, he was someone most of America trusted, and no matter what, he was someone Bailey could always rely on to tell him the truth. Even if he didn’t want to hear it.
“So, what’s been going on with you?” Xander asked, as he rested a hip against the counter.
Bailey reached for his cup, brought the hot brew to his lips, and shrugged. “Nothing.”
One of Xander’s perfect eyebrows arched. “Come on, you can do better than that, Bay. People lie to you all the time for a living. I’m sure you’ve picked up some of their moves.”
He wasn’t wrong, and while Bailey had spoken to Xander since the wedding, he’d been unsure whether to tell him what—or who—it was that had been causing him to lose sleep.
But after a quick back-and-forth with himself, Bailey finally decided that, for the sake of his sanity, it might just be time to confess.
“Okay, but you have to promise not to give me shit.”
Xander lowered his coffee to the counter, a devious smile curving his lips. “Promise.”
Chapter Nine
CONFESSION
I love to hate him as much as he hates to love me.
JUST ONCE, HENRI wished that Priest could look something other than fucking perfect when they saw each other. Then maybe Henri wouldn’t always feel like a peasant coming to visit a king, especially when they hailed from the same shitty neck of the woods.
But as usual, Priest looked the picture of a refined gentleman this morning. The suit, the office, the perfectly groomed hair and scruff that lined his jaw, and then, of course, there was that commanding, nobody fucks with what’s mine voice of his.
Not that Henri would know much about that. He’d never been good enough to be counted as Priest’s the way it mattered most, and that was all it took to snap him out of his little fantasy. “You owe me a favor.”
In all the years the two of them had known each other, one of the things Henri envied most about Priest was his ability to keep his emotions at bay. That was something Henri had never been able to master. But if Priest didn’t want you to know something, if he didn’t want to give his hand away, he threw up a mask that was one of the best Henri had ever seen—like now.
“A favor?” Priest said, as he walked around his desk. “As far as I’m aware, everything I owed you was settled when you disappeared several months ago with my car.”
Yeah, Henri had known that one was coming, and when Priest stopped in front of him, Henri couldn’t resist taking a shot. “Can you blame me? She drives like a dream, by the way. I can tell you really cared when you restored her. How long did it take?”
“Quit the bullshit,” Priest said, as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants. The move was both cool and calm, but Henri thought it was more likely to remove the urge Priest had to strangle him. “Were you ever going to tell me you were back in town?”
“Probably not. But then again, I never left. If you thought I did, that was your mistake, not mine.”
Priest eyed him and rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose you’re right. But I figured once you heard I was going to call, you’d bolt.”
