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The second Bailey made contact, those dark eyes of Henri’s opened, and where he’d last seen compassion and kindness looking back at him, Bailey now saw fear and loathing.
The stark coldness in that usually hot gaze was shocking. While Bailey knew it wasn’t for him, the empty flatness of that expression told him that it was intended for someone who had hurt Henri deeply.
Priest? No… Bailey couldn’t imagine Priest causing this level of damage. As the daze of sleep seemed to lift from Henri and he realized where he was, he cursed and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he removed his hand. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“That’s okay. I got a few hours in.”
Henri let out a sigh and rolled to his back, draping his arm across his eyes. “I should’ve slept in another room.”
“No.” Bailey scooted over until he was back against Henri’s side. “I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep if you’d done that.”
Henri turned his dark head on the pillow, and this time when their eyes connected, the flat expression from seconds ago had been replaced with the warmth Bailey was used to.
“Still, you need the sleep.”
Bailey searched Henri’s handsome features as the two of them lay there face to face, and decided that instead of focusing on his mess of a life for now, he would rather focus on what had just happened here with Henri.
“So do you, from what I’ve seen. Those dreams you have…” Bailey chewed at his lower lip for a second, wondering if he was getting too personal here, if Henri would shut him down. But after everything that had happened between them this morning, he decided it was worth a shot if it meant the two of them getting closer. “Do you have them often?”
Henri studied Bailey closely for what felt like an eternity. “Not usually.”
Bailey frowned. That was an odd answer, and when Henri seemed to realize that, he added, “I mean, they just started…recently.”
“Because of Priest?” The words were out of Bailey’s mouth before he knew it. But as they lingered in the bed between him and Henri, he didn’t regret them. Not today, when he was as open and vulnerable as he could possibly be. He wanted to know where he stood with Henri, wanted to know if he could trust what he was seeing and feeling.
“Priest?” Henri said, and when his brows drew down in a V, Bailey nodded and thought, It’s now or never.
“Yes. You said his name just now. So I thought maybe his wedding had, I don’t know, stirred some things up for you.” When Henri looked at him blankly, Bailey added, “I know that this is new, and I’m a total basket case right now… But I need to know. Am I competing with him? Are you still in love with Joel Priestley?”
HENRI WASN’T SURE what part disturbed him more. The fact that he’d been talking in his fucking sleep, or the fact that the man he’d just realized he’d fallen in love with now thought he was pining—and dreaming—about his ex.
Fuck, Henri thought, as he tried to look at this from Bailey’s perspective. Does he really think that? And if he did, could Henri really blame Bailey, considering the circumstances they’d met under? The answer to that was no. But after everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and where his mind was now, it was almost inconceivable.
Henri knew he had to tread carefully here. He had no idea what he had or hadn’t said while he’d been trying to claw his way out of this new reoccurring nightmare of his. But the main issue Bailey had was Henri’s past relationship with a man Bailey considered his friend, and that was an area Henri could clear up right now.
“Am I in love with Joel?” he said, and made sure to keep his eyes locked on Bailey’s. “Not anymore. But I was, for a long time.”
A flash of something—hurt, jealousy?—flickered in Bailey’s eyes, and almost had Henri regretting his words.
“You told me not to lie to you, remember?”
Bailey swallowed and nodded. “I know. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear.”
Henri shifted on the mattress, sliding one hand under the pillow where his cheek rested and reaching for Bailey’s hand with his other. Then, as they lay there side by side in the midafternoon sun, he entwined their fingers and said, “We knew each other when we were boys and met up again when we were in our twenties.” Henri paused and gave Bailey a half-smile. “It worked for a little bit, but then Joel met Julien and…”
“And what?” Bailey asked. “You broke up?”
Henri knew he could make it that simple, but some petty part of him decided it was time to tell this story the way it had actually happened. He was sick of always giving Priest the easy way out, of just disappearing from the picture because he’d known Julien was the better choice in the end.
