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Here, today, with this particular man, Priest could be the bad guy, because on that day with him, he had been, damn it.
“No. He met Julien while we were still—”
“Dating?” Bailey asked, shoving up onto his elbow.
And while he’d been about to say fucking, Henri supposed dating would do. “Yeah.”
Bailey’s mouth fell open, and he looked so scandalized that Henri chuckled.
“Careful there, officer. If the wind changes, your face will stay like that.” Henri winked. “On second thought, I kinda like you with your mouth open that way.”
Bailey’s mouth clicked shut and he lowered himself back down to the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m just… Priest cheated on you?”
“Well, to be fair, we weren’t officially a thing—”
“Fuck that,” Bailey said with so much conviction that Henri lost his train of thought. He couldn’t remember Bailey ever sounding so pissed off.
“I guess he did, yeah. But it’s ancient history now.”
“Except then he went and married Robbie recently and brought old feelings back?” Bailey asked, and while that was what had been bothering Henri the day they’d first met, it certainly wasn’t what was keeping him awake now.
“Bailey?”
“Yeah?”
Henri leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m not in love with Joel Priestley.” It took everything Henri had not to blurt out, How can I be, when I’ve fallen in love with you?
“Okay.”
“Okay? Just like that?”
“Mhmm,” Bailey said. “Just like that.”
And wow, didn’t that make Henri feel equal parts awesome and shit. On one hand, Henri was telling Bailey the complete and utter truth. But on the other, he’d managed to sidestep the original question of why he was having these fucked-up dreams in the first place.
One thing at a time, though. Bailey was dealing with enough right now, and while he was doing a stand-up job at finding a million other things to distract himself, it was time for Henri to check in on him.
“Good. Because it’s the truth.” Henri moved back to his pillow and eyed Bailey closely.
The stubble lining his jaw was much darker, thicker than Henri had ever seen, since Bailey hadn’t been home yet for a shave, and with that closely buzzed hair, those brilliant blue eyes were downright mesmerizing—even with everything he’d been through.
“Now, since we’re speaking truths, officer, are you going to tell me how you’re doing if I ask you?”
Bailey’s lips twisted and he rolled to his back, but Henri wasn’t about to let him get away that easily. He’d let Bailey have time to decompress, to gather his thoughts and have a moment where he didn’t need to answer to anyone. But Henri was done giving him space. It was time to see where Bailey’s head was, time to make sure he was ready to deal with things, because this morning would suggest otherwise.
“Bailey?”
“I’m angry.”
That answer was completely unexpected.
Not that it didn’t make sense—Henri would be pissed off too if one second his night was going nice and dandy, and the next some asshole got in his face with a gun. But that was him, not Bailey, and just as he was going to delve a little deeper, Bailey turned his head on the pillow and looked Henri directly in the eye.
“That’s pretty messed up, right? I shot a man, he died, and I’m angry at him.” Bailey grimaced. “I hate that I feel that way, but I do. I was having a good night…a great night, even, and now? Now I’m pissed off, because all I wanted was some chocolate, and if he’d just listened and put his damn gun down, he’d still be alive and I wouldn’t be feeling guilty for having done my fucking job.”
Bailey practically vibrated, his jaw tense as he stared up at the wood beams running along the bedroom ceiling.
“It’s not like I’m stupid or naïve,” Bailey continued. “I’ve trained for this, run through hundreds of scenarios just like it, and knew it would eventually happen. It’s a reality of the job. But…”
Bailey bit down into his lip, and when it seemed like he was about to draw blood, Henri said, “But?”
Bailey sighed and shut his eyes, and Henri wondered if that was all he was going to get, until Bailey said, “But no one trains you on how to feel after the fact.”
“Right.” Henri wanted to tell Bailey that he knew exactly what that meant, that he understood how it felt to relive a moment like that over and over and not know how you would ever un-see it.
But as he lay there beside one of the best men—possibly the best man—he’d ever known, Henri knew that his and Bailey’s stories were vastly different.
There was no way Henri could openly sympathize without trying to explain what had happened with Julien, Priest, and Jimmy that night. And considering Bailey’s profession, and the fact he was feeling guilt over killing some motherfucker who’d pulled a gun on him and an innocent bystander, Henri thought he was going to have to find another way to comfort and support his cop.
