Page 17 of Protecting Hailey

“Oh. I—”

Trey walked into the kitchen smelling like my favorite shampoo. “All cleaned up for you, babe. Now, come here.”

He wore a white robe and had pulled the hood over his head. His boyish grin was endearing. I walked into his embrace, and he squeezed me tightly. He coughed again and his chest wheezed.

“Are you feeling ok?” I asked, listening to the rumble between his breaths.

“What’s he still doing here?” Trey sneered. “Shouldn’t he be in the guest house outside?”

“He,” Christian replied from the other side of the kitchen. When did he move away? “Stays under the same roof as her. Always.” Then he cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re all cleaned up. That was an unfortunate accident earlier.”

Trey began to push me aside, but I knew he would only hurt himself if he tried to take on Christian. He was no match for him. “Trey,” I said, pinching his chin to look at me. “What’s the good news you had to share?”

Trey stared at Christian, but answered. “Kendra’s manager called me earlier. They want to set up a meeting to discuss me singing on her next track.”

“Oh,” I said, a little confused. “But your music and hers are so different. I’m surprised—”

“You’re surprised she would ask me? What kind of question is that?”

“That’s not what I said. I was going to say I’m surprised your manager would be okay with you doing something away from the band. Won’t that send the wrong message?”

He shrugged. “I don’t care what those guys think. It’s my career.” He went into a coughing fit and at least had the grace to turn away.

“But they’re your bandmates. You should talk to them before you commit to anything.”

“You’re too soft, Hailey. That’s not how you handle business. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

He pushed away and sulked toward the bar. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he poured himself a glass.

“Whoa, that’s a lot,” I said, noting the liquid had reached halfway up the large glass.

“What? I’m celebrating.”

“Looks like you already started celebrating earlier,” I mumbled.

Trey knocked back the whole half a glass of whiskey and then grabbed me by the waist. “Come on, let’s go back to your room, where we can really celebrate,” he whispered in my ear.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Christian turn away. Whether Trey’s display of affection discomforted him or he preferred to give us privacy, I wasn’t sure. Trey kissed me, pushing his wet tongue into my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, and I tried my best to ignore it.

“Trey,” I said, pulling away from his kiss. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow. I haven’t even had a chance to tell you my news—”

“You can tell me when you’re riding me. That would be so hot.”

He pulled me toward the bedroom, but I stopped him. “Um, it’s getting late. Maybe tomorrow after The Harriet King Show.” I grinned widely. “I’m going to be the musical guest. Isn’t that great?” I bounced on the spot, pulling his attention back to me when he tried to steer us toward my bedroom.

He stopped to look at me and grinned. “That’s fantastic, babe!” He kissed me again, inserting his tongue deeper, and I nearly gagged. “Maybe you can put a good word in for me.”

I blinked, still smiling. “Yeah, sure. I’ll mention that you’d love to be on the show.”

“Well, don’t say it like that. I don’t want to sound desperate,” he said and then sneezed directly on my face. “Shit, babe. Sorry about that.” He wiped my face with the sleeve of the robe, but it was too late. I was grossed out.

“Trey, I think you should go to bed. I want to get some rest and you’re not feeling well, so let’s just hold off celebrating until tomorrow.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

I grabbed his arm. “No, no, not at all. Just saying, let’s call it an early night. But you can stay here. I’ll probably leave before you wake up, but we can pick this up right after the show.” I kissed his cheek, and he gave me a sour look, but conceded, anyway. “Fine.”

I led Trey toward my bedroom, holding his hand. I felt a pull in my chest to turn around. So, I looked over my shoulder, but Christian wasn’t there. A drawer slammed in the kitchen and utensils rattled, but I didn’t see his face as I headed to bed with Trey on my arm. It shouldn’t matter to me, anyway. Trey was my boyfriend. He was the one I would be sharing my bed with tonight. Strangely, I just wished he smelled like bacon instead of whiskey.

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