Page 35 of Claiming Ours
“Baylee, you asked where I’ve been the last few years. I guess a little bit of everywhere, but most recently Florida is where I call home. After my stint in rehab?—”
“Rehab?” Bailey asked, head tilting to the side.
I nodded, hating having to fill her in on all the shit in my past. “I got mixed up with some not-so-great influences who, unlike you and Dean, didn’t have my best interests in mind.” Liam’s assessing stare intensified as I spoke. “Alcohol and prescriptions were my downfall, fueling one party after another. That continued for years before I was ready to get the help I needed. My life was in shambles. I was barely surviving day to day.”
“Memphis,” Baylee murmured. Her hand found mine, interlacing our fingers, and squeezed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize you?—”
I shook my head to dismiss any thoughts of her feeling guilty. I ran my free hand along Elvis’s head in cathartic strokes. “I did it, all of it, to myself, Bay. I didn’t realize how deep in it I was until it was running my life. I woke up needing a drink, wanting a pill to quicken that escape from reality.”
“Barely surviving?” Liam asked, sounding genuinely interested. “What does that mean?”
Disappointment in myself and embarrassment over how bad it had been pumped through my veins, making a hot flush creep up my neck. Thank fuck for the tattoos.
“I couldn’t hold down a job, so I lost my car, my apartment—hell, everything except for Elvis here.” Squatting low to put us nose to nose, I scratched behind both of his ears in a silent thank-you for always being there for me. “We lived on the streets for a while. Not a single person I went to for help took us in when I needed them most. That’s when I realized the friends I thought I had weren’t actual friends, and I was fucking alone.” A hollow feeling grew in my gut, but one look at Baylee had it vanishing. “So I did what I swore to myself I’d never do and asked my parents for help. They got me into a treatment facility that I took seriously, knowing it was my one chance to get out of that life alive. I completed the program and was determined to never sink that low again.”
Streams of tears poured from the corners of Baylee’s eyes, trailing down her freckled cheeks. A sharp pain had me pressing a loose fist to my sternum, knowing I was the cause of those tears. I hated her being upset, but she needed to know, and I needed that weight lifted. Speaking about the trauma and past to someone who cared had healing repercussions. Step five of the twelve and all that was legit.
Arm draped over her slim shoulders, I guided her to my chest, curling her smaller frame in a crushing hug.
“I’m okay, Bay,” I whispered into her soft hair while stealing a whiff of coconut shampoo. “It’s a struggle that will always be there, but I got help when I needed it most and realized I was wasting my life.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she rasped with unshed tears in her lower lids. “What made you ready to get help?”
“Dean’s death.” She winced like my words were a physical blow but quickly schooled her features. “After I found out, I lost days drunk and high. When I finally came out of that bender, I realized life was too short and I didn’t want to spend one more minute dependent on the contents of a bottle or pills. I lost yearsof my life, put my parents through hell, and for what? A brief reprieve from reality, but it being so much worse when I came to.” I shook my head in disappointment at myself. “It will always be a temptation, but every day is easier. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you at the funeral, Baylee. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I hated not being there, especially since it was my doing, but it hurt even more after my mom told me how awful Dean’s mom had been to Baylee at the memorial service and burial.
“But you were at the bar last night,” Liam stated with the hint of a question in his tone.
“Drinking gallons of Sprite helped, but yeah, the bar scene isn’t ideal for a recovering alcoholic. But their food….” My stomach vibrated with a loud, rumbling growl just thinking about the nachos. “I’ve tried other places around town, but no one has food likethat,so I powered through. And to answer your earlier question about what brings me here now.” I inclined my head toward Baylee, who was still tucked against my side. “I randomly looked her up one day and found her clinic website here in Anchor Bay. The memories of us three together, the good times we had, are some of my best. I guess I wanted to find Baylee and—” I lifted a single shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “—maybe see if we could be friends again. I miss Dean. Fuck, do I miss him, and seeing her reminds me of the good times, which makes that pain of losing him forever sting a little less.”
Liam continued to stare, not saying a single word, just studying me as I brushed comforting strokes down Baylee’s spine as she worked to stop her tears. As if confirming a thought only he heard, he gave a clipped nod and pushed off the wall.
“I don’t need to replace the whole door. It’s structurally sound enough. Just the latch and hinges are bent and need replacing.” He pointed at my chest. “You’re coming to the hardware store with me to get the parts I’ll need. We’ll grab lunch for all of us on the way back here.”
“That’s perfect,” Baylee said around a sniffle while wiping at her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her lab coat. “I need to prepare for my next patient. Mittens, Mrs. Jones’s cat, is an angry beast with supersharp claws, meaning I need to gear up to keep from getting scratched. Elvis can stay in my office until you get back.”
My dog shifted his weight to Baylee’s legs, making her stumble to the side with a soft giggle.
Liam stared into my soul and hitched his chin toward the door in a not-so-subtle request to give him and Baylee a second alone. As I walked down the hall, I couldn’t help but replay the events after the door burst open. I was pissed that he got the upper hand so easily, though now knowing about his military background, I wasn’t too torn up about having my ass handed to me. I had never been a fighter, though I learned to keep myself armed at all times after living on the street in those few months.
Back in the waiting room, I paused in the middle, facing the large window, watching the people hurrying past, when an older, bald man stormed down the walkway speaking animatedly to the guy beside him, who looked pissed as hell.
“Ready?”
I jumped in surprise, a curse slipping out at Liam’s deep voice directly behind me. “Fuck, you’re quiet for someone your size.”
I swore his lips twitched in an almost smile before his normal deadly expression settled on his face, aimed directly at me. “Remember that about me, because if you do anything to hurt Baylee, and I mean any-fucking-thing, you’ll never see me coming.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. Holy shit, the guy was intense. I figured that after watching him and her the last couple of days, but it was worse this close to him.
We didn’t say another word as we left the clinic, him holding the door open for an older woman who carried a cat carrier with a yowling animal inside.
It wasn’t until we were several buildings away that he spoke again.
“I can tell she cares about you still, which is why I’m not asking you to leave Anchor Bay immediately and never come back.”
“I don’t think I could even if you told me to leave. I didn’t realize how much I missed Baylee, having her in my life in any capacity, until I saw her picture online. I wasn’t exaggerating in there. She, Dean, and I were always together. Where they went, I was there too.” Which sucked because I had a front-row seat to their make-out sessions, only tapping out when it became too much for me, not them asking me to leave. “I miss her.”
