Page 158 of Love Bleeds Red
“I promise.” Cat turns to me, holding her hand out to shake. “Thanks for taking care of my girl. You’ve got a real one.”
Our handshake is firm and Cat gives me a look that says hurt her and you’ll answer to me. “Don’t I know it,” I respond.
“And thanks for finding me. For finding us.”
She gets into her car, starting the engine. We step away, but at the last minute she rolls down the window. “Hey, if you hear anything about the others, let me know.” I watch her chew her lip for a second before she adds, “Even Elise.”
Bailey smiles and nods—I’m sure she understands exactly what Cat’s talking about.
As Cat’s taillights disappear down the road, I run my hand through my hair. “Shit, I should have told her about Firefly.”
“No,” Bailey says, slipping her hand into mine. “I don’t think Cat would go. That’s not her. She does things on her own, in her own time. I can’t believe you found her. I can’t believe she’s alive and free and...”
“She’s a survivor,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Like someone else I know.”
Bailey steps closer to me, close enough that I can smell her shampoo and count the freckles on her nose. “I don’t know how to thank you enough. Seeing Cat again. That meant everything to me.”
“You don’t have to thank me, love.”
She spots my sketchbook, slung under my arm and gestures for it. “Can I?”
I haven’t shared many of my drawings with Bailey, or with anyone really, but I flip to the page that shows the moment her and Cat first saw each other. The shock on her face, the way Cat’s whole body sagged in relief.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes widen as she takes in the details. “This is incredible.”
She flips through, her expression more and more in awe as she takes in my work. I’ve captured every detail from the day. Pure joy. Pure gratitude. Pure hope.
She hands it back to me and wraps her arms around my chest. “I love you so much.”
Hearing those words is like a soothing balm. I know she does and it’s not the first time she’s said it, not even close, but each time hits deeper than the last. Like she means it more, like there’s less fear behind it.
“I love you too,” I murmur into her hair. “More than you know.”
As we walk back to my bike, Bailey leans against my side, and I can tell her steps are lighter, more hopeful. This reconnection with Cat gave her something she didn’t even know she needed—proof that healing is possible, that they both survived, that the connections they made in that hell could still exist in freedom.
“I wish it could have been different for Polly,” she whispers as I hand her the helmet I had fitted for her. “Sometimes I close my eyes and picture her walking through my front door, smiling. She’ll drop a note on my table and leave the way she came.”
“Was that something she did?” I ask, wanting to know more without prying too deep. “The notes, I mean.”
She nods and slides the helmet on. “Always. Little words of encouragement. Sometimes silly drawings. She made everything less heavy… I think she’s the only reason I survived there so long without changing who I am.”
I start the bike and feel her arms wrap around my waist. As we pull out of the parking lot, I think about the drawings in my sketchbook, about Polly’s notes, about Cat calling Bailey “New Girl” like no time had passed at all. Some connections survive everything. Distance, trauma, even death. They leave marks that don’t fade, impressions that stay with us long after the person who made them is gone. Today proved that. Hell, the past twoyears of our lives proved it even more. No matter where we are… through the fires of hell and back, I know the people I love, the ones who love me too, that those connections are stronger than iron. Those bonds are everything.
Bailey’s grip tightens around me as we hit the main road. A gesture of trust. To anyone else it may not seem like much, but to me, the simple gesture that she trusts me with her life carries all the weight in the world. She’s choosing to hold on. To me, to this moment, to whatever comes next.
My sketchbook is full of memories, most of them burned into my mind long before I committed them to paper. Bailey’s face when she hugged her parents for the first time. Her expression when she took her first real bite of chocolate after over a year of barely eating. The way she smiled listening to Jasper tell one of his ridiculous stories.
It all has one common theme—hope. Unguarded and real. That’s what I’ll carry forward into the future. Not the nightmares or the guilt, not the fire we walked through to get back to each other. Just Bailey believing that maybe we can all survive anything.
And maybe we can.
EPILOGUE
BAILEY - ONE YEAR LATER
The soundof our coffee table scraping across the hardwood makes me wince. Leon’s going to have a heart attack if Jasper puts another scratch on it. It’s bad enough they brought the cats over and they’re getting hair all over Leon’s precious keyboards. It’s actually pretty funny watching Leon with Q-Tips and cans of compressed air trying to keep the spaces between the keys meticulously clean, especially when he can’t help but scoop the kitties up and kiss their little faces when he thinks no one’s looking.
“Careful with that, you animal,” Leon calls from the kitchen, but it’s all in good fun. He’s used to Jasper’s chaos.
