Page 32 of Skid
I loved him.
It was a realization that scared me, but that didn’t make it any less true. Now I just had to figure out what to do about it.
Hours later, the tree was up and covered in ornaments. Bits of tinsel were stuck to the floor, and there was a light dusting of glitter everywhere. I might never get rid of it all, but I didn’t care. The tree couldn’t have been more perfect.
Thatcher and I were sitting on the sofa, catching our breath while we admired our hard work. It leaned a little to the left, and there were too many ornaments bunched together in a couple of places. That was Baylor’s handiwork, but no matter what it looked like, it was ours.
Baylor plopped down between us. She had a half-eaten donut in her hand, and she looked up at our tree like she couldn’t believe it was really ours. I couldn’t believe it either. Thatch stretched his arm along the back of the sofa as he said, “I think she looks pretty good.”
“It looks wonderful,” I added.
“It needs a star,” Baylor announced.
“We can get one later.”
I brushed a bit of frosting from her cheek, and she popped up and ran over to her toybox. She grabbed her colors and paper and got to work. I used the quiet moment to lean over to Thatch and ask, “You want to stay for dinner? We’re having Baylor’s favorite. Nuggets and mac-and-cheese.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I have to pass.” He grimaced. “I’ve got a shift tonight at the Vault.”
Some people might’ve held judgment about him working at a strip club. I didn’t. I understood better than anyone that a job is a job, and you have to find a way to make the best of it. It wasn’t always easy at the hotel, but I managed. And I figured the same held true for him. At the same time, I hated that he couldn’t stay.
I tried not to let my disappointment show as I said, “That’s okay. Maybe some other time.”
“You working tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’m on from eleven to seven.”
“I’ll just miss ya. I’ve gotta be there at eight, but I could come early and maybe we could grab a bite to eat?”
“That would be great.”
“Good deal.” He held my gaze for a moment, then said, “I guess I'd better get going.”
He stood, and I followed him over to the door. “Thanks again for today. It meant a lot to Baylor, and it meant even more to me.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine, kissing me softly. “Lock up behind me.”
I nodded, then closed the door behind him. He hadn’t even made it to his truck, and I already missed him. The man had done a real number on me, and he’d done it without even trying. It all came so naturally to him, and it was one of the many things I adored about him.
I glanced over at the tree, and it was amazing how bright and cheery it made my apartment. It had me feeling all warm and fuzzy as I made my way into the kitchen and started dinner. We ate, watched a little TV, and went to bed early.
Baylor nestled up next to me, and after half an hour of restless fidgeting, she finally dozed off. The apartment fell quiet, but it was the good kind of quiet. The kind you get when yourmind and heart finally accept the good in your life and somehow manage to keep the doubts at bay.
It wasn’t a feeling I got often, so I savored it a moment before drifting off to sleep. I was deep in slumber when I woke to the sound of something crashing. It was loud and sharp and terrifying. I sat up, and my heart was pounding as I quickly scanned the room. It wasn’t until then that I noticed that Baylor wasn’t in the bed next to me.
“Baylor!” I called out, jumping out of bed.
Nothing.
Panic washed over me as I jolted out of bed and darted into the living room. I called her name again, and my voice crackled as I stumbled into the hallway. The apartment was dim with the only light coming from the Christmas tree, which was now on the floor.
Ornaments were shattered, the garland was tangled around one of the kitchen chairs that had tipped over, and next to it all was Baylor. And she wasn’t moving.
“Baylor!”
I dropped to my knees, and my hands were shaking as I reached for her. She was on her side, and her little pajama top was twisted around her waist. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving. I scooped her into my arms as I cried, “Oh, baby… Can you hear me? I need you to wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered, and then she blinked up at me, dazed and confused. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. As soon as she came out of the haze, she started crying. And not just any cry. This was loud and breathless. She was hurt.
