Page 51 of Henri (Confessions 5)

“MY FATHER. HE died tonight. And that’s worth celebrating.”

As Henri’s words faded off into the silence of the house, Bailey looked down at the handsome face of the man who’d been haunting his dreams, and saw Henri’s eyes were shut and his breathing was steady.

His father died? Tonight? Holy shit, Bailey thought, as he tried to work out what to say to that. Considering the news, Henri didn’t look too upset or distraught. In fact, the only thing really different about him was that he was drunk.

Bailey took a seat on the couch beside Henri. “Are you okay? Can I call someone for you?”

Henri’s eyes did their best to focus on him. “There is no one, and trust me, no one would care anyway. I don’t even think I do.” Henri frowned. “What kind of person does that make me?”

Bailey looked down to the hands Henri was rubbing along his jeans. It was a nervous move, an agitated one, so he took one of Henri’s hands and laced their fingers together. “I think you’re a good person. You’re just in shock.”

Henri looked down at their hands and shook his head. “You don’t know me.”

That was true, Bailey didn’t, not really. “I’m usually a good judge of people, and I don’t think you’re half as bad as you pretend to be.”

Henri rested his cheek on the back of the couch, then he closed his eyes and whispered, “I don’t want to be. Not anymore.”

Bailey’s chest tightened as he tried to think of something to say in the face of such vulnerability. And just as he was about to ask more, Henri’s fingers relaxed around his and his breathing turned even—not a second later, he was out.

THAT CONVERSATION HAD played over and over for the rest of the night, while Henri had slept on the couch across from Bailey.

There was so much about Henri that he didn’t know. He’d always thought of him as mysterious, and the more time they spent around one another, the more Bailey was finding that to be true.

He had questions, ideas and thoughts, on the kind of man Henri was. But since they weren’t in any kind of relationship—even a friendship—his questions remained unanswered.

Like, what kind of man drove around in his ex’s car? What kind of man could vanish in the blink of an eye? And why would Robbie warn him away from Henri, even though he clearly cared enough about Priest’s ex to show concern for his well-being?

Bailey hated not knowing, and the more time he spent with Henri, the more he realized he couldn’t do this anymore. He knew himself well enough to know that this wasn’t going to end well if he continued down this road. He was already too invested in a man who was supposed to be nothing more than some fun, and there was no way he could just flick a switch and turn that part of his brain off.

This had to be it, even though every fiber of his body was drawn to Henri. Bailey would make sure he was okay, and then send him on his way, and that would be the end of that.

Right…? Right.

Chapter Twenty

CONFESSION

I never have a problem leaving,

so what is it about Bailey that makes me want to stay?

“THAT’S A FANCY-LOOKING coffee maker you have there,” Henri said, as he walked into the kitchen to find Bailey on the other side of a wide center island.

Just like the rest of the house, this room was bright, clean, and tastefully decorated. All greys and marble that looked like an “after” shot from one of those renovation shows.

Bailey turned, and even though Henri had seen his cop less than fifteen minutes ago, the picture he made now was no less inviting. Bailey was in his jeans and hoodie from the night before, and his built chest and broad shoulders gave a powerful impression of strength and security, but it was his face that really caught and held Henri’s attention.

With such short hair, Bailey’s eyes were an instant draw. They were both curious and compassionate, and right now that was coupled with an expression Henri was all too familiar with—regret.

I knew it. He’s regretting his night with me. Hell, ever meeting me, most likely. He probably just wants me to get out of his damn house. As Henri moved further into the room, he couldn’t find a reason Bailey shouldn’t feel that way. But before he left, he needed to apologize, and this time have Bailey hear him.

Henri ran his hand through his damp hair and down to the back of his neck, then gave Bailey a tight smile. “Thanks for the shower. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I hope you found everything okay.”

“I did, yeah. Thanks.” Fuck. This polite, distant bullshit was so not for him, especially when he’d been inside the guy just last week, and as he walked to the kitchen island he noticed the intent way Bailey tracked him. Those eyes were eating Henri up, even as Bailey erected a wall between the two of them.

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