Page 31 of Believing Bailey (Granton University 2)

He took the wadded piece of cloth back and shoved it into his pocket. I stared at him strangely another second and then turned away to hurry off the porch.

I didn’t breathe easily again until I’d returned to my car and had the heater on. And even though I positioned the vents so warmth blew right on my face, I felt icy cold and numb all the way to my bones.

I plodded up the steps of my apartment when I got home, still bone-cold dazed, and stopped at the top of the landing. Tess, or someone—though it was probably Tess—had cleaned up my potato chip disaster I’d abandoned earlier and then folded my blanket and placed it neatly on the back of the couch. The room was quiet and television turned off. I could hear voices from the kitchen; they were probably eating together, like a big, happy two-couple family.

They’d be just fine without their fifth-wheel Bailey tonight, so I trudged to my room and went straight to the bath, where I stripped down and stepped into the shower. I turned the water as hot as I could get it without burning off layers of skin and then scrubbed at my face for a good five minutes until tears began to drip down my cheeks. Hugging myself, I sat on the floor of the bathtub under the hot spray and cried for a bit longer.

But seriously, who knew learning your soulmate was really an asshole could be so devastating?

Chapter 11

BECKETT

“What’s wrong?” demanded the correctional officer who was standing behind me as I tried to piss. “Thought you said you had to take a leak?”

I did. I still had to. It was just, I wasn’t really used to the audience. Stage freight and all that. Gritting my teeth, I tried not to think about the uniformed guard breathing down my neck and finally got a trickle to come. Didn’t hurt as bad this time. I risked a glance down and the stream wasn’t even tinged pink. My kidneys must be getting better. My eye certainly was; I could finally see out of both of them again. I was still sore and bruised as hell but I felt a hundred times better today.

When I finished, I stepped back and zipped, only for the guard to glance past me and into the little bowl I’d had to pee into.

“Looks like you’re getting better,” he congratulated, patting me on the back hard enough to jar my tender ribs and make me want to weep from the pain. “No more blood in the urine.”

I gulped and sent him a sickened nod. Getting better meant one thing. It meant—

“We can get you back to general population now.”

That.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck. I didn’t want to go back to general population. I suddenly wished my piss had been a dark, scarlet red. I didn’t want to leave my safe, comfy infirmary.

“But—” I glanced longingly into the cell that I’d stayed in for two nights as the guard nudged me past it.

“Don’t worry. We’ll put you in a different pod this time around.”

Oh joy. A whole new group of convicts could kick my ass now.

“Can’t let you stay here forever,” the guard added, pressing on a button and then waiting until someone in control unlocked the door in front of us. As it swung open to lead into a hall, I resisted without meaning to, wanting to argue that yes, yes they could totally let me stay here forever. I was fine with staying.

“Move it, Hilliard,” he ordered.

Heaving out a sad sigh, I nodded and fell obediently into step, but it didn’t take long for my breathing to pick up, my vision to waver, and my body to go from ice cold to burning hot and back to ice cold again. After everything went totally gray and then came back blurry, I shook my head, trying to see better, expect I just couldn’t. My body was going into panic mode whether I liked it or not.

My heart was beating too fast, my hands were shaking too hard. If they put me back in with general population now, I think I’d literally scare myself to death. This was what I’d always imagined a heart attack would feel like.

“Here we are.”

Oh, shit. We were here already? Was this guy going to make another big announcement about me being a rapist? Were they going to start on me in the first thirty seconds again? What if I didn’t survive the beating this time?

Anxiety attack, here I come.

The door swung open, and I whimpered, fucking wussy-ass whimpered.

Yeah, they were going to kick my ass immediately.

When I didn’t enter immediately enough, the guard shoved me forward. I stumbled inside the pod and about two dozen guys stopped what they were doing to stare.

One scary-looking shaved-head motherfucker playing cards at a table snickered. “Nice,” he said before turning away disinterested and threw down two of his cards, demanding more.

Most everyone else lost interested as well. My equilibrium was still whack and everything went blurry and tipsy. My breathing wouldn’t slow down, but a hope bloomed inside my chest. Maybe they were going to leave me alone this time. God, I hoped so.

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