8. Bailey

Chapter 8

Bailey

B ailey tried with all his might to pay attention to the stunning woman sitting across the table from him. It was his weekend, two days where he didn’t have to train or play soccer, and he had taken the opportunity to go out on a date with a girl he’d met during one of his morning runs down the coastal esplanade.

Lilah was beautiful. She was a fitness junkie and a bit of a hipster, much like himself, and they’d bonded over the unavailability of oat milk at their mutual favourite coffee shop at the end of their accidentally shared run. She had long dark hair and pretty blue eyes…but he couldn’t help thinking that AJ’s eyes were prettier.

As they ate their dinner of ethically sourced grilled salmon on a bed of sauteed greens, he had learned that she was a preschool teacher and that had also sent his thoughts hurtling back to his coach and the little girl who had rapidly wormed her way into his heart.

Ava Jacobs —who adamantly refused to be called ‘Mini AJ’ or ‘AJ the Second’, despite all of his best attempts— had initially reminded Bailey of the nieces in Adelaide he so sorely missed. But over the past weeks, his attachment had shifted from using her as a distraction and a stand-in to actually loving the little spitfire, and he could tell she adored him just as much. Which was understandable, really, because he was awesome. Of course she could see that.

“…and I’m boring the crap out of you.” Lilah finished whatever it was she’d been saying with a self-deprecating grimace. “Sorry.”

Bailey felt terrible. “Nah, it’s not you. I’m just distracted. Work stuff.”

She arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow and sipped at her purple and blue cocktail through a straw. “Work? But, I mean…you’re a soccer player.”

He frowned at that and sat back in his chair. Until he’d been scouted to captain the Gold Coast Thunder (no, he hadn’t had any say in the name, but he was aware that it made them sound like some kind of all-male revue instead of a soccer team), he had been playing for Adelaide as a semi-professional player and earning extra income as a ride-share driver. Once he’d made captain, he was officially considered a professional player and was being paid as such. It was enough that he no longer needed to supplement his income, but nowhere near the kind of money the European leagues paid their players.

Regardless, he was proud of his job. He worked hard at it. He wanted to take his team at least to the semi-finals for their first ever season on the ladder.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, well it’s more than just running around on the pitch kicking the ball. We train, and learn different plays, and…” at the glazed look in her eyes, he sighed and poked at a stalk of asparagus with the tines of his fork. “Never mind.”

Awkward silence descended and, just as he was about to rally in an attempt to rescue the meal, his phone rang. He hesitated to answer it for a moment, but Lilah just waved a dismissive hand over her plate. “It’s fine.”

Fishing the device from his pocket, he frowned when he saw the words ‘Coach calling’ on his screen. It was late —a glance at his watch surprised him with just how late— and there wasn’t any soccer-related reason the man would be calling him on their shared days off.

“Coach?” he answered hesitantly.

“Pete— Bailey ,” AJ’s voice was strained, and, in the background of the call, Bailey could hear Ava wailing. He sat up straighter. “I’m sorry to call, but” —a louder wail made even Bailey wince, and he wasn’t anywhere near the source of the sound— “I…I don’t have anyone else.”

Cutting an apologetic glance in Lilah’s direction, Bailey threw his napkin over his meal and readied himself to leave. “No, no, don’t apologise. What do you need?”

Bailey let himself into the Jacobs house with the spare key AJ had given him only a couple of days earlier, when he had volunteered to take Ava home and entertain her while AJ went into a corporate meeting. He headed into the kitchen with his canvas bags to unpack the supplies he’d grabbed from the late-night chemist on his drive over from the restaurant, spurred into action by the pleading and defeat in AJ’s voice during their call.

Ava was sick. It sounded like a bout of gastro, but she had been inconsolable, and AJ had no idea what to do. Bailey would have been a Grade A arsehole if he hadn’t offered to help. Lilah had seemed almost relieved when he’d ended the date early, and he doubted they’d line up another one.

Somehow, that didn’t disappoint him, even though she was gorgeous and they could have had a lot of fun together.

But, now that he was in AJ’s home, he felt more relaxed than he had on that date.

Weird.

He grabbed an oral syringe full of a standard five-year-old’s dose of kids’ Panadol and a bottle of premade Hydralyte and went in search of the miserable little girl and her equally miserable father. He found them in the main bathroom, AJ seated on the tiled floor with his back against the wall under the towel rack, and Ava sniffling in a deep bubble bath. Even the bubblegum scent from the tub couldn’t disguise the lingering acrid smell of vomit. He crinkled his nose against the unpleasant combination of both.

“It’s on me,” AJ sighed. “And the carpet in her room. And probably embedded in the grout in the hallway.”

Bailey whistled his awe. “Sounds like an epic spew.”

The sheer disbelief on AJ’s face would have been amusing if it didn’t look like the older man was close to tears himself.

“Here,” Bailey held up his offerings, “I’ll get this into her and you go wash up as well. I’ll get the carpet in her room in a bit.”

“You don’t have to—”

“AJ. You look dead on your feet. Go, I’ve got this. I looked after my nephews when both of them and their parents got gastro last year. It wasn’t pretty, but I’ve got this down pat now.”

“It’s not your responsibility…”

“Yeah… nah , mate. I’m your friend, and you look like you’re one more upchuck away from a total meltdown. Go . Princess Ava and I will be fine.” He shooed his coach out of the room, then sighed when he heard water running in the laundry next door. Stepping out of the bathroom to glance into the laundry, with its long, marbled bench and pristine washer and dryer, he tilted his head at his coach. “What’d I just say?”

AJ paused with the bucket and sponge in his hands. “I might as well clean it before I have my shower. I’ve already changed her sheets.”

Before Bailey could argue, Ava cried out in alarm, and he bolted back into the bathroom just in time to watch her bend forward and throw up into her bath water.

He sighed again. “Poor chookie,” he cooed, his heart squeezing as she burst into renewed tears. “How about you hop in the shower to rinse off, we’ll get some meds into you, and then we can grab a bucket and cuddle on the couch?”

“Can we watch a Christmas movie?” she asked miserably.

He wasn’t going to deny her anything. “Sure, princess. Do you have a favourite?”

“I like the one with all the singing puppets and Kermit the frog.”

Lips quirking, Bailey nodded. “You’ve got good taste. I liked that one when I was growing up, too.”