Chapter 26

Bailey

I woke up to Jensen’s warm body draped over mine. I’d never enjoyed sleeping wrapped up in a man’s arms, preferring to starfish all over the bed, arms and legs everywhere. It was different with Jensen, though. I liked his strength and the way it felt when he closed his arms around me. One of my favorite things about him was how different the inside and outside were.

Physically, he was huge and imposing, a force to be reckoned with.

Emotionally, he was kind and gentle, thoughtful and sexy.

I loved every part of him.

I loved him.

It didn’t matter that we’d only been together a month.

Or that we were still navigating new territory.

Everything felt right.

“Whatcha doin’?” he rumbled sleepily. “Other than watching me sleep?”

“Trying to figure out how to get out from under my mountain of a boyfriend without waking him up, so I can go pee.”

He chuckled, rolling to the side. “By all means.”

When I came back, he was waiting, and opened his arms for me to nestle back into them.

“New bed frame seems to be holding up,” he said.

“The men who’d installed it assured me it was sturdy, though I obviously didn’t tell them what happened to the old one.”

“You haven’t slept over at my place yet,” he said. “We need to break in my bed next.”

“Looking forward to it. Maybe we’ll break each of our old beds and buy new ones.”

He laughed. “Sure. If that makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.”

“You make me happy too.” He lifted my chin between two fingers, forcing me to look up at him. “You know that, right? Have I made it clear that I want to be with you? I wasn’t sure I needed to say the words, but I am.”

I swallowed, a wave of emotion hitting me.

“I wasn’t sure,” I admitted. “But I hoped so. That’s what I want too.”

“Hockey season is almost over for me,” he said. “Just over a month left and we’re in last place, so I’m ninety-percent sure we’re not going to the playoffs.”

“What does that mean for you? And for us?”

“Well, just that starting mid-April I’m free to basically do anything you want. Anything we want. I was thinking I want to take you home to meet my family in Minnesota. We usually try to plan a trip in the summer when we can all be there at the same time.”

“Do you know when?” I had a few things going on that I probably needed to share.

“It won’t be for a while because of the five of us boys, at least two are probably going to be in the playoffs. And depending on where and when, I’ll most likely want to go to some of those games.”

“Oh, that sounds nice, supporting your brothers in the playoffs.”

He hesitated. “Would you want to go with me? I really want you to meet everyone, not to mention my friends on the team. If we’re going to be together, I want you to be part of my life. This is more than just a gaming relationship now.”

Tightness filled my chest.

I knew what he was saying, and understood it intellectually, but emotionally was a different thing. My anxiety kicked into high gear at the thought of travel, meeting his friends, going to professional sporting events. I’d been working on it, but obviously I had more to do.

“Babe?” His voice was soft.

“I know.” I burrowed deep into his shoulder, hiding my face as if that would somehow make it easier to say what was on my mind.

“Bailey, what’s wrong? Don’t you want to meet my friends?”

“I do,” I whispered. “I’m just scared. You’ve said you don’t follow celebrities or Hollywood, but have you googled me?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Because it might explain… hang on.” I rolled over, grabbed my phone, and opened an app where I could go online. Then I typed in ‘Bailey Walker car accident.’ As expected, dozens of articles popped up. I clicked on one by a less-than-legitimate news source and handed him the phone.

He scanned it quietly, before shaking his head. “…her monstrous face forced her into retirement, and the Oscar-winning actress has not been seen in public since…” He handed me back the phone with a scowl. “That’s total bullshit. Why let them get away with it? Isn’t it libel or something if they flat-out lie?”

“Well, technically, I guess, the condition of my face is subjective. Maybe the guy who wrote it thinks my face is monstrous. He’s allowed to think I’m ugly.”

“Yeah, but ugly and monstrous are two different things.”

“Exactly. And this is why I don’t want to play the game. Sure, they’ll see my face is fine, but then they’ll zero in on my limp. The condition of my body. I still look okay, but I’m ten or fifteen pounds heavier than I was when I was acting, so by Hollywood standards, I’m probably fat and?—”

“Babe.” He cut me off, shaking his head. “You’re not fat. Under anyone’s standards. Certainly not mine.”

“Your friends? I’ve seen pictures of some hockey player girlfriends. They’re all tiny and perfect, with long, straight hair. Mostly blond. Like hockey Stepford wives.”

He burst out laughing. “I see you’ve been busy googling.”

“I’m serious, Jensen. I don’t want to be ridiculed. Just the thought of it stresses me out. I’ve got this movie script happening with LoveLand and they’re trying to make it part of the contract that I take a small part in the film. I don’t even want to do that.”

“Babe, I don’t care if you act or write or stay home and eat bonbons all day, but I think you’re depriving yourself of something you still want out of an irrational fear.”

“You weren’t there. Go back and keep reading those articles. They’re brutal. Dirk did a bunch of interviews about what happened, lying through his teeth, and made me look like a high-strung, neurotic diva who caused the accident that killed my driver. He deflected any blame by making me look bad, and in a he-said-she-said situation, no one will ever know the truth. I don’t want to dredge all that up again. It’s finally died down and I’m starting to feel like I can breathe again.”

“So you’re letting him change the course of your life and your entire future based on a lie?” He made a face. “Why didn’t you let me beat his ass?”

“Because he’s not worth it.”

“But babe, this movie could be huge for you. It could literally kickstart your career.”

“Or drown me in negativity that sucks all of my creativity away, making it impossible for me to even write, much less act.”

He sighed, running a hand through my hair. “You’re giving other people so much power over your life.”

“But it’s how I’m choosing to move forward. You have to respect that.”

“I do. There has to be some compromise, though. I won’t just hide away in the house for the rest of our lives. I don’t expect you to be at every game, but it would be nice to see you there sometimes, supporting me. For you to have relationships with the other wives and girlfriends. It matters. If you act standoffish, they’ll look for reasons to talk about you, which is the opposite of what you want.”

I hadn’t considered that, but I also never wanted him to feel like I didn’t support him.

“I want to meet your friends. I’ll come to games. If anything, I’ll use crutches in the beginning, until I’m more comfortable. People assume it’s a temporary thing, so they ask less questions.”

“How ever you want to manage it is fine with me. I just want you to be part of my life, Bailey. And hockey is a big component of it.”

“I know that. I just need you to be patient and let me ease into being seen in public again, but I’ll come to a game soon. Promise.”

“I can be patient.” He leaned up and lightly brushed his lips across mine, just as his stomach growled.

“Someone sounds hungry,” I teased.

“I’m a big boy, and not only did I play last night, someone gave me a post-hockey workout when I got home.”

I raised my eyebrows innocently. “Really? How inconsiderate. You should dump her. She doesn’t sound like a very good girlfriend.”

He cocked his head. “You wanna be my girlfriend, Bailey?”

“Aren’t I already?”

“I fucking hope so.”

“Then your girlfriend needs to get up and make you breakfast.”

“You don’t have to. I can run home and grab?—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I made an egg white quiche yesterday, with cheese, ground turkey, and veggies so all I have to do is pop it in the oven for twenty minutes and we’ll be read to eat. What time do you have to be at practice?”

“Eleven.”

“Then get up!” She nudged me with her toe and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She got to her feet and then immediately winced, sitting back down with a huff.

“Babe?” I sat up in alarm. “You okay?”

“Fucking hip.” She took a shaky breath. “Give me a minute.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. I need to stretch.” She scooted back and then laid flat. She lifted her right leg, bending at the knee and bringing her thigh close to her chest. She put her hands on her shin and held, closing her eyes as she softly counted to herself.

Thirty seconds.

Then she released and straightened her leg as much as she could, putting her hands on the back of her thigh to pull it as close to her chest as possible.

Another thirty seconds.

She repeated that on the other side before coming back to the right side.

“What about the surgery you mentioned?” I asked, watching carefully.

She grimaced. “I’ve had so many already. I don’t want to go through more pain and recovery just to find out nothing is any better. The first couple were necessary to repair the damage. Then they had to go in and remove some bone fragments they’d missed that were pinching nerves. It’s been one thing after another and when it’s all been said and done, I still have pain and the limp.”

“So nothing different about this surgery?”

I shrugged. “They want to do a total hip replacement, figuring that once there’s nothing but titanium in there, there can’t be much pain. There can still be issues with the nerves, of course, but there are a multitude of issues causing my pain now. The other thing is that because of the damage from the accident, and the ensuing arthritis, part of the hip and the socket itself have worn away. The hip replacement could potentially add as much as an inch to the height of my leg.”

“It doesn’t sound like there’s a downside to this,” he said slowly.

“I know it doesn’t sound rational from the outside looking in, but you didn’t live through what I did. The pain, the surgeries, the rehab and physical therapy. It was grueling. And a hip replacement would be major.”

“Yes, but you’d have me to help. I bet my mom would even fly out to help, depending on when we did it.”

“We?” I turned to him in frustration. “There’s no we! It would be me doing it. No one else, just me. Again.”

“Hey. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He came over and sat beside me, taking one of my hands in his. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be pushy. I just want you to be happy. I hate seeing you in pain.”

I huffed out a breath. “I know. I’m sorry too. It’s a touchy subject for me.”

“You’ve been through a lot. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks.” I sat up, rolling my shoulders. “I think I’m good now. Let’s go have breakfast.” I got up and hobbled into the bathroom to wash my face.

For some reason, hearing Jensen talk about taking care of me—having his mother come take care of me—made me want to cry. In a good way. No one had ever taken care of me, not even when I was a kid. I’d grown up fast and taken care of myself starting at about fourteen. My grandmother had paid the bills and put a roof over my head, but she’d been old and tired. There hadn’t been much maternal attention in my life, and my father had been less than useless.

The idea of having someone there to help me after surgery was a completely foreign concept to me. One I’d have to think about long and hard.

At some point.

Today, I had a gorgeous, sexy man to make breakfast for.