Chapter 38

Bailey was discharged not even thirty minutes ago, and we're already on our way to the morgue. They think they have Robert, however they need her to identify his body to be sure. I'm sure it's him though, if what they told me is any indication. They found the man in her car, and he refused to turn himself in, even shooting one of the police officers. Now, maybe someone else could've stolen her vehicle, but I highly doubt that. And usually, someone who refuses to turn themselves in is guilty—in my opinion.

While I'm glad he might be dead, I'm more worried about Bailey. Will she be glad, too? Or will she feel like justice wasn't served? More importantly, is she ready to face him, even in death? Or how will this affect her recovery? The closer we get to the location, the more questions run rampant through my mind. I don't want her to feel alone in her pain, even for one second. The fact of the matter is we're both hurting in some way. I could never pretend to understand what she's going through, and I won't try.

My pain is guilt. No matter how much she tells me not to feel it—I just can't help it. Every day, I wonder what could've been—had I gotten to her sooner.

Would I have been able to prevent her death?

What my life would be like without her by my side—because she'd be dead. I try not to think about that much, but it's hard. Her screams still echo in my ears, the ones I heard after I opened the car door, and then the worst part—silence. It's the silence that hurts me more than the anguish coming from her mouth, knowing what that silence brought her.

Death.

And I don't think either one of us will ever recover from that.

No matter how much she pretends to be okay or how she puts on a brave face for everyone or when I feign sleep every night in her hospital room, the bed shakes with her sobs. Every time, I would get up from my recliner and comfort her.

Except it still doesn't feel like I'm doing enough.

My leg bounces as I drive, and Bailey rests her small, warm hand over my thigh. I gaze down at her dainty fingers and briefly wonder what they'd look like with a rock on her ring finger. Then again, maybe not something so big; she's a subtle girl. She doesn't seem to be the one who likes flashy things. In fact, I know she's not. Low-key and heartfelt are her personality, and one day, I will give it to her. Give her everything. The entire world will be at her disposal. However, first things first—moving in. At least until she's ready to go back on her own and?—

"What are you thinking about?" Bailey asks softly, her hand tightening around my thigh.

I look at the GPS to see how long we have until we get there. Five minutes. Maybe this isn't a conversation we should be having before identifying a dead body, the dead body of the man who ruined her life, yet in a way it also feels like closure. I need her to know I'm not taking her to her apartment. No, I'm bringing her home.

"Baby," I take a deep breath, bracing myself for a fight. "I'm not taking you to your studio."

"I know," she responds immediately.

"You do?" My brows furrow in confusion. Did I do something to make it that obvious? "And you're fine with it?"

Turning my face briefly toward her, I see her shrug. "I don't want to be there. I don't want to be alone anymore."

"I want you to move in," I blurt. "I know you could always be with Cheyenne, and perhaps I'm selfish—but I want you to be with me." She doesn't say anything, nodding slowly as if trying to analyze every word coming out of my mouth. "If you want, after you recover, we could look for an apartment for you again." No way in hell, but I'll never say that to her. I'll just convince her to not leave my side again in this lifetime.

"And if I say no?"

My stomach drops, but I refrain from grimacing. "No means no, Bailey." I shrug with a nonchalance I don't feel. I'm sure she knows that it would kill me, but for her, I'd do anything. "Whatever you choose, I'm here."

"I've been stuck in the hospital for three weeks, Theo," Bailey replies quietly, and when I peer over at her, she's ripping at her fingernails. It bothers me, the way she's always nervous now. Her anxiety heightens mine since I know how much she's hurting. It fucking kills me that he made it even worse. "I want to be with you."

My heart flutters in my chest, and I swear my stomach does a little flip-flop. "I swear to God, Bailey." My hand wraps around her small one over my lap. "Whatever you want in this life will be yours. From now until your last breath."

"I've already had one of those, Theo." She squeezes my hand. "I'm a dead girl walking."

My stomach drops. "But you won't have a last breath again until we're old and wrinkly, baby." At least, that's what I try to convince her of, being that the alternative is just too morbid to face. She's going to live a long life. Robert is gone.

"I hope so." She whispers.

I pull into the parking lot of the building, where my GPS has just directed me, and take the spot right in front of the doors that reads visitors. I've never been more grateful to get special parking, especially because if this is it—if he's dead—we can get out of here quickly if she wants.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I allow my head to fall back onto the headrest and close my eyes. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs to the brim, and then exhale slowly. I don't know why I'm so nervous, or maybe this feeling is helplessness. Whatever it is, I don't like it.

However when I open my eyes again, Bailey is sitting beside me, calmly, more than she should be. Her eyes don't have tears, and her hands aren't trembling. She's sure of herself, unlike me. It sounds stupid to pull from her strength—when she should be depleted—but I do. I straighten in my seat and force myself to press the brake and push the button to turn off the car.

"Ready?" I whisper, not trusting my voice.

"More than ever."

I get out of the car and go around to open her door, and then we both walk into the building together. It looks like a police station; I only know this because my father is a cop. When we reach the reception desk, the lady hands me a clipboard to sign in. We both do, then hand it back and sit down to wait until we're called back.

It only takes a few minutes before we're called back, and we follow the lady down the hallway and to the back of the building. A set of double doors opens for us, and the space suddenly feels like a walk-in freezer, which I suppose it is. Bailey is dressed for the cold for once though, thankfully, since I made sure she had a jacket to leave the hospital.

But still, I ask, "Do you need my jacket?"

Bailey glances at me with a smirk. "I have my own."

I shrug, "You can have mine too."

"I'm fine, Theo."

We follow after the lady all the way to some gurney. The person on it is covered with a blanket, not even his feet showing. An older man with white hair and glasses is waiting for us next to the gurney, and his white lab coat reaches all the way to his knees.

"My name is Mr. Brown." He says, "And I've asked you here to help us identify the body. Now, before I remove the blanket, you need to know that he has been shot in the forehead." Mr. Brown stares right at Bailey. "Are you going to be okay with that?"

I don't want to put words in her mouth, but what's a gunshot to the forehead when she has to look at the scars he left on her stomach every day for the rest of her life? Thanks to this motherfucker, now she has a stab wound and gunshot wound from him.

"Yeah." She nods. "I'm fine."

"Alright, ma'am." He grips the edge of the blanket and begins to lift it up, then lowers it all the way down to his waist. "Could you help us identify this man?"

We both gaze down at the corpse of the man who killed her too, and my jaw tics. His face is ashen, his lips a light gray. Suddenly, a sense of satisfaction fills me. That is, until Bailey's bottom lip trembles and she starts to sob. Now, I don't want to be the one to tell someone how to feel after the death of someone they know, but after everything he's done, this is not how I expected her to react. Not even a little bit.

"Ma'am?"

"Robert Hull." She wails, moving back from the gurney. "This is the man who raped and killed me."

Mr. Brown nods once and begins to pull the blanket back over the body, but Bailey holds up her hand. "Yes?" he asks.

"Could you give us some privacy?" Her bottom lip continues to quiver, and I bet if it weren't for that, she wouldn't get away with shit. Though right now, I'm so surprised by her reaction that nothing else shocks me anymore.

"Of course," Mr. Brown says, walking past me to the door. I nod once at him and begin to follow him out.

"Not you," she calls out. "You stay, Theodore."

My spine straightens at my full name, and I back up again to where I initially stood—right behind her. I don't dare touch her, though I can feel her body heat. When I see her shoulders start to shake, I want to reach out and wrap my arms around her.

Only I don't.

Her sobs echo in the empty space, bouncing off the walls and metal lockers where I imagine even more dead people reside. She could be in there—she would be, if it weren't for me. It's hard to think about that though, especially when the man who put her there is lying dead in front of us. No, I don't want to think about her death—I want to enjoy his.

I reach out to rub her back with her next sob, but it quickly turns into a cackle. I won't lie; the quick emotional turn scares me a bit, so I step back. I won't say she's unhinged right now, but I can't blame her either way.

I stay behind her, offering comfort if she needs it, yet out of her way all the same. Because I don't know what the hell to expect or even what emotions I'm dealing with here.

Closing my eyes, I take a slow breath in, then let it out. Except when I open my eyes again, the last thing I expect to see is happening right before my eyes. Bailey is against the gurney, the edge of it against her stitches that are barely now healing, and with her small fist, she pulls his hair and exposes his throat to the room.

"I did it, motherfucker." She giggles, and the hairs on my arms stand on end. "I escaped you." A little growl comes from her, making her fucking vicious. She may have been a victim three weeks ago, but right now? She's a warrior. "And there's nothing you can do about it, ever again."

There's a pause, and she lets go of his hair, stepping back.

"I win." Bailey steps back again, until she runs into me and my front plasters to her back. "I'm free."

"Yes, you are, baby," I assure her, a grin taking over my face. She's so damn strong.

Bailey grabs my hand and begins to pull me toward the door, but before we exit, she says over her shoulder, "Oh, and fuck you."

I squeeze her hand once. "That's my girl," I murmur.

Then we get the fuck out of there.

A few hours later, after stopping by her studio for some of her belongings, we're back at my place. Bailey is perched on the couch with her ankles crossed over my coffee table and a blanket draped over her lap. A Kindle is nestled in her hands, and she doesn't even notice when I open the front door and get a delivery of molten lava cake—her favorite. She still doesn't even notice until I offer it to her. That's how engrossed she is in this book.

I give her a soft smile. "Cake, baby?"

She looks up at me with doe eyes and bites her bottom lip into her mouth. "You remembered?"

"I remember everything, Bailey." Everything about her, us.

"Fine," she squeaks, putting her Kindle device down and patting the spot right next to her on the couch. "But only if you help me eat it."

"Let me guess." I pretend to think. "You want some Belly love triangle?"

"Duh." She rolls her eyes.

"Well, I hate to break it to you," I reply as she takes the first bite of the cake, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. "I already finished the season."

"No fucking way!" She gasps, making me laugh. "You didn't do that. You don't even like it."

"Is that why you like to make me watch it?" I grin, letting a chuckle slip through. "I really did finish it, though."

"What happens then?"

"The most fucked up thing I've ever witnessed." I sigh. "Does bro code not exist anymore? What the fuck was that about?"

"Bro code isn't even a thing." Bailey smirks. "Clearly."

"But they're literally brothers, Bailey."

"My point exactly." We both laugh. "Apparently, bro code dies when a cute girl steps in."

"Not for me." I shake my head, knowing I'd never betray my brothers—my friends.

"Alright, but are you Team Jellyfish now, or what?"

"I don't know, B." I shake my head to rile her up, knowing damn well that's what she was trying to accomplish from the beginning. For us to root for the same couple. "Conrad really did love her. I think he was just going through something. I think they are end game."

"Fuck that!" Bailey squeals. "No way! Conrad is a fucking tool. Jeremiah is definitely end game."

"We won't find out until next season." I wink at her, taking a spoonful of the cake. "Right?"

"Awww." She pretends to wipe under her eyes. "Are you saying you'll be here long enough to watch it?"

"Baby, I'm not going anywhere," I tell her as my heart speeds up in my chest. "Ever."

"Forever is a long time, Theo." But she says it with a grin, and when she puts the plate on the coffee table and straddles my lap, my heart somersaults. "Is that how long you want me for?"

"Yes," I growl without hesitation, then gently press my lips to hers. I don't know how long she'll need before I can touch her again, so I keep my hands to myself. "Mine, baby. You're mine forever."

"Nothing will steal me away from you, Theo." She grins, pressing her nose to mine and brushing them against each other. "I love you."

"I love you." I cup her cheeks and pull away, trying to look into her eyes. "Will you move in with me?"

"Move in?" She gasps. "Permanently?"

"As soon as you're better." I nod once. "I never want you away from me again."

Bailey's eyes brim with tears and her nostrils flare in an attempt to prevent them from falling. "I'd love that."

"You're safe here, baby," I tell her. "Nothing will ever happen to you on my watch ever again."

I meant every word I said. However, nothing will happen to her again while I still have breath in my lungs. I'd rather cut my own heart out of my chest before witnessing her pain again.