Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)

I suck in a hissing breath like I’ve just been sucker punched.

“What are you doing?” she asks, carrying on with her stream of consciousness as I take a seat beside her on the bed.

“Rubbing some lotion on my feet.”

“As one does in the middle of the night,” she replies dryly.

I snort and carry on, propping one foot over my quad to spread cool cream over the mottled skin.

Bailey watches without speaking.

I glance at her and her eyes flick to mine but drop back to my foot. I swap to the opposite foot and start rubbing. I wish I could say it was making them better, but my hands just feel like chafing on raw skin. I growl in frustration, refusing to look up at her.

The silence between us is almost awkward.

And then Bailey says, “It rubs the lotion on its skin,” in the softest, most sugary voice.

I crack up.

My feet burn like I’m stuck in that fucking cave, but I didn’t laugh then. “Bailey!” I wheeze her name and tears prick at my eyes. “Please tell me you did not just quote The Silence of the Lambs right now.”

Her melodic laughter caresses my ears and the bed shakes beneath us as we both laugh over the creepiest fucking quote she could have pulled out.

But that’s Bailey. Saying random shit at random moments.

“Woman, you’re out of control.” I wipe at the corners of my eyes, smelling the non-scented lotion that smells like a hospital to me.

“Come on. You gotta tell me why we’re silently sitting here side by side, rubbing cream onto our feet in the middle of the night.”

I’m still chuckling when I offer her an explanation. “Phantom burn pain, according to Google.”

“And your doctor?”

I grunt.

“Beau.”

“I haven’t asked. Not a big doctor guy.”

“Therapist?”

I give her a wry look. “You saying I need therapy?”

“I’d go if I could afford it. Gotta take care of yourself, Beau. If you don’t, who will?” As she scolds me about taking care of myself, she crawls out from under the covers, moving down toward the end of the bed. Then she peeks up at me, folding her hand in a come-hither motion. “Give me a foot.”

“Apparently, you will.”

She yanks my foot into her lap, hands wrapping over the sensitive skin so gently. The burning sensation instantly soothes under her touch. Her dainty fingers trail over my limbs with a feather-light touch. She spreads the moisturizer up over my ankle, pressing more firmly at the back of my calf.

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Might as well be my fiancée,” I say, eyes fixed on her face.

When she looks at me, I wonder if she’ll correct it to fake fiancée. I’ve used the term twice tonight. I’m testing our boundaries, waiting for her to put me back in line.

But she doesn’t.

“Might as well be,” she agrees softly.

Her hands work and we both get lost in watching until she asks, “What did you eat in that cave for eight days?”

“Rations from my kit. A sip of water here and there. It wasn’t much, but just enough for us each to have a bit each day. We ran out the day before they rescued us. Micah was starving, so he got more of the dried rations.”

“So you just didn’t eat?”

“I didn’t say that. I had to at least stay strong enough to get us out when the time came.”

“Alright. So … ”

“Cockroaches.” I grin as I say it, ready for her to get all squeamish. But I should know better by now. She doesn’t.

And she doesn’t offer me sympathy for it either, which is something I constantly brace for when I talk about those days. I don’t want sympathy; I want to feel normal again.

I want to feel something again, and with Bailey, I do.

Her hands keep working, and her lips part and close. Like she was about to say something and then thought better.

“Were they good?”

That’s what she comes up with. She is priceless.

“They kept me alive. Not gonna be ordering them at a restaurant anytime soon.”

She smiles, switching to my other foot and propping it over her thighs.

“Speaking of delicious foods.” I chuckle at her transition, my eyes fluttering as the burning sensation slips away. “I had brunch with Willa, Sloane, and Summer today. Well, yesterday, I guess.”

“Terrifying. But go on.”

“It was nice. I wasn’t having a very good day. Applied at the hair salon and got told the position had been filled. Spoiler alert: it hadn’t.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“And then some guy was a dick to me at Le Pamplemousse.”

“Bailey—”

She waves me off. “It’s alright, Willa swooped in and … ” She pauses, smiling while staring off into space. “Willa fucking lost it on him.”

That makes me smile too. “Good.” In my book, Willa is one of the best. Actually, all those women are.

“They seemed a little confused when I told them I was saving up to leave town. I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I just—”

“You’re an honest person. It’s okay.”

She nods. “And then, Summer offered me a job.”

I sit up straighter at that. “Yeah?”

She nods, lips rolling together, looking a little bashful over it. “Yeah. But Beau … ” Big brown eyes flick up to mine. “You didn’t ask her to do that, did you?”

“No.”

“Because it seems like a bit of a handout, and I already feel like a welfare case. It would embarrass me if you were maneuvering like that behind my back. You’re already doing enough. I need to achieve some of my successes on my own.”

“I didn’t.” I swallow, my body taut.

Her eyes are wide, earnest, searching. “Promise me you didn’t create a job for me.”

“I promise I didn’t create that job for you with Summer.”

She sighs a deep sigh, shoulders softening as she releases the breath. “Okay, good.”

“I—” I start to talk and then … stop. Switching gears, I blurt, “I think I want to become a fireman.”

She stops rubbing my foot as her head quirks. “Yeah?”

“I thought a lot about what you said that night. About doing something I want to do, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life working this land. It seems weird to switch careers and start something new at this age—”

“It’s not weird at all. You’d be incredible at that.”

Leave it to Bailey to support me more than I care to support myself. “I think a lot of the skills I learned in the military could be applied there.”

She bites at her lip in the most distracting way. “Yeah, I don’t think firemen do any stealthy undercover work, so you’d probably be fine.”

I gently shove a foot at her, toppling her back, and we both laugh.

Always picking on me.

“Beau Eaton, tier one operator.” She waves a hand in front of herself like my name is the title on a movie poster. “Asker of obvious questions. Shaver of pussies.”

I lunge for her with a laugh. “Bailey, get your snarky ass up here.” Arms around her waist, I haul her to me and soak her laughter in, letting it soothe what’s inside me the way her hands soothed my feet. She squirms and squeals as I cage her in, leaning over to click my bedside light off.

I turn, flopping down and wrapping my body around her the way I did that night on the riverbank. Been dreaming of holding her like this since then, so I might as well capitalize on it while the opportunity is still here.

With my arms around her torso and my leg slung over hers, she finally settles. Her laughter eases into a light, contented sigh.

“How are your feet?” She pushes back into me, pressing her back flush against my front, and I drop a kiss to her hair.

“Better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” is her soft reply.

I shut my eyes, assuming now is the time we go to sleep.

But I should know better than to assume anything where Bailey is concerned.

“Hey, Beau?”

I sigh raggedly. “Yes, Bailey.”

“Why didn’t you let me put your cock in my mouth earlier?”