Loving Bailey Read Online Free PDF Page A

owed Ashton an apology for his
thoughtlessness.
    The odd quiet of the house in the noisy
neighborhood gave him pause as he reached the door. He shook off
his unease and knocked. Clinging to the memory of that gentle brush
of lips over his forehead at the party earlier, he knocked again,
louder, when there was no answer.
    "Ashton?" he called out, stepping aside to
peer through the small gap the partially rolled shades left. The
couch was empty, Ashton's stack of essays he'd never gotten back to
grading last night still sat on the hardwood floor. Perhaps his
boyfriend was in his bedroom or out in the tiny backyard?
    Stepping off the crushed shell walkway,
Bailey listened to the crunching of dry grass underfoot as he made
his way across the compact lawn to the five foot privacy fence and
gate that blocked off the equally small back garden from the front
yard. The gate wasn't locked and swung inward with a metallic
rattle as the garden implements suspended from hooks on its
interior side were jostled with the movement.
    He closed the gate behind him and cocked his
head to listen to the tinkling wind chimes. Another weekend
project; he and Ashton had created the wind chimes with driftwood
and shells, and they hung on opposite eaves of the little cottage
to catch the ocean breezes. The soothing ripple of an Asian
inspired bamboo water fountain lured him deeper into the garden. It
encouraged him to believe that his boyfriend was inside somewhere.
The self-contained fountain required a small motor, and it wasn't
like Ashton to leave the water feature on when he wasn't home.
    He followed the crushed shell path to the
back door, noting dry grass and un-watered plants, the darkness of
the single kitchen window. Growing worried by the conflicting
information, he shut off the fountain with a remote control.
Reaching into a tiny copper kettle, he retrieved the key to the
back door.
    Knocking loudly once more, he called out,
"Ashton? Ashton, it's me!"
    When there was still no answer, he unlocked
the door and entered the tiny house.
    A few minutes inspection determined it was
empty. Ashton wasn't in bed, he wasn't in the shower, and he wasn't
in the minute kitchen or the living room.
    He wasn't home. Bailey sank onto the couch
and sent text messages to his father, Eden, and his brother letting
them know that he would be late. He turned on the television and
selected a documentary on arctic wildlife to watch while he waited
for Ashton to return from wherever he'd gone.
    As time passed and one show melded into
another, he grew more and more worried. By nine he'd texted Ashton
twice without answer. By ten he'd discarded his intent not to
appear controlling and possessive and called twice.
    By midnight his concern had turned to anger
and his imagination was out of control.
    At one, he locked the house carefully behind
him and drove home with the exaggerated care of someone who didn't
dare let his emotions control his actions. He nearly woke Eden or
his dad to talk, but instead, shuffled off to bed, torn between a
variety of emotions. Anger at Ashton, worry for his boyfriend's
safety, hurt that he was being shut out and ignored.

Chapter Five
     
    "I fucked up," Ashton croaked out as he let
himself in his front door. His head pounded; his body ached from
sleeping cramped up on a tiny couch in the lounge area of Arlo's
boat. His heart was a little battered, but he'd awakened more
secure and emotionally at ease than he'd been when he passed
out.
    He'd crept off Arlo's boat, suppressing
nausea all the while, and walked back to the bar to find his car in
the lot. He intended to shower, grab a coffee, and head to Bailey's
house to apologize. His phone had reproached him with text messages
and voicemails all the way over from the harbor. Guilt over his
thoughtlessness had replaced all his boundless doubts about Bailey.
Arriving at his cottage, their cottage, to find Lucy parked out
front had altered his plans just a little.
    "It's okay, honestly."