Ripped - 16. Chapter 16

--Bailey—

When the alarm clock woke him the next morning, Bailey fought off the urge to just turn it off and roll back over. He'd laid awake for so long listening to his mom and Daniel watching a movie downstairs. He hadn't been able to finally sleep until he'd heard the front door close and Daniel Kirsch's Toyota drive off.

He hated the man. And it made no sense. The lawyer had been nothing but nice to him. Making the extra effort to include him in the dinner conversations, showing interest in his gymnastics and school work, wanting to know if he had any hobbies. And his mom encouraged it, watching Bailey intently for his reaction to Kirsch's overtures. Like she was hoping Bailey would encourage her flirtations with the man.

That wasn't happening.

"I'm so glad we could finally get together for dinner. It seems like every time I've tried to get us together, poor Bailey is busy with school work," his mom had beamed as she set out the lasagna she'd made. Bailey glared at it. It had been his favorite. And the last time he'd had it had been the last time his father had sat at this table for dinner with them. Their last time as a family.

Bailey had almost run from the room right then. How could she make it... for him? He cut his eyes at the man next to him, who started to smile at him but it faltered.

"It looks delicious." Daniel turned his gaze to Bailey's mom. "I haven't had homemade lasagna in forever."

"Shouldn't be having it now," Bailey had mumbled under his breath.

"What, sweetheart?" His mom asked absently as she turned to grab the serving spatula from the drawer. It jammed as it usually did, and she tried shoving it back in again.

"Nothing." Bailey started to shove back his chair. "You know, I'm not hungry—"

"What?" His mom whipped around, staring at him with a broken look on her face. "But I made your favorite! Please, sweetie, you have to eat. You can't live on those silly protein bars."

She actually appeared hurt, and Bailey relented, dropping back down in his seat. She beamed, her eyes lighting up as she glanced from him to Daniel.

"I remember living on those when I was younger too," Kirsch piped up, reaching his hand out to pat Bailey's to obviously try to make some kind of connection.

But Bailey snatched his hand back, causing Daniel to gape at him in horror. "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It's okay," his mom was saying, waving off the man's apology. She looked at Bailey pleadingly. "You just startled him is all."

Bailey bit at his lip and didn't say anything. His mom was obviously trying desperately to make this a nice meal. Why, Bailey couldn't understand, other than to impress Daniel Kirsch. Why she picked the same meal she'd last shared with her real family to show off to the lawyer didn't make any sense to him.

She made one last shove at the drawer, and Bailey remembered it was one of those items on the to-do list, like fixing the shed door, that his father hadn't been able to finish. Bailey had debated fixing it himself, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He still wanted his father to make good on his promises. To come home. To be there when he graduated. To fix the damn shed door and kitchen drawer.

Daniel got up and leaned behind Bailey's mom, encircling her waist as he reached around her to help her finagle the drawer back into place. Bailey heard his mom sigh and sag back against the lawyer briefly before the man placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. They turned back to the table, his mom's face pinked and smiling.

"Here we go," his mom said cheerfully as she served large, gooey squares of the cheesy pasta dish.

"Mmm, delicious, Michelle," Daniel smiled.

"Well, my mom made sure I knew how to make a few things before I left home, God bless her soul." His mom took a stuttering breath, and Bailey knew she was probably thinking about all of the loved ones she'd lost, hopefully including his father.

Daniel reached out and covered her hand softly. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "She was such a funny lady."

Bailey paused mid-bite. How the hell did he know what his grandma was like? Bailey hardly even remembered her since she'd died when he was three.

His mom playfully slapped at Daniel's arm. "She did enjoy you coming around."

"What?" Bailey blurted out before he could stop himself, dropping his fork with a clatter.

Both of them looked at him in mild surprise.

"W-what are you talking about?" Bailey's eyes narrowed at the intruder.

"Bailey, sweetheart, don't you remember me talking about having known Daniel in high school?"

Bailey was shaking his head, unsure of what was happening. They'd known each other before?

Daniel Kirsch was nodding. "Your mother and I did theater together in high school."

"And when we moved here, and your father was looking to update his... his paperwork before he..." her voice dropped at the mention of the kind of papers his father would have been verifying were up-to-date before his redeployment. "Well, I saw Daniel's name in the recommended list of attorneys from his base, and..." She waved her hand at Daniel as if that explained it all.

Bailey's eyes darkened. "Did dad know?"

His mom frowned. "Know what?"

"That he was hiring your ex-boyfriend," he nearly spat.

Daniel's eyes widened, and his mom laughed, clutching her hand to her chest.

"Oh, no, we were never like that back then. He was a couple years older than me, a senior when I was only a sophomore. We were friendly, hung out at drama parties after a show, but that was it."

"Her mom often hosted the parties," Daniel clarified how he would also know his mom's mom.

"Oh." Bailey glanced between two, a little abashed at his accusation.

His mom leaned closer; he watched her hand as she slowly reached out to grab his wrist. "When... when your father..." She took a deep breath. "When your father died, Daniel only reached out again to offer comfort. And I've... well, I've enjoyed reconnecting to someone."

She reached over to squeeze Daniel's forearm, a longing smile on her face. The man smiled back, softly patting her hand where it rested on his arm.

"I'm not here to replace your dad, Bailey," Daniel said. "I would never do that. I just want to help. Both you and your mother. Is that okay?"

Bailey saw his mom's hopeful, pleading expression and bit the inside of his cheek. He just nodded, unable to say the words that would give his mom permission to dismiss his father for this new man.

Bailey barely ate three more bites of the meal, pushing it around on his plate as his mom and Daniel tried to draw him into their conversation. After a while, the man finally gave up. His mom didn't look thrilled at his one or two word responses and actually appeared relieved when Bailey finally asked to be excused.

He'd crashed on his bed, exhausted. His mind racing though a gamut of emotions. He had actually felt a little happy today, with Declan, Evan, and his teammates at lunch. Then the unusual practice had a sliver of pride and accomplishment slipping in. And his meet up with Declan at the deli had him feeling... nervous? excited? maybe even a little giddy? Before he'd fallen back into panic mode.

Then to find his mom smiling and looking... fucking happy... And they'd known each other. How had he missed that? He grunted to himself as he knew how; he'd never paid much attention to his parents conversations about business affairs. His stomach tried to rebel on him as he thought of Daniel sitting in his father's spot eating—

Fuck. He darted for the bathroom, barely making it.

"Honey! Are you alright?" His mother's footsteps raced up the stairs.

"I'm fine," he muttered, spitting in the toilet one last time before pulling himself off the floor to rinse his mouth and brush his teeth.

She swept into the room. Her cool hand immediately on his forehead. At one time he would have relished her touch, but right now, he ducked away from her. "I'm fine," he grunted again.

"You don't sound fine." Her hands propped on her hips. "You don't feel like you have a fever, but you just—"

"It was something I ate earlier," he snapped at her. "I stopped at the deli with some friends."

She raised her brow; he never stopped to hang out with anyone. "You did? With who? Was it that Justin kid—?"

"No, just a guy. His name is Declan. He's—He's a...a football player," he admitted softly.

Her brows furrowed, her face darkening in concern. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"What, mom? Talking to a football player?" He rolled his eyes. "He's just a guy. We talked."

"But..." she paused. "I just don't want anything to happen... I know something happened with that Mason guy, but—"

Bailey jerked straight up. He'd never told her, and his father swore he'd never tell what happened. Hell, if Bailey could have kept his dad from finding out, he would have. But his dad was too perceptive, noticed the bruises...

"What do you mean?"

His mom snapped her mouth shut at Bailey's tone, but then continued. "Sweetie, I wish you'd tell me. I know you talked to your father... but now he's gone and you need to—"

Fury boiled up in his chest, and he shoved past her. "I know what I need to do—get good grades, make him proud, don't screw up. You've told me plenty of times. Got the message."

He slammed into his room, banging the door closed. He'd eventually heard her head back downstairs, heard her voice mingling with Daniel Kirsch's deeper baritone. He stumbled to his bed, curling into a ball. His fist clenched, nails biting into his palm.

He needed it.

He didn't want to need it.

But the throbbing in his head and the tiny prick of pain on his palms wasn't enough to stave off the panic of emotions. He fumbled for the sliver of a razor he had tucked under the edge of his mattress. He lifted it, turning it over in his hand. He didn't have the energy to sit up, so the usual spots on his thighs or hips were out. He debated his arms briefly, but Coach and his team would notice that in practice tomorrow. He glanced down at his chest.

Bringing the edge of the blade to a point in the middle of his chest, he drew it down the center. He already had one faint scar there before he'd settled on his hip and thigh. The deliciously sweet pain caused him to suck in a breath. He opened his eyes to see tiny dots of blood welling up from the cut. He took several breaths, reveling in the floaty feeling of the physical pain helping to leech away his emotional agony.

Slowly, drops of blood collected until they ran a line down to his navel. He finally reached over to grab a tissue, dabbing up the crimson streaks before they dribbled onto the sheets.

He'd held a second tissue in place until the bleeding stopped, simply staring at the ceiling. His mind drifting, unable to stay on one thought: his mom, Daniel Kirsch, his classes, his paper, Justin, Chris, his dad, his Coach, Declan...

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

Yeah... Declan...

***

That had been the thought he'd finally fallen asleep to somewhere in the witching hours of the morning. Bailey rolled over to find he still had the tissue stuck to his chest from last night. He grimaced, peeled it off, and headed off to the bathroom. He threw the bloody tissues in the toilet before relieving himself.

After washing up and brushing his teeth, he briefly prodded at the spot on his chest, testing the scabs. He'd have to be careful not to rub too hard with that one. His school shirts were usually lighter colored to go with his usual black slacks, track pants, or gym shorts. Any bleeding might show through.

He quickly prepped his school and gym bag, donning his usual hoodie and sweats, before heading out for his usual run. After scanning his ID in at the guard gate and managing a brief hello, he trudged across the campus. It was quiet, as usual, but Bailey had an odd sense of unease. Like something was missing or wrong...

He made his way inside the fence to the track and field, heading directly for the bleachers. He found his spot in the back corner, hidden from most view points by the huge support post. He dropped his bags, sinking to ground with them. He leaned briefly against the metal column, dragging out his protein bar and water. He sighed as he took a bite, rubbing at his chest, moaning at the little twinge.

"What the hell are you doing under here?"

Bailey jerked so badly he banged his head on the post trying to scramble to his feet at the unexpected intrusion.

He stared into the dark, trying to make out who had caught him, who had invaded his peace. The hulking figure was decked out in baggy gym shorts and a tank top, his arms crossed. He was haloed from behind by the emergency track light.

"You hang out here a lot?" the voice asked again

Bailey sagged in relief as he recognized the voice.

Declan.

"You fuckin' scared me," he grumbled, scrounging around for where his protein bar had fallen. Fortunately, it was still in its wrapper. He tore another bite off. "What are you doing here?"

Declan stepped closer, and Bailey could see the huge grin on his face. "Waiting for you."

Bailey's head snapped up. "What? Why?"

"Thought we could run together."

"How did you know...?"

Declan shrugged. "That time I showed up early and you were here; I guessed it was usual for you. I don't usually run quite this early. My roommate thinks I've lost my mind getting up so early. But I didn't want to miss you. Then I saw you head under here."

Oh. Bailey didn't know what to say to that. He remembered having the momentary hope that morning of having someone to run with, but then Declan had blown him off. Now, he was here. Wanting to be with him. To spend time with him.

"So... why are you under the bleachers?" Declan asked curiously, glancing around. "You could just put your stuff over by the track; no one's going to take it."

Bailey shrugged. "It's peaceful here. No one bothers me. Sometimes I like to come here after practice, to do homework outside in the fresh air."

"Under the bleachers?" Declan didn't sound convinced.

"No one notices me here," Bailey said lamely.

Declan cocked his head thoughtfully, but didn't say anything about that. Instead, he tossed his head toward the track. "You ready to run?"

Bailey quickly downed his protein bar and took another swallow of water before nodding. "Sure."

"You look a little tired," Declan commented.

Bailey just shrugged. He wasn't going to tell Declan that the thought of his mom falling in love again had him wanting to cut a thousand little slits in his arm, or that the image of his dad being gunned down haunted him almost every fucking night, or that now Declan himself had begun invading his dreams, leaving him wrung out and confused.

"Just couldn't sleep."

—Declan—

After waiting for Bailey this morning for almost twenty minutes stretching in the middle of the field, he'd been surprised to see Bailey disappearing under the bleachers. The poor little guy had nearly jumped out of his skin when Declan had spoken up, obviously not having heard him approach.

And he'd seemed really tired. And he kept rubbing at his chest like it was bothering him, itchy or something. And he kept wincing, like he'd done yesterday in the gym when he'd rubbed at his hips. Declan had asked him about it, but Bailey only said he had sore muscles.

Declan pulled his Ipod from his pocket, clipping it to his shirt. "You like rock?"

"Huh?"

Declan scanned to his favorite running playlist, turning it on without plugging in the headsets so they could both hear the music. "It's not very loud, but we'd both be able to run to the same music this way."

Bailey's pale eyes stared up at him, a small smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Declan clapped him on the back, letting his hand feel the strong shoulder muscles a moment before jogging off. "Come on!"

Bailey paced him, falling into the easy pace Declan set. Their feet pounded the track in perfect synchronicity. Declan hadn't even realized that he'd shortened his own stride slightly to match Bailey's. It had come so natural, their arms pumping, their breathes... maybe even their heartbeats falling into harmony. Their shoulders would brush against each other occasionally, and they'd glance at each other. Declan would grin down at Bailey, and Bailey would return a shy smile before ducking his head and turning back to the track in front of them.

This time Declan nudged Bailey on purpose. "So, you do this every morning?"

"Pretty much."

"Why so early?" Declan asked between breaths. "Do you go home to change?"

Bailey shook his head, breathing through a few strides before responding. "My dad and I... we would run early... before dawn. Guess it's a habit... I like the quiet... before everything else really wakes up I guess."

Declan nodded, catching the hint of sadness in Bailey's voice. He briefly regretted asking as it obviously reminded Bailey of the loss of his father, but then Declan had no way of knowing what might do that. He couldn't be afraid to ask Bailey anything just because it might be a reminder of his dad. He would just have to trust that Bailey would let him know if he didn't want to talk about it. "Makes sense," he finally huffed. "It's cool you got to do so much with your dad. Mine's not really into doing stuff like that together. Sure, we'll watch a game or something, but nothing like what you and your dad did."

Bailey was quiet for several moments, and Declan glanced over to make sure he hadn't pushed too far. For a second, Declan thought Bailey might be angry, but then Bailey gray eyes looked up at him. They glistened but Bailey was smiling softly, nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah. It was nice," Bailey's voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you."

"I'd like to join you again, if you don't mind. I understand if you feel I'm intruding, since it was your time with—"

"I'd like that," Bailey interrupted abruptly, surprising Declan. When Bailey raced ahead a few feet, then turned to jog backwards a moment. "If you can keep up," he added, smirking, before taking off again. Declan saw the challenge for what it was: playful, camaraderie between friends. A game of chase.

"Oh hell yeah!" Declan took off running.

Bailey's light laughter flowed over him as they ran, seeping into his soul. God, how he loved that sound. He actually did have a hard time running Bailey down, then just as he was about to catch him, Bailey darted sideway into the inner field. It gave Bailey a few extra seconds as Declan realized his quarry wasn't in front of him anymore. He easily switched directions, watching Bailey zig-zagging and anticipating where he'd turn.

After several minutes, Declan took a sharp right to head of Bailey and dove for him, wrapping his arms around the narrow waist and rolling with him to the ground. Declan was careful to cushion Bailey's fall with his own body, so he wouldn't get hurt.

They were both laughing and panting hard as they flopped next to each other on the fake turf. Finally, Declan rolled to his side, ready to get up. "Come on, let's get showered and get some breakfast," he said as he patted Bailey on the chest.

The hiss of breath he got in return surprised him.

"Shit. I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" Declan asked horrified.

Bailey just sat up, rubbing at his chest. "No. No. I'm... I'm just sore from yesterday's mixed practice, that's all."

If Bailey hadn't refused to meet his eyes, Declan would have believed it was true. For some reason, his words rang false, and Declan didn't know what to think of that. Had Chris somehow gotten to Bailey again? Did Eric hurt him during the practice and Declan had missed it?

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Bailey asserted. "Getting a little banged up is part of the sport—both of them."

"Yeah, guess that's true," Declan agreed.

Bailey stopped, bending over to tie his shoe, and Declan focused on the wedge of skin that was exposed between his hoodie and sweatpants. He almost looked away, embarrassed at ogling the guy, but a discoloration next to his spine caught Declan's attention. It was the remnants of a bruise, light green, yellowish. Older. Healing.

Not from yesterday's practice.

Declan's breath caught in his throat.

Chris's knee.

Fuck. He hadn't realized he'd lifted his hand, as if to brush his fingers over the marred skin, until Bailey straightened abruptly, heading off the field. Bailey stopped and turned, frowning at Declan frozen where he was.

Bailey cocked his head, hands on his hips. "You comin'?"

Declan jolted forward. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

He followed Bailey under the bleachers so Bailey could grab his bags. Declan couldn't help scanning Bailey's lean form, wondering just how many other bruises or wounds were hidden under the layers.

Declan clenched his fists in renewed anger but forced himself to release them before Bailey could see them. He knew Bailey had some sort of history with bullies, not just Chris, and he didn't want Bailey thinking he was anything like that.