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    Wayne Gray
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A Silent Song - 3. A Treasure Lost

Warning: Brief suicidal ideation in this chapter.

Bailey stared down at his mug. At first his eyes were unseeing, his viewpoint merely resting on the lip of the ceramic container. He sat by Greg, who sipped his coffee and seemed content to sit quietly. Greg had started a fire a few minutes earlier, and Bailey let his eyes slide closed as the warmth began to sink into his bones.

The river had been very cold. Bailey had only been in it for a couple of minutes, but that was plenty long enough for him.

"Do you know sign language?" Bailey looked over at Greg when he asked the question.

Bailey nodded. He then pointed at Greg, his eyebrows raised. Do you?

Greg shook his head. "No." He smiled at Bailey. "Though, you make it pretty easy to understand you."

Making a small noise when he blew air out of his nose, Bailey held up his fingers, barely apart and squinted his eyes. Little things.

Greg nodded. "Yeah. I guess it'd be tougher with more complex subjects."

Bailey nodded along with him. This guy's trying. That's nice. It was good to communicate with someone, even if the communication was rudimentary.

"So, your scar." Greg's expression was kind as he spoke. "That's why you can't speak. A surgery? Accident?"

Bailey nodded once. Paused, then nodded again. Yes. To both.

"Accident and a surgery?" Greg sipped his coffee as he watched Bailey. He obviously began to realize a lot of Bailey's communication centered on his expressions and subtle differences in positioning. So he was paying careful attention.

Nodding, Bailey touched his nose. Got it. On the nose.

Greg's eyes shifted. Bailey could tell he was trying to figure a way to ask his next question in a way that Bailey could answer. He could anticipate what Greg wanted to know. Bailey smiled and waved a hand. Then he held up a finger. Okay. Watch.

Using his finger, Bailey began to draw in the air. Greg watched as Bailey spelled with his fingertip.

"N. A. V. Y." Greg blinked. "Navy? You were in the navy."

Bailey grinned and nodded. He knew he could use a phone to type out messages to Greg. But that lost something. It simply wasn't the same as "talking" to another human being. So Bailey vastly preferred to communicate directly—using his body to transmit information, and receiving it back either through sign or verbally. To Bailey, the extra effort was worth it.

He then made a wavy motion with his hand and arm.

Bailey watched as Greg went from a frown to a happy realization. "Ah, you were aboard a ship!" Greg grew thoughtful. "Did your accident happen on the ship?"

Nodding again, Bailey sighed. That was the day his whole life had changed. He went from an upward trajectory in both his naval career and in his personal life, to an entirely different path. He had yet to really feel as if things had leveled off. The last two years had been a struggle of adjustment and acceptance of his new way of life, and he still wasn't quite there yet.

Greg put a companionable hand on Bailey's shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're okay. And we're glad you're here, Bailey." Greg smiled. "It's your business to reveal what you want to who you like. So Clay and I will keep this to ourselves." He patted Bailey's back. "That work for you?"

Bailey looked at Greg. Smiling affably, he nodded.

"All right." Greg stood up. "Okay. I'm gonna give the guys a call. Find out how Rayne is doing. I'll talk to you later, Bailey. Come find me if you need anything." Their eyes met. "Okay? I'm serious. Let me know if you need something from us."

Bailey sat back. He means it. He was happy to know that Greg was ready to back up what he said. Bailey nodded at Greg.

Walking away, Greg took his cell phone out of his pocket as he moved toward the Airstream. Bailey watched him go, a small smile on his lips. Then he noticed movement.

He turned his head and he saw Harlan walking across the campground. It looked as if he was coming from the bathrooms. Bailey frowned. Weird. I didn't see him go in. The way Bailey faced, it would be next to impossible for someone to go to the building without him noticing.

Bailey tracked Harlan as the man stalked across the grounds. Just before Harlan was about to turn the corner to his cottage, he looked over at Bailey.

For a second their eyes met. In order to help him function after the accident, Bailey had spent the last two years of his life studying the combination of complex hand movements and the expressions that go along with communicating with American Sign Language, or ASL. A single glimpse of a face told Bailey a story few others could read. He was now an expert, and Harlan's face told him much.

The man disappeared inside his cabin and Bailey frowned. Sadness and anger. He looked thoughtfully at the cabin. I wonder what's wrong?


Harlan's hands flexed open and closed as he stood in the middle of his cabin. "Fucking Greg. Greedy bastard. You've already got Clay, you fucker." Harlan fumed. He had seen how Greg put his hand on Bailey, and how close they had been sitting.

Struggling to find his center—his calm—Harlan partially succeeded. He took a deep breath and then exhaled. Then he forced his normally logical mind to push through his gut response. You don't know what is going on. You're leaping. And even if Clay and Greg are making a sandwich out of Bailey, it doesn't matter. He's not yours. He won't be yours. He's out of your league.

Harlan flinched. You have Orlando. You're already fucking a great-looking dude. Why does Bailey matter?

"I'm just crushing on the guy. I need to let it go." He nodded to himself.

A knock at Harlan's door startled him. He chuckled at his response, then opened it.

Avery, the skinny, hyperactive, blonde teenager stood outside. He was one of the Raven Project kids, and by now Harlan knew his name and that he was a ball of boundless energy. The boy didn't waste any time. "Hey, Harvey! Do you know where Rayne is?" He waved a hand. "Greg told me they'd be back soon, but I don't know where they are now."

Harlan gave his best glare, and he ignored Avery getting his name wrong. "I have no idea."

Avery frowned at him. He was quiet for a beat, as the two stared at one another. Then Avery wrinkled his nose. "You look mad."

Harlan cocked his head at the odd boy. He worked hard to cultivate a fearsome persona, one that most people would simply prefer to avoid. But this kid, he seemed immune to it. Harlan slowly nodded. "I guess I am."

"Why?" Avery shrugged. He seemed utterly unimpressed with Harlan's posture, expression and tone of voice. The boy simply wasn't intimidated by him.

Ah, the gift of ignorance, Harlan thought as he narrowed his eyes at Avery. "I don't want to talk about it."

Avery snorted. "Fine. But that's dumb. It just means you want to be mad." He turned to go, and Harlan gaped a little at him. "I'm gonna go find Elias. Maybe he knows what's going on."

Then he was gone, down the loop, knocking on the "Clay" cabin door, where the other boy, Elias, did his ceramic projects. Harlan stuck his head outside and he stared down the asphalt at the little cabin Avery had disappeared into.

He blinked. It wasn't often Harlan was called "dumb". Pulling back inside his cabin, he closed the door. He stood there, one hand on the wood, his head lowered as he thought.

It is dumb. It's not like you to just wallow. Harlan's normal, logical processes started to click back on. The problem is a lack of information. And the resolution is acquisition of information. He stood a little longer, letting a plan percolate in his mind. You have resources. Use them.

A moment later, Harlan smiled.


Rayne had definitely seen better days. After they arrived at the hospital, Jeremy called Huck, Rayne's father. He got ahold of him after Rayne had already been cleared of any serious head injury.

Rayne listened to Jeremy's side of the conversation. "Mister Yoman, yes, your son is fine. Yes, we're relieved too. But he's scared. It'd be best if you could be here." Jeremy set his jaw and glanced over at Rayne. The bearded administrator of the Raven Project stood up and walked away from Rayne's hospital bed, but the boy could still hear him, and Jeremy's tone now had a bite to it. "Rayne needs you here."

Turning his head away, Rayne closed his eyes. He was with Jeremy at the campground all week. Rayne knew that his father looked forward to the time he would be gone. And that Jeremy's phone call was an annoyance to the man.

Mason stood beside the bed and reached down, putting a gentle hand on Rayne's back. Jeremy continued to talk on the phone. He sounded upset, but he was too far away, and Rayne couldn't hear what he said now.

It didn't matter. He knew. His father wasn't coming for him. Ever since Rayne had told him he was gay, Huck had ignored him. He used The Raven Project as a way to dump Rayne off for a week, so that he could pretend he wasn't a single father with a gay son.

Rayne refused to cry. He just wouldn't. He shrugged off Mason's hand. "I'm fine." He curled up a little, an unconscious movement, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

A few minutes later, Jeremy returned. He patted Rayne's shoulder. "Hey." Rayne looked up at him, and Jeremy smiled, though it was forced. "Your dad and I talked, and now that he knows you’re ok, he gave me permission to let you continue your stay at the campground." Rayne knew that Jeremy tried to frame it in a positive way, but he simply wasn't able to accept that.

Rayne sat up, clenching his jaw. "He doesn't want me home." His head hurt a little, but the bandaged injury on his forehead was bearable.

Clay flinched and looked at Jeremy. Rayne saw that the thought of a father discarding his son angered and upset him.

Mason’s so lucky. Rayne envied the lanky young man. Clay was Mason’s dad, and even when they didn't see eye to eye, it was obvious that there was a lot of love and respect between the two.

Jeremy started to say something, thought better of it, then sighed. He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. "I know it probably doesn't help much, but we really like having you around, Rayne." Jeremy's blue eyes were earnest as he looked at the boy.

Biting his lip, Rayne nodded. He cleared his throat and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm ready to go. Can we go?"

"We can go, son." Clay's warm hand felt nice on Rayne's back as the big man patted him. "Come on."

As they walked out to the van, the black-haired youth felt hopeless. He got in, all the way in the back seat of the van. He sat alone and looked out of the window. There was murmured conversation between Jeremy and Clay from the front seats, and the van began to move.

Rayne closed his eyes. I wish I were dead. He should have let me drown.

Rayne's eyes opened, but he let them stare, unfocused, out of the window as they drove. I should have just drowned.


The van returned to camp. By now it was almost noon, and Greg manned the kitchen. He had gotten a text from Mason, and he knew they were on the way back. Greg prepared Rayne's favorite sandwich—grilled cheese. He heated some tomato soup in a pot on the gas burner of his grill too.

Word had gotten out that Rayne was at the hospital. Greg had given those who asked only the barest of information. "Rayne fell in the river, got banged up, and needed some assessment."

Bailey had already made it clear through a text to Greg that he didn't need or want attention or credit for pulling the boy out of the water. Greg was doing his best to honor that. Though they were both fairly sure once Rayne returned he would tell the campers what had happened.

The van stopped near the Airstream. Bailey watched as Rayne got out. Jeremy put a hand on his back, gently leading Rayne to the boy's cabin. Avery buzzed around them both, firing questions at the pair.

"Avery!" Clay's voice had deepened to "dad-mode". "Leave the guy alone a minute, okay?"

Avery looked injured by Clay's tone. Then he made a face and stalked off.

God, that kid looked miserable. Bailey looked at the backside of the cabin where Rayne and Jeremy had gone. Then he watched Clay and Mason speak with one another nearby on the paved loop. Finally, the two guys headed toward the kitchen.

Greg looked hopefully at Clay. "Well? How's he doing?"

Frowning, Clay shook his head. "He's fine, physically." He swallowed and gave another shake of his head. "His father is a piece of work. Wouldn't even come to pick him up."

Greg stared at Clay. "Wow. I knew he would never win a 'Dad of the Year' award, but ..." He blinked and grimaced. "Jeez. Poor kid."

The Raven Project accumulated kids from near-broken homes. Almost all of the kids in the group identified as gay, lesbian, trans, or bisexual. And that alone was a risk factor for a difficult homelife. Rayne's example held true to this.

Mason gazed across the campground at the cabin. "I think Jeremy is going to see if Rayne can get in to see a counselor at his clinic." He rubbed his arms. "He just seems so, so tight. Like he's about to snap, or break any second."

Bailey watched and listened. Though the issue was serious, and the stakes high, he couldn't help but feel a warmth around the men. They care. If Rayne lets them help him, then he'll be okay.

Greg made a noise as the grilled cheese on the stove nearly burned. "Shit." He flipped it one more time. "Okay, this is ready." He put the gooey sandwich on a plate, and then Greg filled a big mug with tomato soup.

Mason reached for the items. "Hey, I'll take them. Maybe he'll talk to me. I know he needs to talk to someone."

"Actually ..." Jeremy walked up to the kitchen. He had just left the cabin with Rayne. His eyes met Bailey's. "Actually, he wants to talk to you."

Bailey motioned at his own chest. Jeremy nodded. Bailey looked and felt flabbergasted. Well, shit.

Greg stepped in. He glanced at Bailey who nodded his permission, then at Jeremy. "Ah, that might be a problem. Bailey here can't speak."

As Greg explained for him, Bailey's mind began to turn. If he wants to talk to me, then so be it. I can do it. He stood up, motioning at Greg with his fingers and his head. The man stopped mid-sentence, still holding the plate with the grilled cheese and the mug of soup.

Greg looked at him. "Uh, you're gonna go? Really?"

When Bailey responded with a nod, Greg pursed his lips and looked doubtful, but he handed the items over to Bailey. "Okay. If you need help or anything, just come and get us. All right?"

Nodding, Bailey turned toward the cabin. He covered the ground quickly, and then knocked awkwardly on the door with his elbow.

After a moment, Rayne opened the door. The boy looked at Bailey, then his eyes dropped to the food. He almost smiled when he saw the grilled cheese and the soup. Swinging the door open wide, Rayne let Bailey step in before closing the door again.

Rayne walked over and sat on the futon. Bailey stood near the entryway, then took a few steps and set the food in front of Rayne on the coffee table. Rayne stared at the plate. Bailey moved to sit beside the boy and watched his face in profile.

The young man took a deep breath. "Why did you save me?" He continued to look forward and his mouth worked. Emotion roiled under the surface of the teen's barely intact veneer.

Reaching into his pocket, Bailey pulled out his phone. Luckily, he kept it in a waterproof case, and even after a dip in the Smith River, it still worked fine. He started tapping away at a message. Curious, Rayne frowned and looked over at Bailey's hands.

Finished, Bailey held his phone so Rayne could see it. You needed help. Not going to let you drown.

Rayne read the message, then looked at Bailey's eyes. "Why did you just type that?"

He thought maybe Rayne had heard Clay ask about his inability to speak down at the river, but the boy was probably too shocked to process it at the time. Bailey swallowed and pulled the neck of his shirt down. Rayne saw the scar and quickly put it together. "Your neck is hurt. You can't talk?"

The mute man made a sad expression and shook his head.

Rayne looked intrigued by this information. Then the basic empathy most people have for one another took hold, and he made a face. "That has to be hard."

Bailey smiled and nodded.

Rayne bit his lip, a little of his own problems forgotten. "Will, will it ever get better? Will you ever talk again?"

Feeling his emotions rear up, Bailey blinked. Fuck, you should be past this. However, "never" is a long time. Though he liked to fantasize that one day there'd be a miracle surgery that could repair his destroyed vocal cords, he knew better. He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace, and he shook his head.

Rayne's eyes locked with Bailey's. He drew in a shaky breath, and then the teenager welled up. "I'm sorry." Tears streaked down his face, and Bailey knew most of the young man's emotion was due to his own circumstances. Connecting with him had brought it to the surface. Rayne opened his mouth to audibly breathe as tears ran down his face.

Bailey put an arm around Rayne's shoulders, and the boy sobbed. He seemed to crumble in on himself and leaned into Bailey.

Laying back with Rayne against his chest, Bailey raised his face up to look at the ceiling. He breathed through the moment along with Rayne as the boy cried.

Bailey wished now, more than at any other point since his accident, that he could speak. He wanted to tell him that he was going to be okay. He wanted Rayne to know, so badly, that the men at the campground wanted nothing but good and wonderful things for him.

But all he could do was hold on.


It was early evening before Harlan heard back from his contact. He had sent Bailey’s license plate in to a connection he maintained with the DMV, and the man had finally gotten back to him. As soon as he got the notification, he made his way to his cabin and closed the door. There, he eagerly unlocked his phone.

"Bailey Daniel Holbrook." Harlan looked at the email he'd received on the device. He immediately began a search for Bailey's full name.

"Hrm." A number of results popped up. There appeared to be a Facebook page for Bailey, and Harlan grinned. He selected that entry.

There was only one post he could see with the particular permissions Bailey had used when he'd made it. Harlan began to read the entry.


To everyone who has ever encouraged me along this journey. I wanted to let you know that your support, love, and patience have all been amazing. And performing for you has been a dream come true. But this dream, like all others, had to end.

It's ending earlier than I would have liked. I felt as if I had just started down this road, when an unexpected turn came. Yet here I am.

I'm leaving the scene, and, for me, there's no coming back. But I'll forever remember and cherish you all.

Thank you. For everything.


Harlan frowned. There were no comments. "Huh. He must have turned off comments. Weird."

Going back to his search, Harlan scrolled down. "Hrmm." He read the text of another link. Bailey Holbrook performs, tonight at Rich's! It was an old advertisement for a bar in San Diego. He tapped the link.

A moment later a site loaded. There were numerous videos on the page, archived on the bar's website. One showed Bailey in freeze-frame. He stood on a short stage, grinning out at a small crowd of people.

Harlan wet his lips. "He looks like a superstar up there." He hit the video, and it began to play.

On the small screen of the phone, Bailey motioned for the crowd to quiet. They finally did. "Okay, here's one I'm still working on." He looked over his shoulder at a man with a guitar. "I'm gonna do it acapella this time, Jonathan." The bearded fellow nodded and smiled as Bailey turned back to the microphone.

Harlan watched as the handsome, self-assured Bailey took a breath. He began to sing.


I've heard love is like wound, that it aches and it consumes,

So my question here it seems, centers on that simple theme,

Have you ever bled the blood?


So I'll ask you here and now, answer true, do you vow?

A lot depends on how this goes, And now my need begins to grow,

Have you ever bled the blood?


I ask because I need to know, if how you feel is just for show.

I just don't think that I can take, Jumping into something fake,

Have you ever bled the blood?


Have you ever burned so bright, a supernova in the night?

Have you ever felt the fire, has your heart ever conspired?

Have you ever bled the blood?


It feels so nice to hold your hand, you are the reason why I stand,

And show the world just how I feel, what we have to me is real.

But have you ever bled the blood?


They say that words do not contain, and yet I long to hear my name,

Fall like sweetness from your lips, From your love I need to sip.

Will you ever bleed the blood?


So have you ever bled the blood? Is your need for me a flood?

Do you hold back any part, can I really have your heart?

Have you ever bled the blood?


Author's Note: If you want to hear me singing the song, click the link. Try to imagine Randy Travis' voice. Maybe it'll help!

Bled the Blood 2.m4a


The last note faded from Bailey's lips, and the crowd went wild. With a laugh, Bailey bowed graciously as they happily shouted encouragement and accolades at him. Then the video ended.

Harlan blinked. "What the fuck?" He stared at the phone, and played the video again. After it finished the second time, the man shook his head. "Why isn't he famous?" Bailey's voice reminded him of a young Randy Travis.

"Why is this guy here?" Thanks to his connections and research, Harlan quickly discovered Bailey was a certified engineer, and that he used to be a US Naval Officer. He also saw that he had been discharged a couple of years ago.

Military records are hard to acquire. Harlan would have to have a very good reason to flex that particular muscle. Digging for information to sate his curiosity wasn't a good reason, so he had no idea why Bailey was discharged.

"Hell, he probably got out to do music." Harlan nodded to himself.

He looked at the time. "Huh. It's after five." Usually, by now Orlando was at his door, or vice versa. But tonight, Harlan was interested in something other than the purely physical act of sex.

He opened his door and turned toward the large firepit next to the kitchen. It had cooled off, and there were already people moving around in the slowly darkening evening near the kitchen.

Bailey sat by Jeremy and Mason, nodding at something Mason said. The perfect ice-breaker in mind, Harlan set his jaw and started toward the firepit.


Bailey smiled along with Mason and Jeremy. The boy, Rayne, was feeling a little better, but now he wanted to quietly read, alone in his cabin. Bailey had left him there. Jeremy had gone to check on the young man, and said that Rayne had even smiled a couple of times.

"We'll just have to keep an eye on him," Mason said.

Bailey nodded. Clay was building a fire, and Greg manned the gas stove in the kitchen. They were currently the only ones at the firepit. Though that'd change as the fire grew.

This is nice. Bailey smiled as he watched Clay, and as Mason offered unhelpful advice on the process of feeding the fire. Bailey had to go to work the next day, but it was still early in the evening. He looked forward to spending a few companionable hours with the guys. Still unable to readily communicate with them, that didn't matter so much right at that moment.

Harlan walked up and took a seat on the bench opposite. Bailey felt positive, so he smiled and gave the man a nod.

His expression twitching into a smile, Harlan's green eyes were intense as he looked at Bailey. "Hey, uh, Bailey, right?"

Bailey nodded.

Harlan gave him a little knowing smile. "For a guy who can really sing, you don't talk much." He waved a hand at Jeremy. "You should do a duet with that one sometime. I bet you guys would sound great."

Every single person at the fire froze, staring appalled at Harlan.

Bailey felt like he'd been slugged. How? How'd he …? The color drained from Bailey's face, and he stood up. He turned and walked through the campground, opened his cabin, and entered.


"Uh, what?" Harlan was confused, and the stares of everyone around the fire suddenly felt damning. "What'd I say?"

"Harlan, Bailey can't talk." Clay shook his head. "So I have no idea what you're talking about, but you really twisted a knife in the guy."

Harlan frowned. "What? That's ridiculous." He pulled out his phone. "I found him, online, performing at a club. Not only can he sing, but he should be fucking famous."

"He had an accident. A couple of years ago." Jeremy sighed. "If you really found him singing well, and that was taken from him ..." Jeremy made a pained face. "Man, that'd kill me—to never sing again."

Harlan processed that information and swallowed noisily. "Shit." He held the phone in his hand, and suddenly the Facebook post by Bailey he'd found made sense. "Shit."

"You didn't know," Greg admitted from the kitchen. "But, still." He made a face. "This was the first night he really decided to hang out."

Harlan groaned inwardly. He had nothing he could say, so he simply walked off. He got back to his cabin, and he put his hand over his mouth.

You fucking idiot.

Oh, Harlan. You knew just enough to be dangerous.
Let me know what you all think of this one if you get a moment, please. Thanks for reading, taking the time to comment, and rating the chapters and the story itself.
Copyright © 2020 Wayne Gray; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

My stomach hurt when Harlan suggested that Bailey sing. I was just as appalled as everyone else around the fire. I know Bailey doesn’t want company but I hope someone goes to check on him. Orson? Does he still live there? I would think not, with the scarcity of cabins. Plus, he’s got that hot cop boyfriend ...

Edited by Geemeedee
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2 hours ago, Geemeedee said:

My stomach hurt when Harlan suggested that Bailey sing. I was just as appalled as everyone else around the fire. I know Bailey doesn’t want company but I hope someone goes to check on him. Orson? Does he still live there? I would think not, with the scarcity of cabins. Plus, he’s got that hot cop boyfriend ...

Yeah, it's rough watching someone screw up that bad.

Orson is still around. He still rents his little renovated cabin. Joseph drops by, stays multiple days at a time, and is pretty much living there with him. While Elias is camped on the futon. It's a bit of a tight squeeze, or it's getting to be. And we'll see more of how that is handled later. 🙂

You can bet someone tried to go talk to Bailey, to at least check on him. You can also bet that he didn't really want company.

Thanks for the comment!

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11 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

Harlan just hit a mine, and it blew up whatever overtures he intended. He forgot to listen. But as a reader, I appreciate all the opportunities to glean more insight into Bailey, and into Harlan and Rayne, too. Thanks for that, and for the awesome song, too. I can think of someone besides Bailey who should be famous...

Harlan screwed up huge. He threw the loss of a gift into Bailey’s face, all without knowing he was doing it.

You’re right - Harlan’s foible is the reader’s gain. We learned a few things about Bailey, thanks to Harlan’s digging.

Thanks for the comment concerning the chapter.

And the song. 😉

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13 hours ago, Daddydavek said:

Well Harlan f....ed up big time.  I expect he will try to fix it in his own way.

He truly did!

Harlan is used to things going his way, but he didn't do all his homework this time. He was too distracted and eager to get to know Bailey, and in the process of trying really messed things up.

Thanks for the comment. 🙂

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