“Uh-huh.” Bailey pulled one hand free of Tom’s and wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Jesus.” Tom couldn’t hold back the hysterical laugh as he tried to bring his heart rate under control. “It’s a flat tyre. Just a flat tyre.”
“That’s what I said. A flat tyre.”
“That’s easy fixed.”
“Easy? It’s not fucking easy.Nothing’seasy.” Bailey’s voice rose with every word until he was yelling. He scrambled to his feet and kicked the offending tyre. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He gave one more almighty kick before his shoulders drooped and he turned to Tom. “It’s all so fucked up,” he said in a small voice.
“What’s all fucked?”
“Everything,” Bailey said, utter devastation written on his face.
Tom pulled him into his arms, pleased when Bailey didn’t pull away, instead melting into his hold. “It’ll be all right,” Tom mumbled against Bailey’s ear. God, I hope it will be.
Bailey sniffed, then seemed to pull himself together. He straightened and stepped back. “Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Tom said, “but I think we need to talk.”
Bailey nodded. “I know. I’ve wanting to talk to you for a while. Maybe we can talk later?”
From Bailey’s reaction to a simple flat tyre, there was something deeply troubling him, and there was no way Tom was going to let it go this time. He hadn’t followed his gut in the past when something told him there was something up with Bailey, but this time he listened to that inner voice.
“Want to come inside? I’ll send the guys and Cassie home, then you and I can head upstairs. I want to know what’s troubling you, Bails. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can sort it out.”
“That’s the thing, I always seem to be needing your help.”
Tom shrugged. “I’m not following.”
Bailey fidgeted with his jacket, not meeting Tom’s gaze. “It’s just—”
“Hey, guys. Need a hand?”
They both turned at John’s call.
“Sorry,” Tom whispered, biting back his annoyance at the disruption. “I told him about the boxes. He offered to help carry them out back to the storeroom.”
Bailey took a deep breath and gave a small smile. “No worries.”
“Hey, Bailey. How you doing, mate?” John asked as he approached.
“It’s good to see you,” Bailey said. “Thanks for giving me a hand with the boxes.”
“What are friends for?” John shook Bailey’s hand, a big grin on his face which, to Tom, looked like Bailey was doing his best to try and match.
It didn’t take long for Bailey to reopen the van and for them to move the open boxes from the front—the boxes with the current books the kids had been going through. Once they could access the back, Bailey climbed in and started passing out the large cardboard boxes. Tom took one and headed to the cafe, moving through the front where Cassie and Phil had their heads together over a notebook.
“Don’t get up, guys, we’ve got it,” Tom said, voice dripping with sarcasm, laughing when Phil gave him the finger.Yep, exactly as expected. “Let’s leave the boxes here,” Tom said, indicating the space against the newly exposed brick wall. “I need to rearrange the storeroom a bit to make room.”
Tom and John deposited the boxes and headed outside for another load. Ten minutes later they’d brought most of it inside, Tom surprised at how light some of the boxes were, especially given how heavy boxes of books usually were. Bailey was obviously spreading the load. Bailey locked up the van after they’d taken the last of the boxes and followed them into the cafe.
“What the hell is in this box?” Tom asked as he put it on top of the pile. “It’s rattling. I hope I didn’t break anything.” He opened the flaps.
“Stop!”
“Huh?” Tom looked up in confusion, but he let go of the box and stepped back.
“Sorry,” Bailey said.
