‘But at some point, you started to love it.’
‘Maybe I always did. I mean, it was Mom’s thing, it makes sense it was also kind of in my DNA. But at some point, that took over, yeah. I knew I could never, ever give it up. Or I thought I couldn’t anyway.’
‘It must have completely devastated you.’
‘Yes.’ She doesn’t sugarcoat it and I’m glad. ‘I never expected to find something else I loved, something else I was good at. But journalism was just like ballet. I know my mom hated it—she’d have preferred I pursued anything other than this.’
‘Why?’
‘She doesn’t want me to put my life on the line for a story.’
‘Ah.’ The tightening in my chest should serve as a warning that despite myself, I’m getting attached. Because, just like Bailey’s mother, I also hate the thought of her going into war zones to report. ‘But that’s not on the cards?’
She shakes her head a little. ‘Politics is what I want.’
‘And you have to cover that from DC?’
She lifts her shoulders. ‘Ideally. I mean, there are local jobs too, but I’ve always thought I’d end up there.’
I feel like a piece of glass is jagging across my skin, but I keep a relaxed composure and after a beat I say, ‘I’m sure you will then, Bailey James. In fact, I have no doubt. You can do anything you set your mind to.’
Chapter Nineteen
Beau
‘Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,’ Austin drawls as I step into the kitchen, eyes falling first to the coffee machine, then my brother. Bailey is still on my skin, in my mind—the sweet taste of her kisses, the feel of her body, and the fact I already ache to break the promise I made her, about not staying over. The thought of her in Goodnight, in a room above the bar, rather than here with me—or me being there with her—sits like a rock in my gut.
Despite his words, Austin is grinning as he walks across the space toward me, then wraps me in a huge bear hug and pats my back hard. ‘We were expecting you earlier.’
‘I got held up.’
‘You eaten?’
Bailey had ordered up some wings and fries, which we’d shared on her bed while watching a true-crime documentary. She’s unexpectedly into that kind of thing, I discovered, as she showedoff a near-encyclopedic knowledge of various shows. I teased her about having missed her calling as a crime journalist and she’d shrugged her shoulders, made some comment about life being long and not needing to be locked into one thing or another necessarily.
It’s at odds with the certainty she’d shown about political reporting, adding to my feeling that at times Bailey James is more of an enigma than anything else.
‘Earth to Beau.’ Austin snaps his fingers in my face. ‘Is that a no?’
‘I’ve eaten.’ I blink my focus back to my brother. ‘Where’s everyone else?’
Mackenzie and Cassidy stroll into the kitchen at that exact moment, locked in conversation. When they see me, they both hurry forward, hugging me at the same time. Mackenzie even looks a bit emotional, which is unusual for the girl who generally stonewalls her every feeling.
Cassidy moves past me to the wine rack and removes a bottle. Not one of the special, expensive bottles Beth gave Austin. Those are cellared away, but separate to those, Austin’s been building a pretty good stash of his own.
‘Sit,’ Cassidy insists, pointing to the big, old dining table that’s been a part of our family since as far back as anyone can remember. ‘Tell us everything.’
‘Everything?’ I repeat, as she pours out four glasses of wine, and Mackenzie grabs a block of chocolate from the kitchen, sliding it my way.
‘Trust me,’ Mackenzie says, glancing at Austin with a grin. ‘It pairs beautifully with the merlot.’
I raise a brow. ‘Is this brother of mine turning you into a wine snob or something?’
‘Something,’ Mackenzie says on a giggle.
‘Or is it all those big, impressive record label execs who are constantly trying to win you over?’ I tease, and see Mackenzie’s smile slip. I move toward her, instantly concerned. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing,’ she assures me, but too quickly. ‘We’re talking about you.’
