The Hat Trick (ON HOLD AS OF 2/17/16)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bailey

For the record I didn't intend for Dill to come off as so oblivious, dumb and much more colorful words that you all have come up with. It wasn't my intention for you guys to dislike him so much. But here's the thing, in his defense, since no one is willing to defend him, Dill was only trying to do what he thought was best for that horrible situation and that was keep Bailey as far away from that evil lady as possible. Let's all face it guys don't think things through like us girls do, but then again girls don't always think everything through either we think with our emotions and that's not always the best thing to do in moments like this one. 

There I've said my peace and I really hope that you guys go back to liking DIll and not wanting to bash his brains in because he did something stupid. 

Thanks again for keeping this story within the top 20 for over a couple weeks now that is sooooo flipping crazy!! And it's all thanks to you guys. :) 

Brooke

PS

Don't hate me.

Bailey

I woke up with my face smashed against an empty Jack Daniels bottle and an arm that wasn’t mine wrapped around my waist. That should worry me just a tad but I couldn’t wrap my whisky fogged brain around the fact that some stranger was in bed with me. I snuggled deeper into the comforter and the arm went with me, slight fingers flexing against my exposed midriff.

“J . . .” his named whispered past my guarded lips. I shivered causing the hand to tighten and pull me back against . . . nothing. I jerked fully awake my breath coming in short pants as I looked back behind me to find the bed empty, void of whatever presence my mind tried to conjure up.

I glanced down to see my own hand wrapped around my waist and everything inside me deflated. I sagged back down to the mattress pulling the thick comforter up around my chin I didn’t want to face the day just yet. I curled into the cool glass bottle that had been my best friend and worst enemy last night. Best, because for half the night I forgot what I was doing and worst, because I still remembered in the morning everything that happened . . . what—what he did.

Stop.

No more. No more tears. No more sobbing. No more thinking. Just . . . no more. Immune, that’s what you need to be right now.  Fucking immune to everything. That’s what Jack was supposed to do for you make you immune, well guess that’s another man to add to the ‘Will Let You Down Every Time’ list.

A shudder raced through me pulling out a soft whimper with it as it passed, I squeezed my eyes tighter hating the wetness that formed behind closed lashes. God dammit, don’t do it . . . don’t do it . . . don’t you fucking start.

“Bails?” I flinched upon hearing Harper’s soft concerning tone. I burrowed deeper into the comforter wanting it to suddenly become that blanket fort I built when I was a kid, where nobody could bother me. “Look, I know you’re awake, and thinking that by hiding under a blanket pretending to be passed out isn’t going to make me go away, just sayin’.”

Pulling down the comforter I found Harp sitting crossed-legged in the one chair that wasn’t covered in clothes, I half wondered how I hadn’t seen her when I first awoke. Oh that’s right, I was too preoccupied thinking that last night had been a bad dream and that I was waking up with J curled around me instead I found myself curled around a bottle of whisky—what was left at least.

Harper’s deep purple hair was pulled high on top of her head and fussed into a knot that was the size of a golf ball. She had to have come right from her early morning ballet class that would also explain the black tights, cutoff sweatpants and long-sleeved leotard she was rocking at the moment.