Song:
"Patience" - Guns and Roses (but I kinda like the Chris Cornell cover for this chapter) 🤎

The market was busy, swarming with people on their way home from work searching for last-minute dinner items. We squeezed down aisles teeming with carts, careful not to bump into people as I snatched everything Baker recited off the list as he drove the cart behind. I'd never realized how much I missed the mundane tasks my mother would bestow upon us. Not until this very moment.

We grabbed everything on the list and then some for sugar cookies I swore I could bake.

Baker didn't seem so sure, not after the jalapeño incident, and it showed in the arch of his skeptical brow.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing every colour of icing sugar the store housed before dumping them into the cart.

We paid, engaging in small talk with cashier Glenda who casually mentioned how nice it was to see us together again.

I said nothing, and neither did Baker, who took his bank card from his wallet.

She took it, rambling on about the winter fair and how excited her grandchildren were about the Santa race.

I smiled and thanked her, escaping the store before someone else stopped us.

I sat in the front seat of the truck, smirking at Baker. "You promised me food."

He smiled at the road, at the festive streetlights flanking both sides of the sidewalk and the red light we were currently stopped at. "We'll drop this off, and then we'll grab something."

"Good," I grinned as we crawled our way to a start.

I felt his smile and might have continued our conversation on how starved I was had he not put his blinker on and pulled into the last place I expected.

The trailer court looked the same every Christmas. The same decorated windows. The same trees adorned with matching lights the residents took great pride in, but I hadn't seen it in quite some time and for good reason.

My brows crinkled deeply as the truck jostled me from uneven asphalt and potholes needing fill.

We drove through rows of homes where drapes were left open, giving us a glimpse of decorated trees, TVs and smiling families before pulling into Baker's old driveway. "Why are we here?" I asked.

I couldn't imagine what prompted him to return, not after what his father did to him.

Baker left the engine running as he undid his seatbelt. "Dropping off the groceries," he answered, replying as if it were obvious.

"Here?"

It wasn't obvious to me. We never spoke of Neil Baker—ever. His name was a bitter curse on our tongues, one that left a horrendous aftertaste of pain-filled memories.

Baker stilled at my tone, running his gaze over me. "You don't have to come in."

I didn't want to. Not since the night I'd found him bruised and bleeding on the living room floor. When I sobbed quietly in hopes, I wouldn't wake the drunk man responsible when I called my dad for help.

My palms shook as I gazed up at the house. Not in fear, but pure, undiluted rage.

I'd always wondered what I'd say to Neil Baker if he ever crossed my path. I waited for him at Snocross events he attended with Baker and at the bar he once frequented nearly every night when his wife worked there.

He never showed, and he was lucky. I'd never hit anyone in all my life, but I'd gladly cut my fists on Neil's teeth if it granted me a little satisfaction, which I truly believed it could.

Baker waited for my answer. I couldn't very well let him go in alone.

What if he was drinking? What if he'd gotten to the point where he blacked out, and I'd have to call the police?

I wasn't worried about Baker. I'd witnessed the damage he could inflict first hand—never at me, or my brothers, save for Nate if he provoked him, but even then, for whatever reason, Baker seemed to snap out of it and flee. No, I was worried about Neil and what might happen if Baker lost his temper. 

I released a sharp exhale through my nose and cut Baker a side glare as I undid my seatbelt and climbed out of the truck.

This was by far the stupidest thing I'd ever done, I thought as I trekked through snow, hoping my black ankle boots wouldn't catch a patch of ice.

I felt Baker smile at my balancing act as I came around the front of the truck, waiting for him to go first. My mind raced with endless reasons why I shouldn't be here, but I could be a potential witness should Baker need one and thank God for Janelle, who could spit legal jargon as efficiently as Eminem could with raps.

I stood a few stairs below Baker patiently as he fumbled for the knob—the wind caressing the black tights covering my legs and up the brown thigh-length skirt I wore. Baker didn't specify where we were going, so I brought an extra set of clothes I left in the backseat of the idling truck.

We went inside—not bothering to knock. Baker first, then me.

The smells of this place rushed past Baker's coat and smacked me straight in the face. As if the home had heard every ill-favoured thought my mind had spoken in the driveway.

My eyes watered. I blamed it on the dry heat, but I'd be lying if I said the smells of her didn't phase me.

"Nick?"

Neil's voice muffled from somewhere down the trailer, and my heart stopped, my head snapping to Baker standing like a guard at my back.

To my surprise, he sighed the way an aggravated teen would as he removed his boots. "Who else would it be?"

He'd only held three bags, but I offered to take one anyway. My hands needed the distraction. Otherwise, I might have wrung my fingers to dislocation.

"I got it," he smiled, and his voice was more attuned to someone trying to soothe a frightened child.

I must've been wearing my uncertainty on my face, or maybe it was fear. I'd never witnessed the monster that climbed out of sweet Neil Baker after one too many drinks, but I'd seen the aftermath, and it stared back at me in the almost unnoticeable milky white scar on Baker's top lip.

Baker's dad appeared at the hall entrance, and I froze at the sight. "You didn't tell me you were bringing Hadley."

His voice was velvet, as nice as it had always been when he addressed me. But it had been so long since I'd heard it, and it almost sounded fake.

I held my ground—not daring to move until I knew for certain Baker was safe. A ridiculous thought considering Baker was almost twice my size.

Neil smiled softly as if me being here with Baker was a pleasant surprise. He wore glasses I'd never seen before on the bridge of his nose, and his silver dusted hair had been combed along the top, the sides trimmed like he'd just had it cut. He wasn't as thin as he used to be. Now he carried enough bulk to fill the plaid shirt he wore, and while he still retained his good looks, the years of drinking hadn't been kind.

I felt Baker's hand press the small of my back, indicating he wanted to slide by. "Are you gonna give me a hand?" he asked, not addressing me but his father.

The older gentleman shook his head with smile as if he expected nothing less. "You're late, smartass."

Puzzlement struck at their easy nature.

"Are you coming in, Hadley?"

I blinked at Neil's question. It wasn't forceful but playful, and it had my teeth grinding together.

I stooped, undoing my boots as Baker and his father disappeared around the corner. 

We shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. And yet here I was, following Baker in hopes he wouldn't land himself in trouble again.

I followed the short hall to the open kitchen with vaulted ceilings.

It was as lovely as I remembered it when Baker's mother still resided here, and she took great care of their home.

I found them at a counter, dividing the kitchen and the living room as they took the food from the plastic bags adjacent to the stove and small corner pantry with a frosted glass door. "Are you thirsty, Hadley?" Neil asked as I pulled a chair from the table near the glass French doors opposite them and sat down.

Yes, but I didn't feel comfortable staying for any longer than I needed. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Are you sure?" he asked, stepping backward on his way to the fridge. "I have everything. Water, pop, I can make you tea if you want."

He opened the door, and I nosily scanned what I could see.

No beer. No wine or hard alcohol of any kind.

Neil waited, a kind, hopeful smile on his lips, and it was then I realized how different things were here.

The house didn't smell like cigarettes and stale beer like it once had. There were no empty's littered across the floor. Everything was clean and organized. Even the dents in the walls had been fixed, and burnt lights in the fixtures...

I blinked. They were new, and so was the floor beneath my feet, the furniture, the flatscreen mounted on the wall above the fireplace mantel that held photos of Baker and him in new frames.

I was so confused, and Baker must have sensed it because he said, "We can't stay. We're just dropping off the groceries."

Neil pressed a disappointed smile together. Not one forged in anger but hurt. "It's just as well," he said, more to his son than me. "I have a date."

Baker stilled, holding a brick of butter in his hand. "A date?"

"That's right," he smiled with pride before taking it.

"What's her name?"

I couldn't believe the scene unfolding before me. It was strange like the entire world had flipped upside down.

"Her name," Neil replied, "is Susan. I met her at AA."

AA? Alcoholics Anonymous.

I didn't know Neil had attended meetings. Come to think of it, I didn't know much about him anymore.

I left them to their chat, keeping my eyes fixed on one of last year's races playing on the screen in the living room, but I couldn't help but notice the glimmer of joy radiating in Baker's eyes as he teased his father about his date.

We didn't stay long. Susan was due to arrive soon, and Neil still had to prepare.

"It was nice to see you, Hadley," Neil said as we left, leaning against the wall with hands in his pockets. "Tell your dad I said hello."

I stared vacantly at Neil as Baker opened the door—the cold hitting my legs. There was no animosity in his words, just sheer kindness, and I couldn't help but wonder if my father and he had started speaking again too.

Baker and I climbed into the truck and were met with nothing but silence.