Bailey (Angel Institute #3)

Chapter 14

Fourteen

BAILEY

T he key in my hand feels heavier than usual as I trudge up the stairs to my apartment. Logan and I woke up this morning and got to work. Logan had to leave to help the firefighters make the rounds. I missed him right away and then decided it was a good thing he was gone because I was getting too used to having him around.

The scent of white chocolate and chicken broth from the Pampered Pooch Pantry below wafts up and follows me inside. My fingers, still stiff from the cold, fumble with the lock for a moment before I manage to push the door open.

As I step inside, the warmth of the apartment envelops me like a comforting hug. The Christmas lights strung around the windows cast a soft, welcoming glow that immediately eases some of the exhaustion in my shoulders. I breathe in deeply, expecting the usual musty smell of an apartment that’s been closed up all day. Instead, my senses are assaulted by an aroma so rich and inviting that my stomach growls in response.

“Hello?” I call out tentatively, confused by the unexpected scent of home-cooked food.

“In here, dear,” Gladys’s cheerful voice rings out from the small kitchenette.

I round the corner to find Gladys stirring something on the stove. The sight of her in my kitchen, an apron tied around her waist and a wooden spoon in hand, is so unexpected that I can only stand there, blinking in surprise. I’m so grateful she had a place to stay last night. The storm was brutal. With the power back on now, the town is getting their feet back under them.

“Gladys, how did you get in?”

She turns to me with a bright smile, seemingly unperturbed by my bewilderment. “Mrs. Pennington let me in. I hope you don’t mind. I thought you might need a hot meal after being snowed in at the Inn and then working all day.”

The mention of the Inn brings a flood of memories from the past twenty-four hours—most of all, the long conversations with Logan in the soft glow of the tea lights. I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks and quickly look away, hoping Gladys hasn’t noticed.

“That’s very kind of you,” I manage, still a bit overwhelmed by her unexpected presence and generosity. This is the kind of life I didn’t know I was craving. Coming home to a warm and welcoming presence. Having someone to talk to. I didn’t feel lonely before, but now I realize that I was.

Gladys waves her spoon dismissively. “It’s what friends do. Take a seat.”

I sink into one of the chairs at the small dining table. As Gladys bustles about the kitchen, humming a Christmas carol under her breath, I find myself relaxing into this homey feeling.

“Here we are,” Gladys announces, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of me. The rich aroma of vegetables and herbs fills my nostrils, making my mouth water. I didn’t have these ingredients in my fridge. She must have picked them up on her way over.

“Eat up. You look like you could use it.”

I take a spoonful, the warmth spreading through me as I swallow. It’s delicious, reminding me of lazy Sunday afternoons at my grandmother’s house. “This is amazing. You’re a miracle worker.”

She beams at me, settling into the chair across from me with her own bowl. “Miracle cards are for bigger things than stew. Tell me all about your adventure.”

I hesitate, unsure how to begin. The events of the past day feel almost dreamlike—the sudden darkness, the cozy nest of blankets, and most of all, the unexpected connection with Logan.

“It was... interesting,” I say slowly, stirring my soup. “We camped out in the ballroom. Logan and I; we... we talked. A lot.”

Gladys leans forward, her eyes twinkling with interest. “Oh? And how was that?”

I take another spoonful of soup, using the moment to gather my thoughts. “It was nice. Really nice. He told me about becoming a firefighter, and I... I opened up about my ex.”

The words come out in a rush, and I find myself telling Gladys everything—how Logan listened without judgment, how he offered to run my ex out of town if he ever showed up, how he held my hand as we fell asleep. As I speak, I realize how much I needed to share this with someone to process the whirlwind of emotions I’ve been experiencing.

“He was so wonderful about all of it, Gladys,” I finish, my voice soft with wonder. “I’ve never felt so understood before.”

Gladys reaches across the table to pat my hand, her touch warm and comforting. “That’s beautiful, Bailey. It sounds like you two made a real connection.”

I nod, then bite my lip, voicing the fear that’s been nagging at me all day. “He kissed me the other day.”

Gladys drops her spoon into her bowl, sloshing broth onto the table. “He what?”

I laugh at her response. “He kissed me and ran off. Said it was unprofessional.” I shrug. “It’s a little confusing. I feel like we’re connecting, but then he said that, and I don’t know how he feels about me. I’m not that easy to love, so…” I trail off and lift a shoulder in a dismissive shrug.

“Oh, honey,” Gladys interrupts gently, “Why do you think you’re hard to love?”

I’ve always just assumed people found me difficult—it’s what I’ve been told my whole life. My parents didn’t understand how I saw the world in all the colors and beauty. When I was a kid, I wouldn’t turn assignments in on time because I’d get distracted. They were always so exasperated with me. As a teenager, I got frustrated with them and lashed out. It was not a good time. “I... I guess I can be abrasive sometimes,” I admit. “I don’t always express myself well, and I tend to get defensive when people don’t understand my ideas.”

Gladys nods thoughtfully. “That’s very insightful,” Gladys says softly. “It’s not easy to let people in, especially after you’ve been hurt. But from what you’ve told me about Logan, it sounds like he might be worth the risk.”

I nod, wiping at my eyes with my free hand. “I think... I think I might really like him, Gladys. Is that crazy?”

A soft smile spreads across Gladys’s face. “Not crazy at all, dear. Sometimes, when it’s right, you just know.”

Her words spark a memory of the warmth I felt holding Logan’s hand in the darkness, the sense of safety and connection I experienced. “Do you think... could he be the one who was made for me?” I ask hesitantly, hardly daring to voice the thought aloud.

Gladys chuckles, her eyes twinkling with a wisdom that seems beyond her years. “Ah, soulmates. That’s the big question, isn’t it?”

I nod eagerly, curious to hear her perspective.

“Well,” Gladys begins, her voice taking on a nostalgic tone, “my Marlin seemed like my opposite in so many ways, but I can’t imagine having gone through life with anyone else. Maybe we weren’t soulmates, maybe we were. Either way, we chose to create a beautiful life together.”

Her words settle over me, bringing with them a sense of possibility I haven’t allowed myself to feel in years. “So it’s not about finding the perfect person,” I muse, “but about choosing to build something beautiful with someone?”

Gladys beams at me. “It was for me. Love isn’t just something that happens to you—it’s something you nurture and grow together.”

“Thank you, Gladys,” I say softly. “For the soup, and for... everything.”

She stands, gathering our empty bowls. “That ‘s what friends are for, dear. Now, why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had quite a day.”

As Gladys bustles about the kitchen, cleaning up, I make my way to the window. In the street below, I can see a couple walking hand in hand, their laughter drifting up to me.

As I get ready for bed, my mind drifts to Logan—his warm smile, his gentle understanding, the way he made me feel safe. If there’s anyone on the planet I would be willing to trust with my heart, it would be him.

The bigger question is, does he want it?