Eleven: Bailee

BAILEE

By the time we pulled up to my brother’s house, one way too large for only one person, Brinley’s forehead had cooled, and she was dozing in and out of sleep. I had held her to my chest tightly, terrified that we would be in a car accident and she would be sent flying without a car seat.

“Baby, we’re going to stay in Uncle Ben’s house for a little bit,” I whispered, wanting her to know where she was even though she was falling asleep. It would be terrifying for her to wake up in a strange place in the morning.

“Uncle Ben?” She asked, her excitement muffled by her exhaustion.

“Let’s get you into bed, and we’ll see Uncle Ben soon,” I said as Bash unlocked the door and gestured for us to enter first.

The house looked sterile; not a single thing was out of place. It would probably bother him to see the kind of mess a toddler can make within a few minutes.

Ignoring my concern for invading Ben’s space, I walked down the hallway, checking multiple doors, before I found a guest room