The Baker Boy (Harry Styles) Book 1

Chapter 6

Maedbh’s POV

“So Harry was trying to get your attention all night” Uncle Simon comments as we drive back home. I nod, my cheeks going red as I think about this evening. First I had actually fallen asleep on his bed. I’d fallen asleep. And it had come easily. That had been the first sleep I’d had in days where sleep had come quickly. Of course, it had ended just as fast when I had woken to see Harry in nothing but a towel. That had been embarrassing. And the fact that he had seemed completely comfortable like that. Oh god. I had done my best to avoid looking, but it had been hard. He had been surprisingly fit. I mean, I could tell he was when he was wearing clothes, but it was a whole other thing to see him without clothes on. Then later, when he asked me why I dislike him? I was speechless. I didn’t know what to tell him at all. How do you explain to someone that you hate them for what they are, not who they are. For what they stand for instead of them personally. It was complicated. Especially since the Savemore I got to know him, the more I liked him.

I sigh in frustration which causes Uncle Simon to look over at me questioningly.

“You know, if you actually gave him a chance, you might discover he’s not as bad as you think” he muses. I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. I had seen how he acted in school. Which meant, at best, he was two faced. I didn’t want to get mixed up with that.

We get back to the house and I head inside and up to my room to finish my homework. Uncle comes up at around 11:30 with a cup of tea.

“I figured you could use this,” he offers extending the cup to me. I take it with a grateful smile. I hold the cup close, inhaling the warm smell, my eyes closed. A smile flits across my face as I inhale the familiar scent. It was the same tea my mom used to make. My eyes fill with tears as I think of this and the next thing I know, Uncle Simon pulls me into a hug.

“It’s ok sweetie,” he says softly rubbing my back as the tears slide down my cheeks.

“Do you think? Tomorrow?” I choke out, knowing he’d know what I’m talking about. He nods his head “If you think you’re ready” he says. I take a shaky breath, pulling back as I nod my head. “Ok” he says giving me a kiss on my forehead as he stands up. He walks out of the room and I climb into bed tiredly. It takes a while, but eventually the tears run out and I manage to fall asleep.

I wake up to rays of light poking in through the window and trudge into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, grimacing slightly at the sight of me. My eyes were red and my cheeks were tear stained from crying. My hair was a rat’s nest. I splash some water on my face to try to hide the evidence of crying and drag a brush through my hair wincing slightly as I hit the snarls. I forego putting on any makeup since I knew I’d probably cry it off later today anyways.

I head downstairs and see Uncle Simon already up, sitting at the kitchen table. When he sees me he stands up and wordlessly grabs the keys and we head out the door. The first place we stop is the florist and we get two bouquets of flowers. Then, we arrive at the cemetery. Once it was decided that I would be living with Uncle Simon, we had elected to have them buried here so I’d be able to visit them. I walk down the path to the graves. As I stand in front of the tombstones I feel the familiar sense of numbness settle over me as I read the names of my parents. I kneel down in front of the grave placing a bouquet on the grave. I still had trouble believing they were actually gone. That they were never coming back.

“Hey mom and dad” I say softly, a tear sliding down my cheek.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come visit yet. I only got out here a week ago and then school started so I’ve been busy. Things have been ok so far.” I say starting to tell them about what’s been going on. “I work in Uncle Simon’s Bakery. It’s really nice there. You remember how much I like to bake.” I say lapsing into silence. A few more tears slip down my cheeks. “I’m really sorry” I whisper my hand tightening into a fist in my lap. A hand settles on my shoulder and I look up to see Uncle Simon there. He gives me a sad smile and squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. I take a shaky breath as I stand up and we head back to the car. One place down, one to go.

We pull up to the building and Uncle Simon puts the car into park, looking over at me. I stare at the building, frozen. I couldn’t get out of the car, it would make it real.

“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to go in” he says sympathetically. I shake my head willing myself to move and, after a few more seconds, I’m able to convince my hands to unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. We walk in and walk down the hallway and into the room. I let out a strangled noise seeing him lying there. My little brother, Caellum . Hooked up to all those machines, keeping him alive. The tears start up again. He looked so helpless. He had been in a coma since the accident had happened two months ago. They had transferred him here when I had recovered enough to leave the hospital myself and move in with Uncle Simon. I had been unconscious for a week myself but I had woken, he hadn’t. I walk over to the edge of the bed and run a hand down his hair. He looked so different. Before, everyone had always loved him. He had been so full of life, the person that everyone would do anything for. He had the entire town wrapped around his finger. My eyes well up with tears again and I look over at Uncle Simon who was putting the second bouquet in a vase next to his bed.

“The nurse says he’s stable sweetie, he could wake up any day,” he says trying to be optimistic.

“They’ve been saying that for a month now” I choke out looking back at the broken body of my brother. I trace the white scar on his forehead from where his head at gone through the window. When he had been admitted he had gone right into surgery to stop the swelling in his head and they also set the bones he had broken in his neck and ribs.

“You just have to keep faith,” he murmurs, resting a hand on my shoulder. We stay in the room a couple more hours. I sit by his bed, holding his limp hand, praying he’d wake up. When the nurses come in to tell us visiting hours are over, I take one last look at him as I walk out the door back to the car.

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