40. Taylor

Taylor

June

" I swear to God, if you bring me any more dishes, I'll cut your shoelaces."

Slamming down the lever on the small industrial dishwasher, I turn to glare at my coworker Eliza as she piles another tub of dirty cups and cutlery into the large sink. Her dark cheeks redden as she glances down at the Balenciaga sneakers on her feet in horror before meeting my gaze.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Fucking try me." Reaching into the drying rack, I pull out a pair of clean scissors, waggling them at her shoes for emphasis. Not in the mood tonight. Or any night until my boyfriend comes back.

With a huff, she turns on her heel, tightening the dark bun on the top of her head as she pushes open the swinging door that leads out into the bar from the kitchen. "Christian! Come get your boy. He's threatening violence! "

I'll show you violence .

Muttering under my breath, I dunk a bundle of dirty spoons underwater, pretending to drown them slowly. Out of my peripheral, Gale, the cook, shakes his large head at me from over the grill, but I just throw him a sour look. Usually, I enjoy being on dish duty more than cleaning tables, but honestly, the last few days have been rough without Huckslee.

That whole week before he left was a dream come true, having him all up in my space and in my bed. Crawling in next to his sleeping body after a long night at work, waking up every morning to my cock in his mouth. Showering with him. My ass twinges when I think about the amount of sex we had. Even though I knew he was trying to distract himself from his fight with Logan, I loved every minute of it. Now he's been gone for an entire seven days, and I'm fucking miserable.

One more long week to go.

I don't know if I'll make it.

"Why you being a moody bitch, pendejo ?" Christian smacks my back, causing me to pitch forward, splashing nasty ass sludge water onto my jeans.

Grabbing the sprayer, I squeeze the trigger, hitting him directly in the face. "Fuck off."

He shouts, raising his arms to shield himself against the stream. "Hey, Juanita! Did you see that shit? Taylor assaulted me."

Through the open office door in the back, our boss glances up from behind her desk with a smirk. " No hablo inglés ."

"Why does she only pretend not to understand English when it involves you?" Christian clicks his tongue in mock offense .

"Because I'm a delight and her favorite."

He shoves me again, and I take aim, spraying the front of his pants this time before he wrenches the damned thing from my hands.

"Okay, killer, put down the deadly weapon, and let's go smoke."

Letting him guide me toward the employee entrance, I spot Eliza bringing in another tub of dishes, her eyes narrowed in my direction. She's a sweet girl, and we get along great, but I scissor my fingers at her and mouth snip snip as I follow Christian outside. He pops a cigarette into my mouth and lights it for me, then one for himself, as we both lean back against the building.

I didn't need a single smoke while I was with Huck. Now, I'm almost up to an entire pack a day. I hate this. My lungs hate this. So does my wallet.

"You know," Christian starts slowly as he exhales, "it's only been one week, man."

My head thumps back against the wall, eyes on the dark sky. "I know."

"He'll be gone much longer when he leaves in August."

No shit, asshole. "I know."

We smoke in silence for a while, low bass of the music inside mixing with the traffic on the street. I've almost finished the entire cig when he finally speaks again.

"If you miss him so much, why don't you visit?"

"You don't think I want to? Almost didn't stop on the way here tonight. Just wanted to keep driving until I got to Cali."

"So why didn't you? "

I start to respond but stop, realizing he has a point. Why am I still here when my boyfriend is eight hundred miles away? He didn't explicitly invite me, but maybe he wasn't sure if I'd want to come. Chewing my bottom lip, I consider his words. "I can't exactly afford a plane ticket on such short notice, and the drive is like fifteen hours."

"So?" Christian shrugs, putting his cigarette out on the ground before tucking the butt behind his ear. "We've gone on longer trips. Remember when we drove to Portland for doughnuts?"

"Those were Voodoo Doughnuts, and they were totally worth it," I argue, tossing the rest of my snuffed-out smoke into the dumpster. "Plus, I had you and Salem with me. I'd have to make this drive alone."

"You can do it, cari?o , I have faith."

Well, yeah, I probably could, but…

I hate being alone. And I've never gone anywhere outside of Utah by myself before. Not to mention…

"I don't even know where he's staying."

Christian's brows jump at that. "He didn't tell you?"

"He told me that he had an apartment off campus with a roommate, but I don't actually know the address, you know?"

"And you can't ask him for it because...?"

I shift my head from side to side, debating whether to voice my concerns. "What if he doesn't even want to see me? Like, what if he's happy with the space?"

"Taylor. My man." He grasps my shoulders, shaking his head with a grin. "You FaceTime every night, and when he stayed with us, you were practically joined at the hip. Or should I say ass? By the sounds constantly coming from your room, I'm pretty sure he lived inside your butthole."

"Shut the fuck up, dude." I slap his hands away from me, face heating and his laugh echoes around us.

"My point, nympho, is that Huckslee can't get enough of you. I'm sure he'd be thrilled if you showed up."

Yeah, maybe. But there's still that nagging voice of doubt in my head, telling me he's glad for the time apart. He probably has friends out there he's been missing, and he needs to say goodbye to his grandparents before leaving for training camp. What if I show up and mess up all his plans?

And then there's an even darker thought: what if he's using this separation as a test to see how we deal without each other? Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Is this as hard for him as it is for me? Hell, we've only been together a short time, but I'm already fucking gone for this man. The moment he kissed me again, I was done for. Can't be without him, don't even want to try. But what if—

Christian snaps his fingers in my face, cutting off my thoughts. "Taylor, just go. It'll be fine. I'll smooth things over with Juanita, and you can get some dick so that you stop being an asshat."

God, some dick sounds so good right about now. But not just any dick. Huckslee's dick.

With a snort, I drag my best friend back inside by the arm. "We both know Juanita lets me do whatever I want, anyway."

"Don't I fucking know it."

The rest of the night has me in a better mood as I plan out what I'm going to do, and when I talk to Huck upon returning home, I try to get as much information out of him as possible without making him suspicious.

Like what's his schedule for the week? Where will he be? Who is he going to be with?

Somehow, I manage to gather as much information as possible without sounding like a jealous househusband, and the following morning, I'm filling up my gas tank to head out. As I return the pump, my fingers shake with nerves and anticipation.

After hanging up with Huck last night, I called Logan on a hunch. He wasn't thrilled to get a call at two in the morning, but he did have the address to Huck's apartment in Berkeley. Taking a deep breath, I plug the address into my phone's GPS and start the long, lonely journey to surprise my boyfriend.

And I do mean long.

And lonely.

Three hours into it, I debate turning around to drag Salem with me, or at least Xed but decide against it because their lives and jobs aren't as flexible as mine.

Five hours go by, and I'm so bored that I pick up a hitchhiker at a gas station, agreeing to take him as far as Carson City, Nevada. He's a pretty chill older guy, kinda odd. We chat and jam to Pink Floyd and The Rolling Stones for four hours. When I drop him off, he offers me a baggie of coke or a blowie for the ride, which I quickly decline but thank him anyway—what else do you say when someone offers you free drugs and a blowjob?

The next seven hours are pure torture. Just red dirt and cacti for miles. I call every person I know, even Huckslee's dad, which made for a weird five-minute conversation. I asked how he was; he said fine. He asked how I was; I said fine. When he offered to put Maisie on the phone, I quickly ended the call because nope. I'm good.

Only person I didn't call was Huck since that would ruin the surprise.

By the time I pull into Berkeley, it's night again, and I'm exhausted. My eyes are burning, my collarbone aches like a motherfucker from the gear shift, and there's a cramp in my thigh. Road-tripping alone is not for the weak, and I won't be doing it again. Zero out of ten stars; do not recommend.

Huck's apartment complex is just a few blocks from his university, which honestly looks like an old cathedral, complete with pristine white columns and a steeple, the San Francisco Bay visible in the distance. The Bay is probably a breathtaking sight in daylight, but right now, I can only see dark, rippling water. As I step out of the truck and stretch, the smell of sea salt mixed with weed is so strong it nearly makes me cough. I'm hit with a bit of culture shock when I see a group of people lighting a bong in a nearby stairwell.

Right. Definitely not in Utah anymore.

Glancing down at the address Logan gave me, I wander around the complex, taking in the carefully landscaped rocks and tan stucco buildings until I find the one I'm looking for. His unit is on the second floor, and as I make my way up the stairs and down a breezeway, uncertainty starts to settle in. My breath comes out in short gasps when I find his door, and I raise my hand to knock.

Fuck, what if this is a mistake? What if he... isn't alone?

The door swings open, and I blink at the guy on the other side. He's a bit taller than I am, tan, with long blond waves tumbling over his shoulders. A loose button-up shirt reveals lean muscles, paired with board shorts—a typical surfer dude if I ever saw one. But damn, this guy is pretty. Big blue eyes and long lashes. From what I've been told, this must be Huck's roommate, Shawn. I'm slightly jealous.

"Can I help you?" He asks with the voice of an angel, and I frown.

Okay, I'm more than slightly jealous.

"Uh, yeah." Clearing my throat, I glance over his shoulder. "I'm looking for Huckslee Davis. Is he here?"

He eyes me cautiously, shaking his head. "Not currently. Sorry, man."

Wait, what? Fuck. He told me he had no plans other than packing up his stuff tonight.

"Do you know how long he'll be out?"

"Probably not until tomorrow, honestly."

"Tomorrow?" My voice breaks with rising panic. "Are you sure?"

Hot surfer Shawn gives me a nod. "Yeah. He's at Greg's place."

I stare at him, utterly baffled for a moment. "Who's Greg?"

"His boyfriend."

My heart drops so far into my stomach that I swear I feel it crack. The ground shifts beneath my feet, and I have to lean against the doorway to keep myself from tumbling over my unsteady feet.

His...boyfriend.

Huckslee has a boyfriend? Has he had one this whole time? Did he cheat on me? Am I...am I the side piece?

Was this the reason he wanted to end things?

"Do you happen to have the address?" I croak, my throat feeling like gravel, and my lungs seize when Shawn shakes his head again.

"I don't. Sorry, man, wish I could help."

I'm full-on freaking out now, hyperventilating, fingers shaking as I lift my snapback and tug on my hair. I knew this was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here. And now I just wasted fifteen hours of my life driving out to a state and city I've never been to before, completely alone and nearly broke, if I'm being honest.

God, I'm a fucking idiot.

Shawn eyes me with concern the longer I stand at his door, and he places a hand on my shoulder when small choked noises start to claw from my throat.

"You okay? Do you need me to call him for you?"

"No!" Jerking out of his touch, I shake my head quickly, turning toward the stairs to run back to my truck. "I-I'm fine. Sorry to bother you, forget I was here."

He calls after me, but I run faster, reaching the cab and collapsing against the steering wheel, trying not to throw up all the junk food I've eaten. Jesus, I haven't felt this way in years—not since Huckslee first left to come here. It feels like I'm splitting in half. My head is throbbing, blood roaring in my ears, and my chest is so heavy it feels like I'm being crushed. Without thinking, I pull out my phone and dial Logan's number. He answers on the first ring.

"Hey, what's up? Did you make it?"

"I fucked up." It comes out as a strangled whisper, my throat too tight to speak louder, and Logan pauses momentarily .

"What do you mean? What happened?"

I lick my chapped lips, mouth dry. "He's not here. I showed up, but he isn't here."

"Well, where is he?"

"I don't know." I'm so stupid. "I don't know where he is, Logan, and I'm by myself and freaking out. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Fuck, look at me. I'm twenty-two, and I'm having a meltdown like a child, but I'm powerless to stop it. Can't even remember the last time I did anything alone like this before. Don't think I ever have.

"Do you want me to call him and find out for you?"

"Please, don't. I don't want him to know I'm here."

More silence greets my ears, his steady breaths calming me a fraction. "Okay. Okay, I think I have an idea. This app lets us track each other's phones in emergencies. I can get his location and send it to you. Would that help?"

That's actually super smart. Should look into something like that for Salem, Arya, and the guys.

"Yeah, man, that'd help a lot."

Part of me doesn't believe what pretty boy Shawn said; I want to see what Huck is up to.

Could just call him and ask , says a voice in the back of my head that I should probably listen to, but I ignore it, misinterpreting the alarm bells ringing in my gut.

My phone pings a second later as Logan speaks once again. "I just sent it, but I really think one of us should call him. You've got me worried."

"No, no, I'm fine. I'll be fine. Promise. Thanks, Loge. I appreciate it. I'll text when I find him. "

He says something else, but I miss it as I hang up and check my texts for Huck's whereabouts. Entering the coordinates he sent me into the GPS, I'm relieved to find he's only a few blocks away as I throw the truck into gear and peel out of the parking lot, speeding back the way I came. Pulling up to the address, I gape out the window at a large two-story brick frat house. A giant, hand-painted banner hangs from the balcony reading CONGRATS GRADS , and vehicles are parked all up and down the street.

What the hell is he doing here?

Luckily, there's a spot nearby, so I parallel park the truck before making my way up the sidewalk toward the house. Music is bumping so loud that I hear it from down the street, empty cups and trash littering the front yard. A wide porch leads to two double wooden doors thrown open, and groups of people enter and exit. Some are smoking outside, others already passed out in the bushes. This is obviously a graduation party, judging by the homemade graduation caps people are wearing. As I step onto the porch, I scan faces for Huck but come up empty.

A few ladies near the entrance eye me with interest, but no one stops me as I step into the house and take in what I can only describe as utter chaos. People are everywhere , wall to wall, bass pounding so loudly from massive speakers that I can feel it vibrating through my feet. The crystal chandelier above my head even shakes, and I step to the side in case it detaches and crushes me. My body accidentally collides with someone playing beer pong near the entryway, causing them to spill their drink down their front. Before I can shout an apology, I'm shoved back so hard that I trip over a twisted rug and fall on my ass with a wince.

No one helps me up. No, these people just step on my fucking fingers where I sit on the ground in front of a sweeping staircase, and I scramble to my feet as the crowd forces me into a living room. More tables are set out for pong games, strobe lights blinking while couples make out on the couches, and I have to do a double take because did I just see what I think I saw?

Yep. Totally did. There are two women literally fucking each other on the coffee table while bystanders cheer them on. Holy hell. And I thought the parties Christian and I used to throw were wild. This is on a whole other level.

Still no sign of Huck. I start asking around, tapping people on the shoulder to shout in their ears if they've seen him, but I'm either met with blank looks or head shakes. One guy mistook me leaning in for an invitation and planted a kiss on my cheek, prompting me to quickly run in the opposite direction, wiping his spit off my skin. Desperation claws at me as I continue searching, feeling disoriented and fucking exhausted from the long drive.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I step into the kitchen, blinking them away while I rest my aching shoulder against the wall to catch my breath. I'm about to pull out my phone to call him when a loud laugh draws my attention. I turn toward the back door and see a group of guys gathered around a firepit in the backyard, Golden Bears colors adorning their varsity jackets.

Football players. I recognize them from the games I watched Huck play. Shoving off the wall, I weave through the crowd and head outside. As I make my way over, a few of them raise their brows at me when I enter their circle, but luckily, the music is muffled enough out here for them to hear me speak.

"Hey guys, I'm looking for Huckslee Davis. Anyone seen him?"

A player to my right flicks his gaze over me with a smirk. "Maybe. Who's asking?"

Some teammates snicker, one rolling his eyes, and I scrub a hand down my face.

"I'm his, uh...stepbrother. I drove in from out of town to surprise him, but I don't know where he is."

"Oh, shit. My bad. Never knew he had a brother. He's upstairs with Greg."

Seriously? He...never told his team about me?

One of them points toward the upstairs balcony, and relief floods my system when I spot Huck's familiar form leaning against the railing. A smaller guy stands before him, a dark brunette wearing a polo. When he turns slightly, recognition hits me like a punch to the gut.

The boyfriend from his FB profile picture last year.

Huck's arms are crossed, but the guy has a hand resting on his bicep, standing too close for comfort. My whole body tenses as that asshole stands on his tiptoes and places a fucking kiss on my boyfriend's mouth. I hold my breath, waiting for something to happen—for Huck to shove him away, to shout, to at least wipe the damn kiss off. But what he does instead has me seeing red.

He smiles .

A bright, luminous grin lights up his handsome face as he reaches out and touches the other guy's shoulder. Suddenly, I can't breathe. My vision swims, eyes stinging from tears that threaten to spill over. I bite my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood assaults my tongue. The roaring in my ears drowns out the thumping music, and I drop my gaze, causing a single tear to leak down my cheek.

He's never smiled at me like that. Not that I can remember.

And now it all makes sense—why he was so hesitant to pursue anything with me, why he never invited me to come here for his graduation. Because Greg was waiting for him at home. He never planned on this relationship going any further than July.

In a daze, I stumble back into the kitchen, where I find myself standing before the counter cluttered with liquor. A bottle of Kraken Rum catches my eye, jumbled thoughts and feelings swirling around my head. What even was I to him? Just something to pass the summer away? All of the things we said to each other, all of the bullshit we worked through...was it even real?

Did I mean anything to him at all?

My hand slowly rises to the bottle, wrapping around its neck, testing the feel of it as memories flicker behind my eyes.

Harsh words snarled after bruises, my father's voice inside my head synchronizing with my own, saying things to Huckslee that I never should have said.

The feeling of my bones snapping against my father's hands, followed by Huck's arm breaking.

Holding him underwater while he drowned .

The look on his face when that curtain opened right before I almost lost him.

But I did lose him, didn't I? I never even had him.

Blood, so much blood.

"Stay with me, baby."

How could I ever believe he'd love me after everything I've done?

I don't deserve it. I don't deserve him.

Before I can even process what I'm doing, the lid is off the bottle, cold glass pressing to my lips. Spiced liquid slides down my throat as I sip something that I haven't tasted since the night I went to jail for beating up Huckslee's dad.

And I sip again.

And again.

Until I'm

Fucking

Gone .