48. Huckslee

Huckslee

" A lready, I can tell this one is better than the last. The open concept brings in a lot of natural light. Plenty of cabinet space, a double wall oven, and an island for more cooking room. Honestly, Mr. Davis, this place is just beautiful."

Blowing a stray curl out of my face, I slump back in my seat and let go of Baby Bones to rub my palms into my eyes. I'm so damn tired. I pushed myself hard in the gym earlier this morning and then immediately jumped onto a video call with Randy, my agent, while he and a realtor spent the last four fucking hours showing me places to rent in Baltimore.

One week to go, and I still haven't signed a lease. There were talks about buying a place instead, but...that felt too permanent. I'll just pay rent a year in advance at a time.

"So, what do you think?" Randy turns the camera toward his face, running a free hand through his light beard. "I like this one. Good neighborhood, too. Secure. No one's allowed in without a code for the gate. "

"I guess."

Really, they're all beginning to look the same. Why do I care about shit like double wall ovens and cabinet space? Who will I be cooking for once I'm out there? No one. Me, myself, and I.

Randy frowns at my lack of enthusiasm and takes off his thick-rimmed glasses. "Huckslee, can I be candid with you for a moment?"

Please, don't. "I'd appreciate that."

He waves to the realtor, letting her know he'll be back before stepping onto a back balcony. "Look, son, I can tell that your heart isn't in this. And while I know it will be a big change for you, and that can be scary, time is running out. You need to decide on a place by the end of the day so we can get this ball rolling."

"I know, I know," I sigh, looking over at the rumpled, empty bed in Taylor's room that we've been sharing. "I just...I have a lot on my mind."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Eh..."

What can I say, exactly? That I'm less than thrilled about an opportunity most people only dream of, with more money in my bank account than I know what to do with and more on the way? That I spent the last four years as a shell of a person, revolving my life around something that didn't even set my soul on fire because it was the only thing I could think of to fill the void? That I'd rather live in this small duplex with my boyfriend and two other people plus a rabbit, bartending and creating art for his dream ?

As much as I want to, I'm contractually obligated to be in Baltimore. There's no way around it. And though I'd love for Taylor to move with me, his life and his career are here in Utah. So, instead, I just shrug and give some vague excuse about missing my friends and family, even though I haven't heard a word from my dad since I walked out on the Fourth of July three weeks ago. No response to my texts or calls, and not gonna lie; it hurts. More than anything. Logan, at least, has been a little more chatty, but I haven't seen him since then, either. He's agreed to be Taylor and Christian's business manager, though, so that's something.

"If you want time to think it over, I can give you until five," Randy continues sympathetically, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "The realtor can have the papers drawn up by tomorrow morning."

Well, shit. This is really happening. As much as I'd tried to put it off and forget it all summer...our time is just about up. What good would waiting until later do? There really isn't anything that could change the situation.

"No, it's fine. That place is fine. She can get the paperwork started now."

Randy blinks at that, bushy brows furrowing. "You sure? I have no problem waiting for you to make a decision."

Except you've been waiting a month already.

"Yeah, I like that one. Like you said, lots of natural light. An extra room for a home gym. Checks all my boxes."

"Alright, if you're certain. I'll send everything to your email by the end of the day, and then we can talk tomorrow about getting your things shipped."

"Sounds good, thanks, Randy. Talk to you later. "

Once the video call goes black, I feel all the strength leave my body, and I let my head fall to the desk, gathering my thoughts. There's still so much to do and so little time. Never enough time.

I stand with a sigh, heading over to the dresser to grab a pair of briefs, my throat closing at the sight of Taylor's folded pairs next to mine. He hates folding his laundry, so I've been doing it for him. That man would live out of the dryer if he could–and he did until I started staying here. I'm really going to miss putting his clothes away for him, strange as it sounds.

After putting BB in her cage, I head into the bathroom for a quick shower, scrubbing off all the sweat from the gym that I didn't get a chance to do earlier. Everything aches. I'd gotten lost in my head this morning, thinking about the seven days I have left while on the weight bench, and my shoulders are screaming.

Throwing on some clothes, I roll my stiff joints and wave to Arya on the couch before heading outside, where Christian and Taylor are tuning up their bikes in the driveway. Loud, thrashing music thumps from a portable speaker while my boyfriend kneels, bent over, focusing on putting back the skid plate, dark hair falling into his face. It's getting longer now, the dyed tips faded and touching the collar of his tank top. He's so fucking gorgeous, it takes my breath away. How did I get so lucky?

Sensing my presence, his head snaps up, and he smiles over at me leaning against the porch railing, his color-changing eyes lighting up. When he sees the expression on my face, though, the smile drops, making my heart lurch. I only ever want to make him happy, always. And it kills me that I can't .

"How did it go?" he asks, setting down a screwdriver.

I shrug with a wince. "Alright, I guess. Finally picked a place. Everything should be official by tomorrow."

His gaze drops as he nods, wiping the oil off his hands with a rag. "That's good."

We both fall silent, the space between our words heavy. Christian shoots me an annoyed look over the seat of his own bike, choosing this moment to gather up his tools and take them to the shed. Wandering from the porch, I stuff my hands in my pockets and watch Taylor work, taking in his graceful fingers and toned, inked arms. My back twinges, causing me to grunt, and his eyes meet mine before he gets to his feet.

"Turn around."

When I do, his hands find my shoulders, kneading and pressing into my sore muscles in a way that has me groaning. He works his way down my spine, thumbs moving in circles down to my obliques, and I wish we could just forgo work tonight to lay in bed, watching movies and holding each other. I don't feel like we did that enough. I want more.

"I hate this," he whispers softly, leaning his forehead against my shoulder blades as he continues to massage me.

"Hate what?"

" This . The silence, the broken look in your eyes. Feeling like everything's about to change. I don't like it."

Reaching up to rub my aching chest, I clear the emotion clogging my throat. "Everything is about to change, though."

"Yeah, but...we'll be okay, right?"

My mouth falls open to respond, but it shuts when I can't think of what to say. Because I want us to be okay, I really do, but what if we aren't? What if the distance becomes too much, and we drift apart? There's no use in bringing it up because we've already had this discussion numerous times over the last few days. Instead, I turn and pull him against my chest, kissing him gently.

"We need to leave soon."

Those eyes I love so much darken, something akin to hurt flashing across his features before he nods and steps away. "Yeah. Let me get my bike in the shed, and then we'll go."

"Taylor, wait–"

He cuts me off with a shake of his head, wheeling his bike away. "It's fine. We knew this had a time limit when we started it."

Fuck , but I don't want it to. I want to continue as we have been, but it's impossible. And even though I know I should go after him, drag him back, and reassure him that everything will be alright, I can't. Because how can I give him something that I can't give myself? Giving him hope feels like a lie. Will I do everything possible to maintain this relationship from across the country? Of course, but...sometimes, love isn't enough.

We all pile into Christian's Bronco, none of us speaking, as he drives us to the Prospector for work. I can feel his judging eyes from the rearview mirror, but I keep my focus out the window, every desolate thought crushing me like an anvil. If it wasn't for the medicine I'd taken earlier during the call with my agent, I'm pretty sure I'd be in full panic mode right now. Thanks to Taylor making life so much better, I haven't needed to take it in a few months, but with my impending departure...I couldn't help it. I caved.

When we pull up to work, Taylor gets out and enters the building without a word or glance back. Before I can follow, Christian grabs my arm.

"Hold up, hermano ," he leans against the door of the Bronco, pulling out a pack of smokes. "Let's talk."

Sighing heavily, I fold my arms, raising a brow at him to continue. He takes a moment, lighting his smoke and inhaling deeply before he speaks.

"What are your intentions with my boy?"

"Really?" A snort leaves my throat, nose scrunching. "You're giving me the dad talk? Now ?"

"Well, his own dad ain't around to do it, so someone's got to."

"Christian, the apartment is small. You've walked in on us a time or two. I'm pretty sure you know my intentions."

"I don't mean with his body, Huckslee." Smoke curls around us when he exhales, hazel eyes narrowing. "I'm talking about his heart."

That hits me like a kick to the gut, and I flinch. "I'd never hurt him."

Again.

"Maybe not intentionally."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just a little observation from an outside perspective." Finishing up, he leans down and puts the cigarette out on his tire before tucking it behind his ear. "Either you're all in, or you're not. You've had one foot out the door since the beginning, and even if Tay hasn't noticed, I have. Don't string him along only to break him later because then I'd have to break your face. "

I gape at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. My initial reaction is to deny, deny, deny , but deep down, I know he's right. I began this whole thing unsure if it would even work, and somehow, along the way, I just decided it probably wouldn't.

"It's not fair to him," Christian continues in my silence. "Like I said, all in or nothing. If you don't think you'll last, break it off before you go."

I recoil from that, rearing back with my lips curled. "You want me to break up with him?"

"No, culo , I want you guys to live happily ever after, but I'd rather help him pick up the pieces sooner rather than later. You feel me?"

Goddammit. And suddenly, I feel like the worst boyfriend on the face of the planet.

"Yeah. I feel you."

He slaps my shoulder before heading inside, leaving me to my thoughts, and all I can do is pace with my hands in my hair. I don't want to break things off with Taylor. I don't . I want to spend the rest of my life separating his laundry and bickering over me using his face moisturizer.

I want to wake up to the scent of his body wash and morning breath and fall asleep with his naked body on top of mine. How the fuck did we get here? Four short months ago, I never would have dreamed that the source of all my pain could bring me the most happiness I've ever known. And I don't want to give it up. I can't. I won't.

But how do I show him? What can I do to lessen the blow of my absence while still making him feel like he's wanted and loved? Because that's what my baby needs; to be needed in return. But how the fuck am I supposed to do that from miles away?

With that thought weighing heavily on my mind, I head inside to do my prep work before the bar opens, setting up and ensuring kegs are full. Once we open, it gets busy, as usual, for a Friday night, and I don't see much of Taylor between making drinks and taking food orders. The few times I spot him running dishes to the back, he refuses to catch my gaze, twisting my stomach into knots. A few hours into the night, when we reach a lull in business, Juanita steps behind the bar and tugs my earlobe painfully hard, making me yelp.

"What did you do to my Taylor, hm? He's being more bratty than usual!"

"I didn't do anything," I refute, yanking myself out of her grasp to massage my ear, and she points a gnarled finger at me.

" Pinche mentiroso , you fix it! Now!"

With an iron grip, she shoves me through the door into the kitchen, where I stumble over the floor mat and slam right into Taylor's back. He drops all his dishes with an oomph , glass shattering all over the tile.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He whirls around, mouth open to shout, but slams it shut when he sees me standing there like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry...Juanita pushed me. I'll clean it up."

His eyes follow me as I grab the broom and dustpan, sweeping the sharp shards into a pile. "And why is Juanita pushing you?"

I shrug, depositing the mess into a trash can. "Because she thinks I pissed you off and wants me to make it better. "

Christian smirks over his shoulder from the sink, shaking his head before returning to what he's doing. When I notice Gale glaring at me, I lift my chin and mouth what? He doesn't break his stare or respond, which isn't surprising because I don't even think he talks. Taylor crosses his arms, drawing my attention back to the matter at hand.

"She's such a mama bear," my boyfriend huffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm just in a shitty mood."

"Because of me?"

He drops his head, letting dark strands fall into his eyes as he kicks the trash can. "No...the situation, yes, but not you."

"Baby," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, "we both knew that I'd be leaving toward the end of summer."

"Yeah, I know," he turns away, the defeated tone of his voice making my heart crack. "I've got more dishes to grab, Huck. I'll see you later."

That's how the rest of the night goes; Taylor ignoring me and being a beast to everyone else. And because Juanita thinks I'm the reason, so does the whole staff, which means they're all giving me the cold shoulder, too. I'm not particularly close with most of them, but it still stings.

Two in the morning comes and goes for last call, and once the bar shuts down, I stay behind to help close up like usual. As I'm mopping the front, I hear pounding on the front door, and Salem's face appears through the glass, scowling at me. I tip-toe over the wet surface and unlock the door, raising a brow at her when I pull it open.

"What are you doing here?"

"Picking up Taylor," she brushes past me, leaving footprints all over my clean floor as she marches toward the kitchen .

"What the fuck?" My brows slam down as I follow on her heels. "What do you mean, picking him up? It's the middle of the night."

Christian and Taylor are putting everything away when we step through, and Taylor's eyes briefly meet mine before he gives his attention to Salem. "We're almost finished. Ten more minutes, and we can go."

"Go? Go where?" I block his path on the way to lock up the walk-in freezer. "Tay, what's going on?"

He licks his lips, looking everywhere but at my face. "I'm going to stay at Salem and Xed's tonight. Matty's gone with Valerie and Hannah, so I'll chill with them while they get high."

My jaw tightens painfully, blood pulsing in my veins. "Why?"

"I just...need some space," he mumbles with his back to me, finishing his work tasks, and it feels like my heart just dropped to the ground. Christian and Salem watch me closely as if waiting for me to react poorly. All I can do is gaze at the ground, feeling like my walls are closing in.

When everything is finished, and we shut off the lights, I trail after them out the employee exit, waiting until Taylor veers off toward Salem's Jeep before speaking.

"Why are we always running away from each other?"

His steps falter, and he stops, turning his head slightly. The fingers at his sides flex before he continues on, sliding inside the vehicle. They pull out onto the road, and I watch him slip away from me bitterly until he's nothing but a speck of light against the night sky.