19. Taylor

CHAPTER 19

TAYLOR

Mickey was a fucking ghost. When Taylor went home the next morning before work, there was no sign of Mickey. Except the dishes had been washed and stacked to dry, and the blanket had been folded. The borrowed clothing was neatly set on top of the washing machine. But no sign of Mickey.

Taylor looked for him at the restaurant, too. Every day, as he was leaving, he took a takeout container full of food, wrapped it in a bag, and left it by the back door. And every day it would be gone. So Mickey was still around there, somewhere.

He thought of asking Colby about Mickey, but stopped himself. If he asked about him, he'd have to explain why and he couldn't come up with a believable lie. He'd end up spilling the whole story about how he'd helped Mickey and had been trusting enough to let him stay in his home. Colby would have told him all the ways Mickey could have hurt him in his sleep and then Taylor might have to admit that he'd spent the night with Colby's best friend and therefore Mickey hadn't been a threat at all.

Besides, he looked too tired and weak to be any real threat. Taylor had never been in a fight, but he could have totally taken Mickey if need be.

There were times when the proximity of him to his family grated on his nerves. He loved his brothers and he'd never not want to work at the diner, but there were times when it was a lot. He was still living at home, essentially, even though he had his own space. That hadn't stopped Colby from barging into it the one day. However good that turned out for both of them, it still irritated him that it had happened at all.

He could only imagine the firestorm it was going to cause when they found out that he was seeing Nash and Damon. Taylor pushed that particular thought out of his head. It was a problem for future Taylor.

He glanced at the clock when Josie came in. Despite having cooked for more people than Taylor could shake a stick at, he'd managed to have the kitchen tidy and ready to hand over. He threw some food together for Mickey and carefully tucked it away in a plastic bag. Remembering Mickey's cough, he tucked a couple of bills into an envelope and scrawled a note to him on it, telling him to get something for it.

If he thought Mickey would listen or would take him up on the offer, he'd tell him to come back to his place for another hot meal and warm night. At least until he felt better. But he knew it was futile. Though Mickey was clearly in the area still, he was making a point of avoiding Taylor.

As he was leaving, his dad came into the kitchen and looked at the bag in his hands. He paused before grabbing the next order. "You know, your friend can always come in the front for a hot meal. No charge."

Taylor shot his dad a smile. It felt frail, and so did Taylor for reasons he couldn't put his finger on. He hated that so much of his life was on display to his family. It was time to look for a different place to live. "He knows, but thanks."

Taylor ducked out the back and set the food down in its usual spot. To keep it dry in the autumn weather, Taylor had brought an old Tupperware container outside and placed the food inside it. It was clear plastic, allowing Mickey to see there was something inside waiting for him, but it kept the rain off.

Taylor's discontent nagged at the back of his mind and it wasn't long before one of his boyfriends picked up on it. Taylor was out with Damon again. Though the weather was chilly, Damon brought him to the antique machinery park, a place where relics from the old days were lovingly cared for and put on display. A steam shovel. An old train caboose. A carefully restored water wheel.

The date was lovely, and Taylor had a great time meandering through the park despite the biting wind. He held hands with Damon, which was somewhat of a novelty. He'd never had the hold-hands-in-public type of boyfriend before. But once they were back in the car and Damon blasted the heat, Taylor fell into his mire of misery again.

"What's up, buttercup?" Damon asked gently, placing a hand on Taylor's thigh as he drove.

"Nothing really. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately."

"Do you need to vent or do you need a distraction?"

Taylor put his hand on top of Damon's and gave it a squeeze. Leave it to Damon to be the perfect boyfriend. In a way, he was thankful for the fact that Damon didn't immediately pry and try to get Taylor to spill his guts about all the little things that were bothering him. Without Taylor realizing it, all those little things had started to add up and now they felt like big things. It was the difference between a snowflake and an avalanche. One little thing wasn't a big deal, but if you put them all together and gave them a shove, they could bury him.

"Maybe both?" Taylor admitted. "It's mostly a lot of small things. I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, because I love my family and I know how lucky I am to have them. But I feel like I have no privacy. I live in my dad's basement and though my brothers respect my space for the most part, sometimes they don't. And I work at the diner, which I love, but it means I can't even sneeze without everyone knowing about it." Taylor blew out a breath and was about to say that he knew he sounded whiny and ungrateful, because he did have a job and a place to live, and a family that loved him. That was more than a lot of people had. People like Mickey, whom Taylor couldn't stop worrying about.

"That sounds hard." Damon gave Taylor's hand a squeeze.

At first, Taylor waited for Damon to continue, to elaborate on that and tell him that he had it good even if it was hard sometimes and that he should be grateful. But those words never came. Damon drove, quietly waiting for Taylor to speak again, to lay more of his troubles down at Damon's feet.

The calm support and the attentive way Damon listened to him made everything better somehow. It didn't change a single thing except that Taylor felt validated. And that made the avalanche easier to breathe under, like Damon had created a safe space and offered him shelter until he was ready to dig himself out.

He didn't want to rescue Taylor, seemingly understanding that Taylor was capable of doing that for himself. He'd needed someone to stand with while he took a breath.

He could use that distraction now, though. Damon waited in silence, content to drive with the music turned down.

"I was thinking that Nash's place could use a plant or two. What do you think?" Taylor looked at Damon, who pulled his focus away from the road long enough to glance at him and offer him one of his heart-melting smiles.

"I think that's a great idea. And I happen to know that he's at the gym with your brother, and I happen to have keys to his place if you need an accomplice."

"I was counting on that." Taylor beamed at him. "We can swing by my place, and I'll run in and grab them quick. I already know what ones I'm going to bring."

Usually when Taylor was sneaking plants around and leaving them in the care of unsuspecting people, he had to be more clever and crafty to pull it off. Sure, sometimes it was easier than others, like the tree he'd brought to the diner or the plants that he'd migrated upstairs to his dad's half of the house, but getting the plants into Nash's apartment was almost too easy.

Taylor set the orange tree up on the side table near the balcony. Light from the other side of the building would have been better for it, but it would do fine in its current location. He'd also brought over an avocado that he'd started. The seed had cracked open and a shoot had started about a month ago. He set that one on the counter in the kitchen, admiring how it looked at home in Nash's apartment.

"Is it strange to be here without him?" Taylor asked Damon when he came up behind him and tugged Taylor into his arms. Lips brushed against the back of Taylor's neck and Damon inhaled. "Did you just sniff me?"

"Mmhm," Damon confirmed. "You smell sensational. Kind of sweet." Damon's lips caressed the spot under Taylor's ear that sent a cascade of shivers down his spine. "I could eat you."

"That didn't answer my question." Taylor gripped the counter to steady his suddenly wobbly legs. Every time Damon or Nash kissed him, touched him, sometimes even looked at him, it was like Taylor's world titled on its axis.

"It's not strange. And Nash won't mind. I promise."

Damon continued to kiss Taylor's neck. His hands rested on Taylor's hips, holding him in place. As if Taylor was going to go anywhere on his unsteady legs. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Taylor gasped when Damon's teeth scraped across his earlobe. Hot breath washed over him and he trembled, then leaned back into Damon. He let Damon wind his arms around him and hold him close as he continued the most delicate torture Taylor had ever experienced.

Damon had a way of touching Taylor that filled him with an intense feeling of belonging. Taylor had been with plenty of men before, so he knew what it was like to be wanted. But this was more than that. Damon kissed him like he wanted to devour him. Cherish him. Ruin and remake him. His head swam, and all his blood rushed straight to his cock.

The reasons they shouldn't do this now, here, in Nash's kitchen tried to clamber to the front of Taylor's mind, but then Damon turned him and kissed him, sealing their mouths together in a frenzy. Hot hands yanked at Taylor's shirt and rucked it up his body, exposing his bare flesh to the air.

Damon whipped Taylor's shirt off, discarding it on Nash's counter. Oh, holy fuck. What was he even doing?

"Damon," Taylor choked out, breaking the kiss. Damon didn't stop; instead, he kissed his way down Taylor's jaw. His insides turned to mush when Damon dropped more kisses down Taylor's throat.

His body warred with his mind. This was Nash's house. His kitchen. Damon's hands on his skin. His mouth, sucking and teasing, tasting. Taylor's body felt almost too good to stop. It was like he was drowning.

Damon's hands were on Taylor's face. He pulled him in for a kiss, stealing all the oxygen in the room. Taylor moaned and went boneless. Winding his arms around Damon's neck, he pressed their bodies together, leaving no space between them.

Lips brushed against the back of his neck and a second body slotted in behind him. Strong hands skimmed down Taylor's bare sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I see you started without me," Nash's deep voice rumbled, scraping across Taylor's soul.

Suddenly, Damon's mouth was on Taylor's chest, and Nash's hands were undoing his pants, fumbling with the fly as he trailed kisses across Taylor's shoulders.

"You—" Taylor inhaled sharply when Damon flicked his nipple with his tongue. "You planned this?" Taylor reached behind himself and grabbed Nash's hip, urging him to step closer.

Damon looked up at him, eyes shining with lust and mischief. "If you don't want this, we can stop."

"You fucking better not," Taylor shot back, combing his fingers through Damon's hair. How was this his life? He asked himself that as Damon ducked down, hiding his smile against Taylor's chest.

Nash's hands roamed upward and he drew Taylor against him as Damon sank to his knees. "Put your mouth on him, Damon."

Nash's hand snaked down the front of Taylor's pants, and he hummed his approval. "What are you wearing, princess?"

Taylor had slipped on a pair of white lace panties because they made him feel powerful and not just pretty, but bewitching in a way he'd never experienced. And then Nash's hand retreated and Damon leaned in, mouthing his cock through the flimsy fabric. The answer to Nash's question was obvious, but Taylor had lost the ability to speak. All he could manage was a keening, helpless, needy moan as Damon continued to tease him through his panties.

He couldn't even gather the oxygen needed to beg properly. He thrust his hips instead, chasing Damon's mouth, earning soft laughter from Nash, who stood behind him like a fucking wall.

"Isn't he pretty, Damon?"

Damon lifted his gaze and pulled back. Hands slid up his thighs and gripped his pants. "Breathtaking," Damon replied, then slowly tugged Taylor's pants down to his knees, restricting his movements.

Not that he intended to go anywhere.

Ever.