22. Taylor

CHAPTER 22

TAYLOR

Everything was going great, so Taylor should have expected it to all fall apart. But he didn't. He'd trusted the wave of recent good fortune and had ridden it like a lovestruck idiot and then it all came smashing into him at once.

He still hadn't told his family about his relationship with Nash and Damon. But they still hadn't told his family about their relationship. It was going to make for an interesting conversation, whenever they decided to have it. Taylor wasn't overly concerned about that. Sure, in a few hours everyone would be there for fire night and he'd have to pretend to not be hopelessly head over heels for them. But he could pull it off. No big deal.

The thing Taylor was most concerned about was Mickey. He'd tried to find him a few times and came up empty. He'd started leaving notes in the meals he left for him, hoping that Mickey would show up and at least let Taylor know he was okay. Often, when he was cooking, his mind wandered and he wondered what had happened to him. Taylor had asked Colby, but he'd graduated before Mickey and had no idea what happened either.

With no one to ask, Taylor conjured up all kinds of scenarios about why Mickey had disappeared and none of them were happy. Clearly. Because he was obviously unhoused and hungry, and too proud to accept much help from Taylor. It irked him that Mickey was avoiding him like that, so when his shift ended, Taylor didn't bother going home to shower or change. He set the meal where he usually put it and then drove away.

Instead of going home, Taylor circled the block, parked his car in the lot of a nearby hotel and walked to where he could keep an eye on the back of the diner without being seen. Hopefully.

And then he waited. He crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands into his armpits to keep them warm. He'd stand there all night if he had to, but luck was on his side and Mickey appeared a few minutes later. Even from a distance, Taylor could see he was in bad shape. He covered his mouth a few times, his slow steps halting as he coughed.

Taylor set out after him, waiting until he was back behind the diner to call out to him. Mickey was crouched down, hacking and coughing, a thick, wet sound. He grabbed the bag of food and stood, flinching when he saw Taylor.

"I've been worried about you."

"I'm fi—" Mickey couldn't even speak he coughed so hard.

"Oh yeah, you're totally fine. Right as rain. Not a problem in the world. How about you stop hiding from me and let me help you?"

Mickey leaned against the side of the building while he struggled to get his breath. "Why?"

"Because you need it? Because you're sick? Because I want to? Because it's the right thing to do? Take your pick."

"What do you want?" Mickey looked at him with narrow, sunken eyes. His face was a sickly grey, his lips chapped and split.

"I want you to not die out in the cold."

"Nothing else?" Mickey looked skeptical, like he'd been told that before, but people had lied to him.

"Dude, I've got a job and a place to live. Heat, light, food, and two boyfriends. The only thing I want from you is a little cooperation." Taylor pulled his car keys out of his pocket and made a motion with his head over to the hotel he'd parked at. "I'm right over there. Get in my car, eat your food. I'll whip by the pharmacy and get you some stuff for your cough and you can crash on my couch for a while, okay? We're having people over tonight, and there's going to be a bonfire and some guitar, but it won't keep you awake. We're not a rowdy bunch."

Mickey looked around like he wanted to find a way to say no. A way to escape Taylor, but after a deep breath, he pushed away from the wall. "You're pretty persistent."

"Thanks." Taylor slung his arm around Mickey's waist, not caring that he clearly had been sleeping rough, without access to running water. Mickey needed a fucking hug, or ten, and Taylor needed to hug him. Plus, he looked like he might drop dead before Taylor got him to the car.

When they got there, Mickey leaned against the passenger side while Taylor unlocked the door. He practically fell into the seat, succumbing to another coughing fit. Taylor shut the door and hurried to the other side. Once the car was started, he turned the heat up full blast and pointed all the vents at Mickey.

He left it running when he went into the pharmacy. Thankfully, Damon was working and was already aware of Mickey, so with a quick explanation of how he found him and his symptoms, Damon helped him choose a couple of medications.

Taylor spent the rest of the evening bossing Mickey around. He made him have a long, hot soak in the bath. Mickey shyly asked if Taylor had more of that soup he'd made last time, so while Mickey soaked, Taylor threw together another pot of chicken soup.

Taylor loaned him the same clothes he'd let him wear last time, and again let him use the washing machine. The only difference was his sleeping location.

"You should take my bed," Taylor told him. "I'm probably going to sneak away and crash with one of my boyfriends tonight. I changed the sheets when you were in the bath. It's way more comfortable than the couch."

One side of Mickey's mouth kicked up into an almost smile. "I've been sleeping on cardboard in alleys. The couch is fine."

"Take the bed, Mickey. I won't be here to use it." Taylor turned on his heel and retreated back to the bathroom to apply eyeliner and lip gloss. Everyone would be arriving soon and he didn't have time to do much more.

When he came back out to the living room, Mickey was curled up on the couch, his eyes shut and his lips were parted. Clearly the medication had kicked in. Taylor covered him up and left him a note, demanding that he still be there when Taylor returned. He told him to help himself to anything he needed. Then Taylor went up the stairs to his dad's half the house and threw the lock behind him. It wasn't unusual for one or the other to lock it; they each had a key in case of emergency. Taylor didn't want Mickey to randomly wander up the stairs. Not that he would in his current state.

"Hiding something?" Colby asked, leaning against the entry to the kitchen. His arms were crossed over his chest and he glared at Taylor.

Taylor scoffed and went to the fridge to see what their dad planned on cooking that night.

"I expected better from you," Colby whispered, his voice hard and angry.

Taylor stood up. "Excuse me?"

"I know you've been sneaking around with Damon. And as if that isn't bad enough, because he's with Nash, I saw you get in the car outside of a fucking hotel today. With a guy who clearly wasn't Damon."

Colby's accusation burned. It was a spear right through his heart. This was why Taylor thought of moving out. He lived and worked and spent so much time with his family that sometimes it felt like they were on top of him. Crushing him. The lack of privacy was clearly an issue, too.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Taylor tried to breeze past him, but Colby stepped into his way. He got in Taylor's face, looking angry and disappointed, and it was that look that stung more than the anger.

"I've spent my whole life looking out for you. Protecting you. And you turn around and repay me like this? By fucking over my best friend?"

"Oh, fuck you," Taylor snapped. He balled his hands into fists, not to use them, but to hold on to Nash and Damon's secret. "I never asked for your protection, and I certainly never asked for you to fucking spy on me. Fuck you for always having your nose in my business. Fuck you for thinking that I'd do anything to hurt anyone, and fuck you for thinking you know best for everyone."

Taylor shoved past him and grabbed a coat off the hook, not caring whose it was. His keys were in his pocket and he'd been wearing his shoes in the expectation of going outside and sitting around the fire, but now they facilitated a speedy getaway and he was out the front door and into his car while Colby shouted demands at him. Telling him to wait, to get back, to stop where he was. That they weren't finished.

Taylor left before he said anything he regretted. A block or two away, he pulled over and grabbed his cellphone out of his pocket, texting their dad that he had something come up and that he wasn't going to be home, but not to worry, he was fine. He also let him know that he had a friend crashing on his couch and to, under no circumstances, let Colby or Jonah into his apartment.

After that, a series of angry texts came through from Colby and he turned his phone off. He was too angry to cry, or he might have wept. He hated it when people were mad at him. He always had. What made it worse was that Colby thought so little of him that he'd jump to such conclusions. He didn't bother to ask what was going on or ask whether Taylor needed to talk. Or whether Taylor knew about Damon and Nash. Instead, he leaped to the defense of his best friend and ran over Taylor to do it.

Without knowing where he was going, he ended up at Nash's place. His two boyfriends were going to carpool over to his place and, for some reason, the three of them usually ended up at Nash's place instead of Damon's.

Taylor sat in the parking lot and stared at the building, talking himself into getting up and going to his men for comfort. He'd have to explain why he wasn't going to be at fire night. He'd have to tell them that Colby knew about them. Fuck. He'd have to tell them everything.

As though he willed them into existence, he saw them leave the building. Before he could even get his seat belt undone, Damon had spotted Taylor's car and tugged at Nash, pointing over to where Taylor sat.

Their concern grew as they approached and Taylor fumbled with his seatbelt, practically throwing himself at them when Nash tugged the door open.

"I'm sorry. I don't—he knows. Colby knows. But he only knows that you two are a thing, and he thinks that me and Damon are fucking around behind your back, and that I'm fucking around behind Damon's back because he saw me at a hotel with Mickey. Not at a hotel, just the parking lot."

"Slow down," Nash said, pulling Taylor into an embrace. He kissed Taylor's cheek and held him tight. Damon stroked his hand up and down Taylor's back.

"Damon said you found Mickey. Is he okay?"

"Taylor stopped at the pharmacy for some medication for his cough," Damon supplied.

Of all the things Nash latched onto, it was that he'd found Mickey. He seemed more concerned about that than about Colby's accusations.

"He's fine." Taylor struggled to get away, but Nash held him tighter.

"Good, but your brother might not be. If he thought anything was going on, he should have come to me about it."

Taylor pulled away and took a shuddering breath. "I don't want to go home."

Damon pulled his keys out of his pocket and pressed them into Taylor's hand. "You go on up. Take a bath and relax. Nash has that weird beer you two like. There're takeout menus in the drawer under the microwave. Order yourself some dinner, and we'll be back soon, okay?" Damon gripped Taylor's chin and tugged him into a quick kiss. Then he turned to Nash. "Let's go."

"Right behind you." Nash kissed Taylor. "Are you going to be okay here alone?"

Taylor nodded.

"Okay, we won't be long," Nash promised with another kiss.