25. Taylor

CHAPTER 25

TAYLOR

It was like he was outside of his body, watching himself act like an asshole, but he could do nothing to stop it. And the worst part was that lashing out at Damon wasn't the worst part. It was that part of him felt justified. Of course, he knew that he'd been an idiot and that he owed Damon an apology.

Later. Taylor wasn't in the mood yet to make nice with anyone. He took his frustration out on the scrambled eggs and did his best not to butcher the over easy ones. The diner was unseasonably busy that morning, which was good because it meant that his dad hustled plates back and forth and didn't say much to him outside of work communication. It didn't stop the looks of concern, though, but Taylor kept his eyes on his work and didn't let himself think of that.

He appreciated the busy morning. It gave him some time to continue going over his thoughts. This wasn't the first time Colby had overstepped in the name of being the hero to someone, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But it was the first time that Taylor had been genuinely hurt by him, and he wasn't sure what to do with those feelings. Colby had always been his protector, and even when Taylor bristled at it, he'd never been on the other end of it before.

It was more hurt than anger that clawed at his insides until he was raw and aching. Taylor was a wounded animal, biting at everyone who came near. If Colby had a hero complex, it was probably partly Taylor's fault. All his life he'd looked up to his brothers. Jonah, for how smart he was. Colby, for his fierceness. It just sucked to have that very thing turned on him.

"That's the end of the breakfast rush," Taylor heard his dad say. "Why don't you take a break?"

"I'm fine." Taylor started stacking cups and plates in the trays to go through the dishwasher. And if he slammed a few in there, who cared. As long as nothing broke.

A hand touched his shoulder and Taylor paused, glancing over at his dad's kind but stern expression. "Taylor, stop. Take five."

"I'm fine."

A lie. Of course he wasn't fine. But he didn't want to admit that he was still childishly angry. It felt silly to be this pissed off about what had happened, but he couldn't let go. Part of him thought maybe he should have gone back over with Nash and Damon and had it out with Colby, but he'd still been too furious to speak and he hadn't wanted to say anything he couldn't take back.

"Put the plates down, Taylor."

Feeling defeated, he obeyed. "Fine. Five minutes." The comforting hand didn't leave Taylor's shoulder.

"Did you want to talk about it?" his dad asked.

Taylor pulled away and, despite not wanting to sit, plopped his ass down on a tall bar stool they kept in the back. Taylor used to sit on it and bug whoever was cooking at the time. The stool was originally put there by his dad to give Taylor a place to be where he wasn't in the way.

"You never could keep me out of here." Taylor let the memories make him smile as he leaned against the wall.

"You learned many colorful expressions from some of the staff."

This made Taylor smile wider. "I know it wasn't quite the lesson in vocabulary you had in mind." Taylor watched his dad lean against the counter. He had that look on his face that he got when he was about to say a bunch of stuff that he expected you to listen to.

"I should get this place cleaned before the next rush." Taylor started to move, but his dad shook his head.

"Stay right there. Take a breath. You're wound tighter than a spring."

"I'm fine," Taylor repeated through grit teeth. To his astonishment, his dad rolled his eyes. Taylor had never seen him employ such an expression before and it took him aback. "Did you roll your eyes at me?"

"You might fool other people with your bullshit, but not me. You're not fine."

"Well, I'm trying to be, but people keep asking me if I'm fine. And then it reminds me that I have something to be pissed off about and I get mad all over again." This was the only drawback of working with his dad—the fact that there was no escape. His family was everywhere, all the time, and it hadn't bothered Taylor a lot before, but now it was like a rope around his chest getting tighter and tighter.

Maddeningly enough, his dad just nodded. Like he agreed that Taylor had a reason to be pissed off. This did nothing to soften the ball of hurt that rattled around inside of him, smashing his insides to tiny, jagged pieces.

"I noticed the basement door is locked from the kitchen side. Is that the same reason you've been leaving food behind the diner every day?"

"You knew? Were you spying on me?" Taylor started to stand, but his dad's expression hardened and he pointed at the chair. Taylor obeyed, because he couldn't stand to have people mad at him. It was possible that he'd stumbled on the reason he'd been so upset about this whole thing, but then he'd also hated that he didn't have any privacy. It seemed like every time he turned around, his family was in his business. Colby, more than anyone. It was the reason he should've known better than to accuse him of screwing with people. Colby had been his biggest ally until now and when he'd carelessly thrown all those accusations at him, Taylor felt like he'd lost something.

"It's my diner, Taylor. I happen to keep an eye on what goes on around here. I wasn't spying on you."

It felt like he was, but Taylor kept that to himself. He bit his lip to keep all the asinine things he wanted to say from escaping. "An old friend resurfaced and he's sort of fallen on hard times. I'm letting him stay for a while."

"Does this old friend need anything?"

Taylor shook his head. "Just a place to crash."

"You're a good kid, Taylor. You've got a big heart."

"Well, I sort of take after my dad." Taylor was still irritated about feeling like a bug under a microscope, but he was too weary to hold on to any animosity toward his dad. It was his diner, after all. Taylor was only surprised that his dad hadn't said anything before now.

"I hear your old man is a pretty forgiving guy. I think he wouldn't hold it against someone for too long if they acted like an ass and hurt my—his feelings."

This time Taylor did get up from his stool, and his dad didn't stop him. His emotions were wrung out and tired from all the recent upheaval. The fight hadn't gone out of him completely, but he definitely felt like he'd been ten rounds.

"Well, maybe my dad is a better person than I am, because I'm still pissed off at Colby."

Taylor wanted to curl up and go to sleep. But not at home. He wanted to be with Nash and Damon the way he was last night. He was glad that Damon had reached out earlier and that Taylor had taken the opportunity to apologize to him.

Damon hadn't done anything wrong, and Taylor had treated him like he was the enemy. But he didn't think Damon would hold it against him.

Damon had only been trying to help.

Which was also what Colby was always trying to do.

Taylor's shoulders slumped and he stopped in the middle of the kitchen. He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush, some of his lingering anger going with it. "I'm still pissed at him, but I think I'll be able to get over it. If that's what you were wondering."

On his way past him and back to the front of the diner, Taylor's dad patted him on the back.

"Proud of you, Taylor," his dad said before getting out of Taylor's kitchen and leaving him to his own devices.

Sure, Taylor was still mad about Colby's hurtful accusations, but some of the sting had faded. The thing that still bothered him was the lack of privacy in his life, and the feeling continued to snowball throughout the day. Every minute he wasn't too busy to think, it was there nagging at him. Chipping away at the last of his patience.

He practically flew through the door to his place after work. Mickey was curled up on the couch, looking unwell, but a little better than the day before.

"Hey, sorry I took off last night." Taylor toed out of his shoes. "I'm probably going to crash at my boyfriend's place again tonight."

"I should go." Mickey started to get up, but Taylor crossed the room and gently pushed him back onto the couch.

"You should stay. You'd be doing me a favor. See, if you leave, I'm going to spend so much time looking for you. Time that I could spend with my boyfriends. So, I tell you what—I'm going to shower and get changed and pack a bag. Then I'm going to leave and you're going to stay put. There's plenty of food. Help yourself to anything you want."

Taylor turned to go down the hall to his room, but a quiet voice stopped him.

"Why?"

He turned and looked at Mickey, who was too thin, too sick, too forgotten about to last much longer out there. "Because you need help. Because I can. Because I'd rather be anywhere but here, and someone needs to talk to my plants. Take your pick."

"You talk to your plants?"

"Sometimes. They're shit at conversation, but they're good listeners." Taylor left Mickey to think about what he'd said. In his room, he grabbed a bag and shoved some clothes in it. Some general staples. On a whim, he added some of his nicer things, and a few pairs of obscenely adorable panties that he may or may not work up the courage to wear.

He showered in record time and styled his hair, taking his gel and his toiletries with him. After shoving his meager selection of cosmetics in his bag, he zipped it up. He didn't know how many days he'd stay away. Maybe one. Maybe a week. Maybe he'd find a place to rent and move out. The future was both bright and uncertain.

The uncertainty bothered him. He'd always known what he wanted. To stay at home and work in the diner. He still wanted to work in the diner, but living at home exhausted Taylor's patience. A sliver of privacy from his family would be nice.

Before he left, Taylor grabbed his old iPad out of his nightstand and unplugged the charger from the wall. He carried it out to the living room and set it on the coffee table.

"It's not a gift, it's a loan. You can use it to contact anyone you might need to, or you can play solitaire on it. Doesn't matter."

"Don't you need it?"

Taylor patted his front pocket. "I have my phone." Taylor grabbed the tablet and was surprised when it still had enough juice to start up. "I'm putting my cell number and the number to the diner in the notes app. Then you can contact me if you need to."

"This is really nice of you." Mickey dissolved into another coughing fit.

"Are you going to be okay alone?" Taylor asked when he was done.

Mickey nodded. "I'll be fine." He coughed again, but managed to get it under control faster. "Talking is hard."

"Oh, gotcha. I'll leave so you can rest some more. Tell me if you get worse or if you need anything, okay?"

Mickey nodded and curled up on his side again, covering himself in a blanket. "Thanks, Taylor." He was practically asleep by the time Taylor responded.

"You're welcome, Mickey." Taylor left for Nash's house soon after. The undercurrent of anger and hurt was still there, but it was tolerable now. Mostly Taylor was just tired and a bit sad, and all he wanted was to cuddle on the couch with his men. Naked or otherwise. He wasn't picky.