13

Taylor walked up to the cafe, her folded uniform tucked underneath her arm. She’d left in such a huff the day before that she’d forgotten to drop it off.

Or say goodbye.

It hurt just thinking about it. The Brew House had become her home; a welcome respite from the more stressful parts of her life. She didn’t want to go but she had little choice in the matter now.

As she stepped inside, she was surprised by the flurry of movement in the cafe. Carson was throwing on his coat, while Stacey and Isabel stood at the bar looking miserable. George was on the phone, nodding and speaking quietly to whoever was on the other line.

Something was clearly wrong.

Taylor’s eyes flew around the room, her pulse picking up speed when she realized that Christian wasn’t there.

Her uniform fell to the ground as she ran to Carson, tugging at his sleeve. “What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice filling with panic. “Where’s Christian?”

He looked down at her, his eyes grave. “He’s at the hospital.”

Her heart stopped. “No,” she whispered. “What happened? Is he okay?” 

Carson reached out and squeezed her arm. “He’s fine, Taylor. It’s his grandmother. She had another heart attack.”        

She shut her eyes tight and exhaled, relieved beyond words that Christian was fine. Then she processed the rest. Christian’s grandmother had suffered another heart attack. Her eyes flew open.

“Look, I gotta go. I’m headed to the hospital,” Carson said, already moving towards the door.

“Take me with you,” she said, grabbing his arm to stop him. “Please.”

He looked back at her, catching the expression on her face, and nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

...

Christian sat hunched over in the hall in the front of his grandmother’s room. His parents were back at the house, packing some of her things, while he stayed back and waited for news.

He hadn’t been around the first time she’d collapsed, he’d been too busy gallivanting through Europe, and the guilt was killing him now. Two heart attacks. Two more than she should have had to experience in her lifetime.

Maybe if he’d been around she wouldn’t have had to push herself so hard, wouldn’t have to work so much. Why hadn’t he come home sooner?

He leaned back in his seat and exhaled softly.

Alana rubbed his shoulder. He looked over and gave her a lopsided smile.

“It’ll be okay,” she said gently. “I know it will.”

He nodded and looked away. The words provided little comfort to his worried mind. When someone his grandmother’s age suffered two heart attacks in such a short span of time, it was hard to believe that everything would be fine.

“I didn’t know Taylor was coming,” Alana said from beside him.

His head swung around to see Carson and Taylor walking down the hallway towards them and something inside him softened at the sight of Taylor’s worried face.

He stood up as Carson stepped in front of him. “How’s she doing?” Carson asked, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

He tossed up a shoulder. “The doctors say she’s lucky. It was minor compared to the last one but she’ll still need surgery.”

“Sorry, man.”

He nodded. “Thanks for coming.” He glanced over at Taylor who was standing back watching them. “Both of you,” he said and Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise.

Carson leaned down and whispered something to Alana and she jumped up from her seat. “How about I get us some coffee? Carson, come with!”

“Subtle,” Carson muttered as she took his arm and dragged him down the hall.

Christian watched them go before looking back at Taylor, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. He just stood there, awkwardly staring at a point just above his shoulder, as if he didn’t know what to do or say.

And it was Christian’s fault.

He’d made things like this. Made it uncomfortable between them over something that now, with his sick grandmother lying in a hospital bed, seemed so trivial.

He just wanted things back the way they were.

“Taylor Mooreland at a loss for words,” he said as he sat back down. “This is a first.”

He heard Taylor exhale before he stepped forward, his boots thudding heavily against the hospital floor. Christian saw him hesitate before he sat one seat over, leaving an empty chair between them.

“You look terrible,” Taylor said, surprising a laugh out of him.

“Thank you,” he said drily, glancing over at him.

“No!” Taylor groaned. “That’s not what I meant. Sorry – crap!” He shook his head and stood up. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. I should probably go.”

“Taylor,” Christian said stopping him. Taylor turned slightly towards him.

“After last night, getting the call about her...” He paused, trying to find the words. “Sometimes things happen that give you perspective. I made a mistake with you. I said some things I regret—,”

“Me too,” Taylor interrupted, slumping into the seat next to him. “I’m sorry about everything. I don’t want to fight with you. I just want us to be good again.”

The heaviness that had been weighing down his heart all week suddenly eased from his chest.

“I’m good if you’re good,” he said.

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

Christian caught Taylor’s eyes and suddenly they were laughing.

He paused, watching the way Taylor’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, the light almost sweet sound of that laugh hitting him straight in the heart. It felt good to hear that laugh again. It felt like it had been too long since he’d last heard it.

“Now that we’ve established that we’re both good,” Taylor said after their laughter had died down, “I just want to say again that I’m really sorry about your grandma.”

“I appreciate that,” he said leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes, weariness taking over once more.

“Have you been here all day?”

“All night,” he corrected, opening his eyes. “I figure I owe it to her to be here. When she got sick the first time, I wasn’t around. I came home as she was recovering.  I promised myself that I’d do everything in my power to make sure she didn’t end up back here. And here she is again.” He shook his head. “I failed her.”

“You didn’t!”

Christian glanced over at Taylor, taken aback by the fierceness in his voice.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve done more—,”

“Shut up. How much more could you have done? This is your problem, Laurent,” Taylor said with exasperation. “You have this God complex. Some things are just beyond our control and this is one of them. I know you feel bad that you weren’t around the first time but you’re here now. Feeling guilty isn’t going to help her recover. What she needs is your strength and your love. That’s how she’ll get better. Okay?”

Christian started at Taylor, feeling like a kindergartener being admonished by his teacher.  “I can always count on you to hit me with the truth when I need it most, huh, Mooreland?” he said with a soft smile.

Something dark flashed in Taylor’s eyes but just as quickly it was gone and Christian wondered if he’d just imagined it.

“Well somebody’s gotta do it,” Taylor quipped.

“Nobody’s gotta do it,” Christian shot back.

“That’s where you’re wrong. If I don’t put you in your place every once in a while your ego will be out of control.”

He tilted his head to look at Taylor searchingly. “You think I have a God complex?”

“I think you like to sweep into people’s lives and try to fix everything,” he said quietly.

Christian opened his mouth to disagree. He had very little interest in fixing other people’s lives. He never had. Other than Carson, Alana, his family, the only other person that he’d ever stuck his neck out for was ...  He glanced over and met Taylor’s eyes.

“I only help people who matter to me,” he said finally. He looked away so quickly that he missed the way Taylor’s eyes widened at his words.

Taylor didn’t respond and a tentative silence stretched between them as if they were both unsure of what to say next. Then Christian’s stomach rumbled.

Taylor chuckled beside him and he shot him a sheepish look.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Taylor asked.

He shrugged. “Last night. I think. I don’t know.”

Taylor shook his head and stood up. “We should fix that.”

He shook his head. “I can’t leave—,”

“Your grandma would want you to take care of yourself. Carson and Alana can wait here while you get something to eat.”

He hesitated but Taylor grabbed his arm, pulling him to stand. “I won’t take no for answer,” he said.

Christian looked down into his deep brown eyes and couldn’t find the words to say no. “Alright.”

Taylor smiled. “Let’s go.”

...

“When you said you were treating me to a meal, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Christian said drily, putting mustard on his Italian sausage.

“Shut up and eat,” Taylor said as she paid for their hot dogs and fries.

It was an unexpectedly warm spring day and they took their hotdogs to the park down the street. Sitting down on a bench, they munched contentedly on their food and watched a man throw a Frisbee around to his dog.

It was nice sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder, the sun setting over the trees, the sky painted red and orange. Taylor almost wished they could stay like this forever. Or at least long enough to get those little frown lines between Christian’s brows to disappear.

She knew he wanted to be there for his grandmother but he needed a break from the 24/7 anxiety and she wanted to give him that.

After quickly demolishing his fries and half of Taylor’s, Christian slid back on the bench and closed his eyes. His hair fluttered in the breeze and she bit her lip. She wanted to reach out and touch him, run her hands through his hair, outline that perfectly straight nose with her fingers, but only disaster lay that way.

Not if you tell him.

Things were better than they’d been between them in weeks but she still hesitated. With his grandmother collapsing, Christian couldn’t handle any more surprises. She would tell him. Soon. Just not today.

He opened his eyes, catching her staring at him. They both looked away quickly.

Ignoring the awkward moment, she pointed to a batting cage across the park. “Dessert’s on whoever can hit the most balls.”

Christian jumped to his feet. “You’re on.”

It didn’t take long for Taylor to realize that she was going to lose the bet. Christian moved with the ease of an athlete. He’d rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up at the elbows and Taylor’s breath hitched at the sight of the thin fabric stretched tautly over his back.

When he was done, he looked back at her with an arrogant grin. “Let’s see what you got,” he said, passing the bat to her.

It probably wasn't the best time to tell him that the last time she’d played baseball was in the fifth grade.

She made a show out of it, lifting the bat over her head and stretching her body upwards, swinging the bat a few times, before signaling for him to start the machine.

The ball came whizzing by and she delayed a second too long and whiffed on it.

A snort came from behind her but she ignored it, willing herself to hit the next ball. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be and the next four attempts were just as pathetic as the first.

“You suck,” Christian said plainly, stating the obvious.

She flipped her middle finger at him.

“I knew I was going to win,” he said matter-of-factly, stopping the machine. “I just didn’t think it would be a total slaughter.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“You will be if you keep hitting like that.” He came around to stand in front of her. “Spread your legs,” he said and Taylor blinked at the wording. She looked straight at him but he was too busy taking the bat from her hands to notice. 

“Hold the bat like this,” he said demonstrating the position. She mimicked him but he shook his head. “No.” He reached for her arm, his hand a gentle slide as he lifted it into position. “Like this.”

She nodded her throat suddenly dry. He came up behind her. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her ear and it sent a tingle down her spine.

He eased her knee forward with his knee. “Better,” he said softly. She could barely breathe with him standing so close, with his voice in her ear. And it took everything in her power not to sway back and lean into him.

Abruptly he stepped back. “Good,” he said gruffly, handing the bat back to her. “When the next ball comes out, keep your eye on it. Track it as it’s coming.”

She took a deep breath, hoping the fresh air would clear her head, and nodded.

He moved back to the machine. “Let’s try this again but this time try not to hit like my mom.”

Taylor pulled a face but turned away to hide a smile. Christian was teasing her again and it made her feel like things were finally back to normal. And she realized that it was enough for her. Despite her attraction to him, being like this, being his friend, was enough. As long as she could be in his life, she didn’t need anything else.

As a man? A voice whispered in her head but she ignored it. There would be time to think about that later. But not now. Not when things were back on track.

The ball came towards her and she followed it carefully with her eyes. Holding the bat the way Christian had told her, she swung with great aplomb and missed quite spectacularly.

“Holy shit, man. You suck,” Christian said from behind her and this time she laughed aloud.

“Come back to work,” he said suddenly.

Her head swung to look at him.

“I want you to come back,” he said with deceptive casualness.

“I want a raise,” she said.

“Not on your life.”

Her mouth stretched into a broad grin. Everything was finally falling back into place.

...

Taylor had somehow talked him into going for a drive. He hadn’t wanted to at first, but when he’d checked back in at the hospital, his parents had been waiting for him and told him to go home for the night.

Taylor wouldn’t let him. “Come on, Laurent. The night is still young.”

There were many reasons why he should have just called it a night but the hopeful look in Taylor’s eyes had been too hard to dismiss. Why make things awkward between them when things were finally good again?

And so they drove, top down, wind on their faces. Christian inhaled and let out a contended sigh. Taylor was right. It was too nice of a night to be indoors.

They passed through the Garden, one of the trendier neighbourhoods in the center of town. The spectacle of music, and people filled their ears and eyes. Then through the west side where the river curved long and wide, leaving the crowds behind them.

They ended up there, walking down a long stretch of beach, no bright lights, or people to fill the quiet – the spring night still chilly enough to keep away the crowds.

Christian glanced at Taylor, who’d stopped to skip rocks across the water, and was struck by the grace of his movements.

“How’s your mom?” he asked, trying to take his mind off the weird tension wrapping itself around his body.

Taylor turned the pebbles in his hand. It was dark but Christian could see the way his face lit up at the subject. He knew the answer before Taylor recounted what had happened with his mother.

“Things are really good,” he said with a smile. “How ‘bout you? Are things better with your dad?”

Christian shrugged and started walking slowly up the beach. “We’re at a ceasefire,” he said as Taylor stepped up beside him. “With the cafe stabilizing and my grandmother being sick, he has no choice to be lay off for a while.”

“That’s better than nothing I guess.”

“It’s preferable to the usual, believe me,” he said.

They walked in silence for a while. The sound of the water, the rustling of trees, created a sense of intimacy that Christian couldn’t shake.

“What are you going to do after all this?” Taylor asked.

“With what? The cafe?”

Taylor nodded. “Do you still want to go into the family business?”

“I know it’s what my grandmother wants.”

Taylor glanced at him. “But what do you want?”

His eyes met Taylor’s. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” he said, no longer sure if he was just talking about the company. “I’ll figure it out when the three months are up.”

Taylor rubbed the back of his neck, nodding as he looked away, and for the first time Christian noticed that his hair had grown. It softened Taylor’s face, the way it curled slightly, and the moonlight did the rest, making the planes of his face look delicate almost... Christian stared at his profile arrested, almost like a woman’s face.

He could fill the tension in his neck now, his pulse starting to hammer. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t. They’d stopped walking, Taylor was staring out unseeingly into the watery distance ahead, and it took every ounce of will he had not to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw.

Taylor looked over at him, catching him staring. “Something on my face?” he asked, lifting a tentative hand to his jaw.

“What are we?” Christian blurted out, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

A look of apprehension entered Taylor’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head and began to walk forward again.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Taylor said after a moment.

He turned his head to see Taylor still standing in the same place, staring at him. “Are we friends? Or is this just pity?”

Christian suddenly remembered the words he’d shouted in anger. “If you weren’t so damn pathetic in the first place, I wouldn’t have bothered taking you in.”

“That stuff about pitying you or not owing you anything ... I was being a dick. That’s not how I feel.”

“How do you? Feel that is,” Taylor asked softly, slowly moving towards him, their eyes locked.

It was the last question he wanted to answer. He ran a hand through his hair, his body buzzing in a way that both agitated him and made him feel alive.

“What are you my shrink?” he asked sarcastically, trying to get things back on normal ground.

It seemed to work. Taylor stared at him for a moment and then grinned. “No thanks. Being your friend is hard enough with all that extra baggage.”

Christian rolled his eyes mockingly relieved to get things back on track. He punched Taylor lightly on the arm amazed as always by how small it felt.

“I really need to take you to the gym. Your arms are pitiful, man.”

“Yet I can still take you down.” Before Christian could react, Taylor swept his leg beneath him and he went tumbling backwards.

Christian growled about to get him back but Taylor flopped down beside him with a laugh.

“I’m glad we’re friends again,” he said with a smile, seemingly unashamed that the words made him sound like a five year old. He lay back on the sand, looked over at him, and patted the sand beside him.

Christian hesitated for a moment before easing back on the sand.

They stayed like that for a while, their eyes heavenward, the sound of the water in their ears. It was soothing and Christian wasn’t surprised when he looked over and saw that Taylor had fallen asleep.

He propped up on his elbow and stared at Taylor’s face, a face he was growing increasingly fond of by the day. With a will of their own, his eyes drifted to Taylor’s mouth. A mouth that had always looked incongruous on a boy’s face but now seemed just right.

He closed his eyes briefly at the sight. He was in trouble, he knew that clearly, and yet ... He opened his eyes and continued to look his fill. Taylor was starting to look like a woman to him, even dressed as he was in a light jacket, long checkered shirt, and jeans. Was it a figment of his imagination or was this a product of this thing, this feeling, this whatever he was developing for his friend?

“What am I going to do about you?” he asked softly and as if hearing him in his sleep, Taylor turned, rolling his body away from him.

Why did he feel like he couldn’t bear the distance?

He reached out before he even realized what he was doing. His hand skimmed lightly over Taylor’s hair, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the feel of it, by how different it was to his own. He moved closer, a mere sliver between his chest and Taylor’s back, and got a whiff of something soft and gentle, something that was purely Taylor.

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as a fresh bolt of desire surged through him. He wanted to taste it, that scent. Put his mouth on that sweet smelling skin to see if it tasted as good as it smelled.

He pulled away with a soft groan and slumped back down against the sand, trying to get a hold of himself.

Taylor twitched and turned again, facing him now, arm outstretched. He glanced at it, the desire to hold that hand overpowering. Just once, something whispered inside him and he didn’t have the strength to deny it.

He slid his palm over Taylor’s, his stomach clenching as finger met finger in a soft caress. Desperation and need coursed through him, haunted him, but he didn’t let go. Slowly, agonizingly, he slid his fingers between Taylor’s and his breath caught when it curled into his.

He stayed like that for a while, watching Taylor sleep, their hands clasped in the space between their bodies. The tenderness of it destroyed him. But he didn’t let go of that hand. He didn’t let go.

...

Taylor kept one eye on the door as she waited for Christian to show up to work the next day. She wanted to ask him about his grandmother, see if he wanted to hang out after work, just look at his face really.

The thought of him sent and excited quiver through her body. After spending all night at the beach with him, she felt even closer to him than before. 

She was joking around with Harry when he entered the cafe, his face blank and drawn. He noticed her instantly and something flashed in his eyes when he looked at Harry's hand casually draped around her shoulder.

Instantly she wanted to shake it off but she suppressed the feeling. Instead she casually moved away to pour a cup of coffee. She eased around the corner with a smile. “Morning!” she said, raising the cup to him.

Ignoring the mug, he gave her a brisk nod and moved around her to greet Carson.

“Did you get home late last night?” she asked, following him to the counter, worried by the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“No,” he said, abruptly turning away to head upstairs.

Taylor watched him uncertainly, hoping his attitude was just temporary. Maybe he was tired or worried about his grandmother and he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

For the next hour she worked, watching him move around the cafe as he often did. But something was wrong. There was brittleness to his smile, an artificialness to his joking manner, but worst of all he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

He went up to his office and she followed him, not caring that it wasn’t her break. She needed to know what had happened between last night and today that had made him re-erect the wall between them.

“What is it?” he asked when he saw her behind him.

“Are we good?” she asked without preamble.

Christian looked weary, tired lines around his eyes. “Jesus, Mooreland. Is this going to be a weekly thing?

Taylor swallowed. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. He looked so tired that she wondered if she’d made a mistake approaching him about this.

He re-opened his eyes and looked straight at her, his blue eyes darker than usual. “Let’s stop.”

She frowned at him not knowing what he meant. “Stop...”

“This.” He motioned to the two of them. “I’ll forgive the debt. You don’t have to come back to work.”

That shocked her into silence. Last night everything had been perfect. They’d been laughing, talking again. Now he wanted her gone?

“What happened? Things were good yester—,”

“How far did you think this could go?” he demanded. “Or...” He looked at her sharply. “Did you think if you hung around long enough, I’d fall for you?” He rounded his desk and grabbed her arm. “Did you think that a walk on the beach was all it would take?”

“You can’t keep doing this,” she said in frustration. “You can’t keep jerking me around every time you change your mind.”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” He dragged her closer, still holding her arm. “Do you think I want to feel this way?”

Her eyes widened at the declaration. It was like the night before, when he’d told her that he only helped people who mattered to him. She mattered to him.

And he wanted her to go.

She looked up at him, ready to fight, but the look on his face took her breath away. There was anger there but something even darker. Something completely wild.

Her eyes fell unconsciously to his mouth and it tightened underneath her gaze.

“I want you out.”

Her eyes veered back to his, snagging and holding them, spellbound. They stared at each other, caught by some invisible line, his hand reaching to cup the back of her neck.

“Go.”

She vaguely heard his words but didn’t process them. She was too overwhelmed by the hand at the back of her neck, large and warm. Her eyes fluttered closed at the soft caress of his fingers against her neck and she wondered vaguely if he knew what he was doing.

She slid a tongue over suddenly dry lips and heard him make a guttural sound in the back of his throat. Her eyes flew open, her breath hitching as she caught him staring intensely at her mouth.

“Don’t,” he said in a dark voice, pulling her towards him by the nape of her neck. “Don’t.”

He was so close, too close. It was doing things to her. Making her want things she shouldn’t. She tried to stumble back out of self-preservation but he moved his other arm around her waist and held her still.

She looked up at him, whispered, “What are you—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish because suddenly his lips were there, hot and searing.

The shock of it almost incapacitated her, almost brought her to her knees. Then all she could do was feel his mouth, that beautiful mouth sliding caressingly against her own.

It was devastating, the hot, slow glide of his lips. It made her knees wobble, made her grip his shirt like a life preserver, bunching it tightly into her fist. She dragged it upwards, her hand accidentally coming into contact with the smooth heat of his skin and he groaned, low and deep. A trill of satisfaction shot through her at the sound. Yes. Something inside her whispered. This.

He slanted his mouth over hers, took her lips like he owned them, tasted her until she was quivering. The desire to have him, to sink into him, was overwhelming. He nudged her backwards until her legs hit the back of his desk, pressed his body into hers. It was the most delicious thing that she'd ever experienced in her life.

“Oh my God!”

Somewhere in the periphery of her desire, she heard the loud shriek in the distance.

...

Christian blinked a few times, tried to pull himself out of his haze, to dampen the throbbing need that still pulsated through him.

Taylor stumbled back, his chest rising harshly as he struggled to regain his breath and Christian felt a sick sort of satisfaction at the sight of him trying to regain control.

He was fucked. So fucked.

“You—you guys...”

He turned his head to look at Isabel, who was standing with her hand pressed against her heart, staring at them with shocked eyes. “Oh ... my ... god...” She took a step back and then another until she was out the door and out of the room.

Everyone would know what had happened in minutes.

“We should stop her!” Taylor made to move past him, but Christian grabbed his arm before he could leave the room.

“We’re not done here.”

“But Isabel—”

“Fuck Isabel!”

They stared at each other, both surprised at his outburst. He turned away to walk to the door and close it. He’d been running away from this moment for months, this inevitable moment, and he was tired of it.

“You were right,” he said breaking the silence. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Taylor bit his lip and Christian couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. He’d kissed Taylor. He'd kissed another man. Just a minute ago, those velvety soft lips had been on his and the most fucked up thing about it was he wanted to do it again. It should have felt strange, having a man in his arms, but it hadn't. It had felt deeply right.

He could no longer fight it. No longer pretend that he didn’t feel what he felt. After spending a full night watching Taylor sleep, feeling the warmth of his hand in his, after that kiss, it was impossible to deny that he was far gone. That he got jealous when he saw Taylor talking to other guys, that just the sight of Harry’s hand on his shoulder had made him seethe.

This wasn’t going to disappear. Not even if Taylor went away, he knew that. So maybe he needed to stop running. Maybe he needed to ignore his head, the head that kept telling him that he’d never signed up for this. That his family would never understand – that this would be the final nail in the coffin in his relationship with his father. Maybe he needed to stop denying what he wanted.

He remembered Taylor on that first day, wearing that baggy jacket, looking sick and miserable, acting like the mouse he wasn’t, and he felt that tender pull in his heart.

He remembered the first night, when Taylor had pretended to be his lover to get rid of his date. It seemed years ago now. The irrational anger he’d felt when Taylor had turned down his dinner offer, should have warned him then that he was in over his head but it was too late now.

“I don’t know what to do about this ... " He exhaled slowly. "This thing that’s happening between us but I can’t keep ignoring it.”

“Christian,” Taylor said softly.

“Let me finish because I’m only going to say this once.” He could hear the thundering of his heart in his ears, felt his throat get tight. "I like you."

He saw Taylor inhale sharply, saw him swallow hard and for some reason seeing those nervous ticks gave him the courage to keep going.

“I thought it would pass, but it hasn’t. You’re in my head. You’re,” he banged his hand against his heart, “here. I don’t know how far this thing can go but I know that I can't let you leave. I can’t let you walk away and never see you again. So, I'm willing to take a shot. If it’s with you, I’m willing.”

Taylor didn’t speak at first. He just stared at him, eyes filling with tears.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

What?

He was stunned by how devastated he was by the words.

“I never thought you’d—I swear, Christian,” Taylor’s voice broke, the pitch of his voice rising with every word. "I swear I never meant for this to happen."

“What are you talking about Taylor?” Christian reached for him, wanting to comfort him, trying to understand, but Taylor pulled away, clutching himself. It made something cold and oily settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What is it?” he asked desperately.

Taylor shook his head, his eyes dark and miserable. “I can’t – I can’t be here right now.”  

“You don’t want to be with me?” He didn’t know what was happening. Didn't know how things had gotten so bad, so fast. But apparently he'd made a fatal mistake. He'd put himself on the line without questioning whether Taylor wanted him back.

“I...” Taylor took a shuddering breath. “Please, just give me time to think.”

He heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, heard the door swing open. Then Carson was in the room, his face tight, his eyes hard and cold.

Something like fear crossed Taylor’s face and despite his anger, the desire to protect him rushed over him. “Carson, get out.”

Carson ignored him, stomping over to grab Taylor’s arm. “Did you tell him? Did you?”

“Carson, please,” Taylor whispered.

“I gave you time to tell him the truth,” he said, shaking Taylor. “Not to twist him up even more.”

"What are you talking about?" Christian demanded.

Taylor avoided his eyes and stared up at Carson. "Can we please talk about this outside?"

"No. This has dragged on long enough."

"It definitely has," Christian said as he yanked Carson away from Taylor. He stepped in front of Carson. “What the hell is going on?”

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Carson looked at him, his expression bleak. “Isabel’s running her mouth down there. I can’t let this go on."

“Carson,” Taylor pleaded.

Carson ignored Taylor’s pleas. Instead he opened his mouth and said something so inexplicable, so insane, that Christian’s mind instantly rejected it.

“There's no other way to say this, so I'll just say it directly. Taylor ... Taylor's a girl.”

He would have laughed if he hadn’t seen the anguish and guilt on Taylor’s face. He would have laughed if the ground hadn't just shifted beneath him.