Taylor

Even by the time I reach the cabin, I still feel like I'm floating. It's the only way to describe it, and I'd never even think those words unless I was being cynical, but I literally feel weightless, I'm so in love.

Meeting Adam in town was so unexpected yet so right, so fitting. Like the universe is placing us together once again, because the first time didn't quite work. But the universe will never give up because Adam and me are meant to be together. And I know that now.

Henry called a bunch of times while I was driving, and I feel bad, but it's not enough to call him back, not enough to really be guilt.

I'm coming up there. We have to talk! His text flashes across the screen just as I'm about to turn my phone off.

I type about half my reply, before I realize I better call. Adam's coming over soon. I can't have them meeting.

"There's nothing to talk about," I tell Henry. "At least not now. I need space. And time."

I don't even know why I’m not telling him everything. Guilt maybe, or my old complacent ways coming through.

"Time? You've had plenty of time," he yells, and I practically see the spittle flying from his mouth. I'm so bad, such a bitch. "I need some straight answers from you right now."

"We'll talk when I get back," I tell him.

"No, we'll talk now! You won't just walk out on me!"

Thing is, I don't even know what to tell him. I'm so confused, my mind still all fuzzy from the kisses before, the ease with which me and Adam came together again, the love still bubbling in my chest because it was meant to be. Henry's harsh tone is ripping right through all that, trampling it, and I can't have it, I won't. I want to be happy. I deserve it.

"I'm in love with someone else," I hear myself saying. "Please don't come here."

There's a pause so complete I'm sure the world just stopped turning.

"What?" Henry finally barks. "Who?"

"Someone I met when I came back from France," I mutter.

"A week ago?" he asks. "Are you completely insane?"

He's yelling it, and it's enough to bring up my anger too.

"No, I'm not insane," I retort.

"Right, well, I'm coming there now. We will talk about this like adults," he says, interrupting me.

"I won't let you in if you do," I say. "I won't even be here. I need time to work this out. To figure out what's important."

"Important? This is important. You and me! We're important!" He's shouting full on now and I'm shaking. "Stop being such a child."

"Maybe I'm just too young for you, ever thought of that? Maybe you should find someone more mature because clearly I'm not it."

"Yes, you are! We are starting a family together." The thought freezes my very blood now. And in all this yelling and shouting he hasn't even said he loved me. That should be an integral part of a conversation like this, I'd think. Yet, it's not. Because I don't think he does anymore.

"Please, let's just talk about this when I get back," I say. "I gotta go now. Don't come here."

"Taylor! If you hang up—"

But that's exactly what I do, because Adam will be here soon. And maybe I am childish about this, but that doesn't make me wrong.

* * *

Adam

It took me almost half an hour to convince the doctor to give Mom the note. Apparently she told him over and over again that she just wants to stay at home. I still got it in the end, because there's no denying my mom acts like a twelve year old most of the time. But I don't think I'll use it. Maybe we can work this out some other way.

I take her hand as we're driving back, and squeeze reassuringly. "It's OK, Ma, if you wanna stay home you can."

She beams at me, lays her other hand over mine. It's amazing how quickly her face can go from the brooding unhappiness it showed all through my talk with the doctor to this sunshiny happiness.

"No more talk of the nursing home?"

I shake my head. "No, I promise. Unless you want to."

She nods and looks out her window, starts humming, still holding onto my hand. I wish she could meet Taylor. It's a sudden thought and just pops into my head. But I don't know if that's a good idea. Not yet, anyway.

Pat's car and Brad's mustang are both parked in the driveway when we return, as is another car, a dark blue station wagon I've never seen before.

A small girl is playing on the porch steps with a Barbie doll. She looks at me with bright blue eyes as I walk up. I suddenly make the connection, realize who she must be, and I almost forget to breathe, I'm so tense.

"Oh, hello," Mom says, and walks past her into the house, like seeing little girls around the house is something totally ordinary. The visit to the doctor's office must have unsettled her pretty bad. If I had less pride, I'd probably just turn and walk away right now, go to Taylor's cabin and never come back. But all my shit's here anyway, and this reunion is long overdue.

"Hello, Theo," I say as I walk into the kitchen where Mom's already giving him a hug.

"Adam, it's been a long time," Theo says, trying to break away from the hug, but not really succeeding.

Yeah, not long enough.

"I'll make you something to eat," Mom says and walks to the fridge, sparing me the need to say anything more. "How about a nice grilled cheese?"

"No, I'm fine, Mom," Theo says still looking at me.

"I have some tomatoes too, I can put those in, and…" she rummages through the fridge. "Yes, some ham too. Would you like that?"

"No thanks, Mom," Theo says harshly, and I can hear Dad's tone clearly in his voice.

"Just let her make you a fucking sandwich," I say. The look he gives me is not a glare, far from it. It's sort of scared and lost.

"Sure, Ma, ham and cheese would be nice," he says.

I don't say anything more, just turn and walk out.

"Hey, wait, where you going?" Pat calls after me. Both him and Brad have been following my reunion with Theo in utter silence.

"I got places to be," I say over my shoulder, and don't stop.

"Yeah, and we got things to discuss!" Brad yells after me, but I'm already halfway up the stairs, on my way to getting my things and leaving, so I don't bother replying.

Pat's waiting for me in the kitchen doorway when I come back down with my bag. "There's no need for this, Adam. Stay. We need to have a conversation."

"I don't see a need to get involved any further," I say and walk past him. And for a moment the flash of anger in his eyes tells me he'll try to stop me physically. But he doesn't, lets me walk out of the house.

I hear the screen door slam shut once I'm almost at my bike, and turn to see Theo jogging towards me, the little girl following him.

"Look, Adam, I just wanted to…" he says as he reaches me, his voice trailing off like he's in pain.

"What?" I say, less harshly than I intended.

Theo is patting his little girl on the head absentmindedly, and she's sort of leaning against his leg, shaking because the dog’s barking like mad. Probably waiting for Theo to give the command and have him chase me across the field.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for being such a dick to you growing up."

An apology is the last thing I ever expected from Theo, so it's shocking enough to take my breath. But apart from that, it doesn't change a damn thing. It doesn’t erase all the shit he did to me, and it sure as hell doesn't make me love him. Or forgive him. Or feel anything really. If I never see him again, I'll be just fine. People don't change.

"I don't know, let me think about that Theo," I say anyway, and swing my leg over the bike. I'd tell him to go fuck himself with his apology, but his daughter is right there, staring at me now, and maybe what I really want to say is not something she needs to hear. I hope he treats her right. Not like our dad treated us. Or the way Theo treated me. Like all those years he used to randomly hit me real hard, just for fun. But that's not for me to worry about anymore.

"Will you be back?" Theo asks as I rev up the engine.

"Doubt it," I say and leave.

I drive fast, so I can't think of anything else but the road. Except the fact that I'm about to taste Taylor again.

* * *

Taylor

My mind's still reeling from the conversation with Henry when Adam finally comes. I run out on the porch, because I need to warn him that Henry might be coming. But then his arm is around my waist, the other tangled up in my hair, and his soft lips are pressed against mine, igniting my whole body. Everything I was going to say is burnt away in heat of our kiss.

"I’m really glad you’re back, you know," he says, breaking the kiss momentarily to grin at me.

I love the way his lips glisten in the overhead light.

"Yes, I missed you very much too," I say, rather wryly which makes him laugh.

He hugs me tighter. "I missed you more than I can say."

And I feel the sincerity of his words deep in my chest.

He lifts me up by my ass and I wrap my legs around his hips, my arms around his strong back. Our lips remain pressed together as he carries me inside, his tongue swirling around mine in my mouth. I don't want this to end, ever, and it hasn't even begun yet.

He only breaks the kiss long enough to toss me down on the bed, and then he's on top of me, his tongue demanding entrance. I love the way he kisses, demanding and fierce, yet soft too, and considerate. I'm running my hands up and down his back, his arms, into his hair, wanting to feel as much of his skin as I can.

I pull his shirt up as his mouth leaves mine to trail small kisses down my neck. He pulls away and winks at me, grinning.

"Yes, let's get naked," he says and pulls his shirt over his head.

I come up on my elbows, watching him undress, enjoying the warm wetness forming between my legs as his chiseled abs, chest and arms come into view. He's already unbuckling his jeans and kicking off his boots, by the time he sees me looking.

"You want me to go slower?" he asks, like he's reading my mind. I just nod and bite down on my lower lip. My voice would come out all shaky if I tried to speak now.

He gives me one of his best cocky grins, then, with his eyes fixed on my face, he slowly pulls his belt from the loops, letting it fall to the floor by his side. Next, he unbuttons his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly, before hooking his thumbs behind the waistband and sliding them down slowly. I'm breathing hard now, my very skin burning. I lick my lips as his hard, muscled legs come in to view. His cock is rock hard, I can see its outline through the black fabric of his shorts. I sit up all the way, like it's pulling me, and move to the edge of the bed, until I can feel the heat coming off his body on my wet lips.

He hasn't broken eye contact yet, and it’s like he can see deep inside me. I'm utterly, completely naked under his gaze, and I know, without a shred of doubt, that no part of me is found wanting. I lean forward, remove what remains of the distance between us, and kiss his stomach right above the elastic of his waistband. His scent, his enormous presence is all around me, but I need more.

Adam’s standing so still the air around him is actually sizzling with all the pent up energy he's not using. I hook my thumbs into the waistband and yank them down. His cock slaps me in the jaw as I set it free. He chuckles, but I'm in a trance and all I want is to taste him.

I wrap my palm around the base and lick the head, making us both shiver. He groans as I swirl my tongue around the head like I'm licking an ice cream cone. Then I trace the thick, pulsing vein right down to the base and back up. Slowly, so I can feel every tiny bump, every millimeter of the velvety skin.

His pleasure is radiating through me, and I know he wants more, wants me to take him in my mouth, but I'm enjoying teasing him, the mounting energy sizzling around us filling me completely. His hand is stroking my hair, so soft and right.

I finally relent and wrap my lips around his cock, pulling off and bobbing back down. The long sigh I get is all the encouragement I need to keep going. His cock is growing even larger in my mouth and I know he's very close by the jagged quality of his breathing.

He pulls out suddenly, and stares down at me, his eyes dazed. I know he sees my disappointment, feels it, because that's how connected we are right now.

"Your turn," he explains hoarsely, and pulls me to my feet.

He makes short work of removing my shirt, my jeans, my bra. And then I'm on my back again, with him kneeling before me, teasing my panties down.

I moan as his lips find my clit, his licks so maddeningly slow I might just melt into this bed right here. He inserts a finger, followed by another, pumping them in and out as his licks get wetter, harder. I shudder, whimper as each movement of his fingers brings me closer to the inevitable explosion. He starts pumping his fingers into me faster, deeper, and my nails are digging into the comforter, my nipples so hard they almost hurt. With a long sigh, which turns into a whimper, I let the explosion consume me, white heat is all I see.

He removes his fingers once my tremors subside, then trails kisses up to my lips.

"Ready for more?" he asks, his eyes finding mine and holding.

"Always," I breathe, because it's the absolute truth.

He smiles and moves me up on the bed, lies on top of me, his weight pressing me down neither too heavy nor too light. I gasp as he enters me, sure and insistent, like he belongs there. Because he does. We'll neither of us be whole, unless we're together.

He's opening me up, thrusting into me slow and sure, and I close my eyes, arch my back to give him better access, because I want more, all of it. Waves of hot, searing pleasure are coursing through me, filling my belly, rising into my chest, my head. Soft and steady, mounting higher and higher, until all I know is this soft water of pleasure and I come again, hard and long, the waters washing over me, taking me under.

When I open my eyes again, he's holding me, studying my face.

"You are really back, right?" he whispers. "I'm not just imagining this."

"I am back and I'm staying," I tell him, because I know he needs to hear it, and I need to say it.

Then I close my eyes again, not yet willing for the soft warmth to flee.

* * *

But he's tense, I can feel that too, even though he's just laying there, stroking my side and kissing my cheek, my lips, my forehead from time to time. So I can't relax either.

"What's wrong?" I ask, knowing very well he won't want to answer, but I have to try and make him feel better.

"Nothing much, now that you're back," he says, running his fingers down my cheek.

"Nothing much isn't the same as nothing," I protest, not really sure why I'm pushing it. He's saying exactly what me and every other girl in the world wants to hear. I should be telling him about Henry, but that would totally kill the mood. I don't think he's coming anyway. I think that was just an empty threat.

"Family shit," he says. "Nothing for you to worry about."

"Your dad?" I ask, a stone cold weight settling in my stomach.

"Still missing," he says, and I can see his face tighten as he decides not to tell me something.

"But you think he's alright?" I ask once it's clear he's done talking.

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. Maybe I should stop asking questions, but that's not really the vibe I'm getting.

"I don't know. He might not be," he finally says. "But if he does come back, I want my mom out of the house. Problem is, she won’t go."

He’s telling me things, just like I wanted, and his voice is level and normal, but I’m very afraid he’ll blow up at me if I say the wrong thing. Doesn’t stop me though.

"Maybe you shouldn’t force her?" I say, phrasing it like a question to take the sting off.

"Yeah, I think you’re right," he says, caressing my back absentmindedly. "But that means I’ll have to stay close to home, and well, my brother's there now."

"The one who gave you that scar?" I ask, my voice faltering a little.

He won't meet my eyes as he cracks his knuckles. "Yes, one of many. I mean, he used to beat me up just for fun growing up. And today…today he has the nerve to apologize. As if that makes it all OK. I mean seriously…what does he expect?"

It's not really a question, and his voice is harsh and clipped in anger, cold enough to chill me. There’s things I want to ask, but I’m afraid that anger will turn on me of I do.

He finally looks at me, probably wondering why I’m quiet, and his eyes loose the hard edge immediately, his gaze so soft it's like I'm looking at a gently flowing river.

"Oh, Taylor. I’m so sorry for ever yelling at you, or snapping at you," he says, running his free hand through his hair, leaving it all tussled as his eyes leave mine. "It’s just being back in this town, and back home…well…it’s not easy for me."

His eyes find mine again. "I hear what you’re saying and I know I have some anger issues. But I’m trying to stop raging at everyone and everything around here. And I don’t think I’d be able to figure that out if I hadn’t met you."

He chuckles as he says it, but I’m certain he means it too, because the words pack a huge emotional punch, almost hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I wrap my arms tighter around his body, and kiss the skin over his heart. "I do know you’re not mad at me when you do that."

"Good," he says and kisses the top of my head lightly. "But I don’t want to scare you either."

I want to tell him he doesn’t, but it’d be a lie, and I can’t bring myself to say it.

"I just want to help you get through whatever it is that’s bothering you…Talking about stuff always helps me get over them, that’s why I’m asking you so many questions, I guess…I just mean, you can tell me anything. Like, if you want…" I let my voice trail off once I realize I’m rambling.

I glimpse up, fully expecting him to get mad, tell me I’m being childish, and that real men don’t talk about their feelings.

But his lips are curled up into a serene half smile, and his eyes are unfocused, yet still bore deep into me. And none of my fears are right or justified, I know that from just his look, yet I still have the strongest urge to apologize.

"You think I’m being childish?" I finally ask, though it’s more of a statement than a question. But it’s better that I say it, because I don’t want to hear it from him.

He strokes my hair, brushing it back behind my ear. "You’re just so innocent and pure, so unspoiled by bad things. And I love you for it, because you make me feel at home. Not like mine, that was never much of a home, just in a general sense. You know, the way a home is supposed to be."

He’s called me beautiful and gorgeous, showed me he wasn’t lying by making love to me in a way that makes the rest of the world disappear. But this, what he’s saying now, this is what I longed to hear, and I have no doubts left, none whatsoever, that he loves me.

I take his hand, entwine my fingers with his and squeeze. "I love you too. And I’m sorry I left the way I did. But I came back, because I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. It hurt too much. And that’s why I want to help you, if I can, even by just listening."

"I don’t know if I can tell you everything, though," he says, his smile faltering even as he tries to make it wider. "I think you’ll take back everything you just said and run away again if I do."

"Try me."

He’s not saying anything, keeps looking at me, and I watch his eyes change from the dreamy softness to something hard and empty. Yet they’re rippling like from things moving beneath the surface of a river.

"I want to know everything about you," I tell him, since maybe my answer before wasn’t clear enough, adding, "If you want to tell me." Because that's important too. He needs to want to tell me.

"OK, but only because it's you," he says, and pulls the comforter up, covering us both. He grins, but it doesn’t make his eyes sparkle this time, and my heart is beating so fast I'm getting lightheaded.

"My dad, and my brother…" he starts. "They were real mean, but they're not the whole reason why I left home so soon."

I nod. Just the tension rising around him is enough to tighten my chest in sadness. I’m afraid that learning the exact things he’s trying to say will make me cry.

He breaks eye contact with me, looking somewhere behind my shoulder. "I left because something happened that made the whole town despise me."

His voice drops as he says it until the last few words are barely audible.

"It's the reason the sheriff came up here to get me like he did," he continues, chuckling, but it's a very cold sound.

"What happened?" I breathe. Even though I already know it's bad, and will only get worse once he tells me.

He glances at me, but his gaze doesn't linger.

"My best friend Davy and I…well, I wanted to be a soldier since I can remember, and he did too, so that's what we did, played soldiers, out in the woods. Practically every day since elementary school. Stupid, dangerous stuff," his voice drops again until I can barely hear him. "And then one day, when we were fifteen, up at the old mine—Hunter's Point—he fell. Broke his neck."

His voice is shaking, though there are no tears in his eyes. There are in mine though, because I can feel all the sadness he's not showing, that he's keeping bottled up, and I will start sobbing at any moment.

"But it was an accident," I manage. "How can they hate you for that?"

He stays silent, searching my face, and even though he's not saying it, his eyes are showing just how much he needed me to say it.

"Yeah, I guess,” he finally says. "But I froze. Didn't tell anyone for two days. Just hid out in the forest, until the shock finally wore off, and I realized I should go back into town and tell them what happened. Thing is, all of them thought I had something to do with it and that it was the reason I didn't come sooner. That I pushed him. And even though I was never charged, and they had no proof, most people in this town still think so. Not surprising, given the reputation of my extended family around here."

"The Sheriff questioned me for like two days straight afterwards, wouldn't let me go home, kept trying to make me admit I killed him," he adds. "So when he came up here the other day, insinuating I had something to do with Dad's disappearance, I kinda flipped out."

"I understand. That's such a terrible accident…a really horrible thing to witness," I say, trying to not imagine seeing Amanda, my oldest friend in the world, die before my eyes.

"Thing is, it was my fault. I was always pushing we do dangerous things, and that day I had the brilliant idea that we could cross this rafter like thing. A thin strip of wood, basically, maybe five inches wide. And it was like fifteen feet above the ground, so not even that high…maybe we’d get like a broken arm or ankle from falling, or a concussion, but not more than that…anyway, it didn’t even seem that dangerous. Only thing was, it led right over one of the mine shafts," he says, his voice growing hoarser. He shifts away from me and cracks his knuckles, like he’s gathering his courage.

"So, I went first, since I always did everything first, and I don’t know, maybe I cracked it or something, because when it was Davy’s turn, well it broke, and…and..." His voice cracks again, and a feel a tear run down my cheek. I’m sadder than I ever was in my entire life, and the sadness is like a physical presence, sitting on my chest. But I stay perfectly quiet and perfectly still, because I know he has to tell me this, and I can’t interrupt.

He clears his throat. "And the thing broke, and Davy fell. It happened right over the mineshaft…he hit his head on the side, and dropped into the hole. So they’re right to call me a murderer, because it was my idea, and maybe I didn’t push him, but I did go first, and I might’ve made it unsafe for him. And he didn’t want to do it in the first place, but I hounded him until he did."

He blames himself. The thought lands like a kick in my stomach. And my mind is reeling with the images his words are painting. If the scene he’s describing were in a movie, I’d shut my eyes before the worst happened. So I can’t even begin to imagine what witnessing it in real life was like. Or living with the guilt for so many years. But this isn’t about me. And I have to be strong for him, more than for myself.

"And there it is, the whole story…more than I ever told anyone." He's moved away from me while he was speaking, like he’s giving me the space to distance myself. But the thought never even crossed my mind, and the emptiness between us is freezing cold. I nestle closer, wrap my arms around him, willing, wishing my love was enough to wash it all away.

"It's not your fault," I mumble into his chest.

"I don't know…"

I squeeze him harder. "It's not. It was just a horrible accident.”

"Maybe. But the people around me keep dying, and I keep surviving through the most horrible shit…how’s that fair?"

"That’s what happened on your last mission too, right?" I ask, the pieces clicking into place, and I get it now, his reluctance to talk about himself, his anger when I asked too many questions.

He nods. "Yeah, I was pushing to go on that one too, even though we all knew something was off."

"Was it your call?" I ask, since I’m certain it wasn’t.

"No," he sighs. "But still…"

"Things go wrong sometimes, even the best laid plans," I say, trying to catch his eye, but he’s not letting me. "And no, it isn’t always fair. But you don’t have to blame yourself either. I mean, all that brought us together, and you deserve that too. We both do. So I think we should just enjoy it, don’t you?"

I know I do. And I want him alive and with me for a very long time to come.

He nods and lets me hold him, even relaxes a little. The silence covers us, but it's a heavy one, like a blanket of snow.

"So, now that you know, you really still want to stick around?" he asks after awhile in a shaky whisper.

I lift my head, gaze right into his eyes. "Yes, of course I do. For as long as you’ll have me."

"Well, that's gonna be a long time. You sure you're up for it?" he squeezes my butt as he says it, and I've never felt this wanted in my whole entire life.

"You sure? Even when I’m all old and flabby?" I ask, can’t help it, because I have my fears too.

"You’ll make one hot grandma!" he exclaims in mock indignation.

"Oh, sure I will. Especially once gravity pulls my boobs down," I say, trying not to picture that lady I once saw in the street, whose large boobs hung down past her bellybutton.

"That’s nothing that a good bra can’t fix," he says and grins wickedly.

And I can’t help but smile too, because his relief and happiness are contagious.

I lift up and kiss him, softly at first, but then my need, my desire takes over, and we kiss until we're both breathless. His hands are all over me, exploring every inch of my skin like he wants to get to know me completely. And I mimic his touches, because I want the same.

But he suddenly breaks away from the kiss, and gets up so quickly I feel like a piece of me was torn right off. He picks up his jeans and is pulling them on, before I can even grasp what's happening. He does everything so fast, so impulsively.

"You're leaving?" I ask, not able to hide my disappointment.

He kneels on the bed and kisses me again, harder this time, more urgent. "I'll be back soon. But I need to go deal with something now."

"With what?" I ask pulling him down on top of me. "Can't you stay?"

"Oh, I intend to," he says, kissing me again. "For a very long time. Right after I do this thing. And thank you!"

"For what?" I ask, completely confused now, especially since he's standing again, pulling on his shirt.

"For making me finally see that running away solves nothing," he says and sits on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on. "It's what I do, always have, but I should stop. I should deal with all this shit head on. With Theo, my dad, my mom. Else I'll never be a good boyfriend to you."

I just opening and closing my mouth, not even sure what I'm thinking. He grins at me, and strokes my cheek again. "Just wait for me, OK?"

I nod and don't protest anymore, even get up and walk him to the door, wrapped in the comforter.

"Everything will be alright, Adam. I know it," I say, once we stop kissing by the door.

"Yeah?"

"And I'll stand by you through it all," I add, sigh as he wraps me in a hug so tight I'm not sure where I end and he begins.

"Just hurry back, please," I mumble into his chest.

"I promise," he says, and squeezes me even tighter, then lets go.

Then he leaves and I feel like a part of me is gone too. The part only he can keep in place.