Top Priority

42

Taylor's pov

"Are you excited?" I asked as Colby and I grabbed our bags from the trunk. Logan and Landon had already made their way into the house, leaving us outside alone.

"For what? Oh, yeah," He added quickly when I motioned to my dad's home, "What about you? You have seen him in a while,"

I shrugged, shutting the trunk before I walked towards the house with him following me, "I'm scared to see the chemotherapy take its toll on him. I don't want to see him in any pain at all,"

I felt his hand rest against my hip, spinning me around with a slight push to my side. "It'll be alright. You got this, okay?"

I nodded, unable to look him directly in the eyes. I couldn't simply believe someone's words over what's actually going on. As soon as I walk through that door, everything I've been told will be a reality. In LA, I could convince myself that things weren't as bad as they seemed to be, but I can't do that anymore.

I turned around, walking to the front door and not hesitating to turn the doorknob to go into the house. I painted a smile on my face, throwing open the door, "Honey I'm home!" I shouted, loud enough to alert everyone in the house of my presence.

Colby scooted out of the way before I shut the door, and I pointed down to his feet, "Shoes," then pointed to the pile where the rest of the shoes went.

"Dad?" I walked past the entry hallway, looking back and forth between the kitchen and living room to see where he was.

"I'm in here!" He hollered back, and turned to see Colby right behind me. I grabbed his hand, leading him to the living room.

There were more people in the living room than I anticipated. My father and mother, my dad's mother, and both of my siblings. And surely there were more people coming tomorrow.
I let go of Colby, holding my arms out to hug Dad, who was laying down on the recliner. He looked a lot thinner, and had less hair than the last time I saw him a couple months ago. I would have cried if it wasn't for my grandmother distracting me.

"Oh, Taylor, who's this cutie?" My grandmother had a loud voice with a thick southern accent, and it didn't match her petite body.

She was looking at Colby, who was standing awkwardly next to Landon. He had the brightest smile, though, and held his hand out to her, "I'm Colby. Nice to meet you,"

"Oh, to heck with them' handshakes," She stood up, giving him a hug, and based on his facial expressions, she was squeezing him a little too hard.

They broke apart, and she squeezed his arm teasingly. "My oh my you're a strong one," She turned to me with a teasing grin on his face, "I'm surprised he doesn't kill you with arms like that,"

I smiled over at Colby, who had an expression of surprise mixed with disbelief on his face.

"Is this the boy you've been talking about? You do look familiar," My mother squinted at him, trying to think of where she recognized him from.

Logan pulled her phone out, showing her what I assumed was her lockscreen. Mom's mouth popped open as soon as she did, "Huh. What are the odds? This is you? You're from Sam and Colby,"

Mom wasn't really a big fan of them, clearly. She hasn't been for years, because every single time Logan would bring them up, she'd lecture her on how "doing illegal things for a couple views on the Youtube is no way to live a life"

Hopefully her opinion has changed since I last saw her, because now one of the very boys she talked shit on for years is standing right in front of her.

"In the flesh," He smiled, and though I would have died if he smiled at me like that, my mother did little more than scofff at him.

Colby ignored it, though, and I looked around the room at everyone, not sure what to do, "Well, we're going to take our bags upstairs," I said, thinking quickly.

I grabbed his hand, and he didn't seem to mind that I practically dragged him out of the room to grab our suitcases and up the stairs to my bedroom.

"Sorry. That was awkward," I said with a laugh as we walked into my room.
It was a decent size bedroom, the same color gray that was painted on the walls since I was fifteen. I had a desk that was empty from when I moved, and a bed that was neatly made since the last time I visited. My dad doesn't go into my room often, according to Landon.

He claims that is "my space" and it wouldn't be right to go in without me being home.

"It's okay," He sat his suitcase on the floor by the end of my bed before sitting down on it, "I don't think your mother likes me very much,"

"She doesn't like you or Sam, apparently. I didn't realize Logan was such a big fan of yours, even though she has since she was, like, ten," I said, sitting down beside him. "But that doesn't matter, because my grandma likes you, and she is the one you need to worry about,"

"She tried to kill me in that hug!" He exclaimed, smiling over at me, "She is really nice, though,"

I looked around the room as we fell into silence. I could tell that Colby didn't necessarily want to go downstairs if my mother was there, since she met him less than five minutes ago and already expressed her disgust towards him.

"Dad isn't looking too good," I said quietly, biting at my lip.

"He looked alright," Colby shrugged, tilting his head as he did so.

"Yeah, but my dad is usually full of life. My dad never sits down, and usually he's always cooking. He doesn't even have the energy to do what he loves anymore," I could feel my face crease as I began to cry.

"Hey, hey it's okay. He's here, he's downstairs," Colby scooted closer to me pulling me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me.

"But it's worse, Colby. It's so much worse than before," I took in a shaky breath, wiping my face with my hands, "I can't imagine him being gone. He's still so young, he's not even fifty. It's not fair to him,"

Colby stayed quiet, running his fingers through my hair, letting them get tangled in the strands that would catch his fingers.

I looked at him, "Why can't I be the one to have cancer? Why does it have to be him?" I tried to keep my voice down, but it was getting difficult to control myself.

"I'm sorry," I sat up, wiping my face and grabbing one of the makeup wipes off my nightstand, cleaning my face that was stained with mascara. "I shouldn't be crying, I should be downstairs spending time with him,"

"It's not good to keep all that bottled in. You have to let it out sometimes," Colby reasoned gently, and he rested his hand on my thigh, caressing it with his thumb.

"I'll let it out," I nodded, throwing the wipe away in the trash can beside my bed.

"I'll let it out when he's gone,"