The Only Living Boy in New York

THIRTY-FOUR

Van

I hadn't talked to Taylor since yesterday morning.

She was due home any minute and I was working myself off of an all nighter. It wasn't because I stayed up taking my frustrations out on the town, I just couldn't sleep. I even tapped into the sleeping pills from my therapist, hoping relief would come there, but I maybe got an hour of restless sleep before I gave up on all of it.

Chloe's truth about Brody being in Vegas, wrecked me. It wasn't that I didn't trust Taylor fully. It wasn't that at all. It was the fear that he'd touch her, the proximity of him being that close to her, and me not being there to do anything about it. The fear of her being around him because he was the only thing familiar in an unknown city, and him snaking his way into her room, and attempting to...

My thoughts trailed off as I paced through the kitchen, knocking the tops of my knuckles on the cool countertop.

I didn't know what to say to her. I didn't want to upset her, but I was upset that she didn't tell me he would be there. Once Chloe spilled the news, it took everything in me not to call her on the spot. I opted for another glass of wine and chain smoked about six cigarettes just to keep a grip on myself. A different, untamed version of myself would have panicked and jumped into anger. I would have called her, freaked out, drank myself into oblivion, and then taken the pain inside of me out on the town. That's how I used to cope. But now, now I was different. At least I was trying to be.

Instead I worried myself sick and fell into an insomniac's paradise, contemplating Taylor's safety and what my reaction would be to her when she came home. But there was more to it. I was...hurt. Why wouldn't she tell me he was going to be there? What made her decide to keep that to herself? Why didn't she want to be honest with me about that? The thought pricked at my skin as I stared toward the windows behind the table in the kitchen that was never used.

A wave of grief took over my emotions, the sullen pang of disappointment rushing over as me as I considered the thought of Taylor keeping things from me. It was the first time I ever questioned it, and it wouldn't have mattered as much as it did if it didn't involve Brody. I knew too much about their past to not let the fear rile me up.

My thoughts shifted when I saw a black car pull up out front, Taylor stepped out into the hazy evening shadows, hair high in a pony tail as the driver met her by the trunk of his car, helping her with her small suitcase and waving goodbye. I should have gone out to help. I should have gone to the door at least, but I didn't. I stayed put in the kitchen and tried to talk myself off the ledge. We'd casually shared a few one word texts, but I didn't call her after dinner last night, I didn't call her this morning, and I didn't answer when she called to let me know she landed. I replied to her text when she asked if she could still come straight to mine instead of going home. I told her yes, and that was it. I knew she would have questions, and she wasn't the only one. I'd hidden from speaking to her directly in over a day because I had questions, too.

And now I was going to face her.

The door squeaked on its hinges, complaining against the heavy blanket of humidity that swallowed up the city. I turned toward the sound, able to see clean through the kitchen and past the living room where she was standing. She rounded the wall and shut the door behind her, eyes locking on mine hesitantly.

"Hey...." Her tone was apprehensive.

I cleared my throat and walked towards her. I wasn't cruel enough that I wasn't happy to see her. Something inside of me settled knowing she was here and she was safe. And she wasn't around Brody anymore. When I made it to her, a small smile turned the corners of my mouth upright and she wrapped her arms instinctively around my neck and hugged me. I returned the hug, feeling her press against me and sighing as my hands found their place against her back. We stood there like that for a moment.