TW: Mentions of emotional abuse.
The first time Taylor noticed, really noticed was after they'd been dating for nearly a month. Travis was great; funny, warm, self-deprecating in a way where it demonstrated he didn't take himself too seriously, aside from his career and the aspirations he had for the future. He was sweet, sending her flowers for no real reason other than he wanted to with cute, mushy cards and they had conversations about everything; he was one of the easiest people to talk to. Confident, but not full of himself, cool, but not arrogant. Everybody in her circle who just happened to know him told her she'd adore him and they were right.
Humor directed at herself was her go-to as well, so at first, Taylor had thought nothing of it when he called himself a "moron" or a "jabroni" or a "dummy". He would always laugh when he said it, too, playing it off and gently, she'd empathize to make him feel better about whatever it was, maybe a "oh, no, no worries, that happens to me all the time." They'd brush it off and go back to what they were doing and it was fine.
It was when she observed it happening more frequently that something started to click. She knew a little bit about Travis's family life; how they were pretty tight knit, just like hers, parents divorced, a brother, also like her. She'd heard the stories about Jason and the way he'd more or less gone to bat for Travis when he had messed up his scholarship. The feelings were obvious...he had considered himself a real screw-up back then, sort of alluding to how he felt like he could never quite measure up to Jason, even drawing comparisons when he went pro.
One night after they spoke on the phone and he'd harshly blamed himself a few times for missing her initial call, it occurred that perhaps there was some kind of negative dynamic in their family...that he'd somehow gotten it in his head that he wasn't good enough or someone close said so and that was all it took for her heart to ache for him. Underneath all that confidence, she could easily see the brokenness.
"Hey," she curled her feet underneath her knees, "you don't have to apologize. You got busy."
"I shouldn't have been an idiot. Paid closer attention to the time."
"You're not an idiot. It happens, Trav. Happens to me and I guarantee it happens to everyone."
There was a part of her that wanted to ask what was on her mind, but because of their schedules, they really had to dig in to find the opportunity to talk and the last thing Taylor wanted to do was weigh the conversation down with anything heavy.
Filing away a mental note to maybe bring it up later, she casually changed the topic, asking about training camp and how it was going.
Instantly, he brightened, launching into a hilarious story about something zany that had happened in the afternoon and that was that, he was back to himself.
The whole thing, though, had unsettled her a little.
"Can I ask you something, Mom?"
Her mother had called while she was at the gym a few days later (Taylor and her brother would swear up and down she had a built in radar that made her pick up the phone the second any of her children were doing something) and when she answered, of course, it wasn't anything serious.
The thought had come up and she figured if her workout was going to be interrupted anyway, she might as well seek out advice.
"You know you can ask me anything, honey."
She found herself sitting on the mat covered floor, explaining the situation while her mother listened patiently. It was one of her best qualities; her ability to allow the other person to speak before she weighed in and even as an adult, Taylor could very much appreciate the consideration.
