Broken Records | Tayley

Chapter 18: Homecoming

Hayley's POV

The sun dipped low in the sky as we pulled into my dad's driveway, casting long shadows across the familiar yard. The house stood just as I remembered it—warm, inviting, with a hint of nostalgia clinging to the air. It had been a long drive, and now that we were here, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me, though there was an undercurrent of nerves that I couldn't quite shake.

Dad met us at the door with a wide smile, pulling me into a tight hug. "Hey, Bug. It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Dad," I replied, squeezing him back. His familiar scent—a mix of aftershave and wood smoke—was comforting, grounding me in the moment.

He turned to Zac and Taylor, shaking their hands with the same warmth. "Come on in, boys. Dinner's just about ready."

Zac grinned. "Thanks, Mr. Williams. Smells amazing in here."

"Just call me Joey," Dad said with a chuckle, waving off the formality. "And it's nothing fancy, just some good ol' Southern cooking."

We followed him into the kitchen, where the table was already set with plates, glasses, and a pitcher of sweet tea. The scent of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and cornbread filled the room, making my stomach growl in anticipation. It was the kind of meal that brought back so many memories—a comfort food that always made everything feel a little bit better.

As we sat down to eat, the conversation flowed easily. Dad was in his element, regaling Zac and Taylor with stories from my childhood, most of which I would have preferred stayed in the past.

"Remember when you got your first guitar, Bug?" Dad asked with a grin. "You played that thing non-stop for weeks. Drove us all a little crazy, but it was worth it."

"Dad, come on," I groaned, though I couldn't help but smile. "That was forever ago."

"But look where it got you," he said, his voice full of pride. "You're doing what you love, and you're great at it. That's all a parent could ask for."

My cheeks flushed with warmth, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. I caught Taylor's eye across the table, and he gave me a small, encouraging smile. Under the table, his hand found my knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I covered his hand with mine, grateful for the silent support.

It was moments like these that made everything feel surreal. Here we were, sitting across the table from my dad, sharing stories and laughing like nothing had changed. But things had indeed changed—Taylor and I had changed. The relationship we had now was nothing like what we used to have, and yet, nobody knew about us. Except for Zac of course, who had been let in on our little secret, but no one else had a clue. Not even my dad, who just thought we were the same old friends and bandmates we'd always been.

Dinner was a comforting blur of familiar flavors and easy conversation. Zac and Taylor fit in seamlessly, and for a while, it felt like we were just three friends sharing a meal, no different from any other night. But as the evening wore on, the weight of the day started to catch up with me. The long drive, the memories stirred up by being back home—it all left me feeling a bit drained.

After dinner, we moved to the living room, Dad and Zac talking about music while Taylor and I sat quietly on the couch. I leaned against him, my head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. It was a simple comfort, but one that meant the world to me.

"Your dad's great," Taylor whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

"He is," I agreed softly, closing my eyes for a moment. "It's nice to be home."

As the night drew to a close, Dad showed Zac and Taylor to the guest room, where they'd be sleeping. My old bedroom was still just as I'd left it—posters on the walls, bookshelves filled with childhood favorites. I changed into my pajamas, suddenly feeling like a teenager again as I crawled into my old bed.

But sleep didn't come easily. I tossed and turned, my mind too restless to settle. After what felt like hours of staring at the ceiling, I reached for my phone and opened our group chat. But instead of sending a message there, I texted Taylor directly.

"Hey. You still awake?"

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with his reply.

"Yeah. Can't sleep?"

"Nope. Not really. Meet me in the kitchen?"

I slipped out of bed, careful not to make too much noise as I padded down the hall. The house was quiet, the only sound the soft creak of floorboards under my feet. When I reached the kitchen, I found Taylor already there, leaning against the counter with a glass of water in his hand.

"Hey, handsome," I teased, my voice soft in the stillness.

He smiled, setting the glass down as I approached. "Hey yourself."

We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. Finally, I broke the silence.

"Thanks for coming on this trip," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "It means a lot to me."

"Of course, Hayley," he replied, his voice just as quiet. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be here with him, in the quiet of my childhood home. For a moment, I wanted to tell him everything—to let him know just how much he meant to me, how much I appreciated him being by my side through all of this. But the words caught in my throat, and instead, I just leaned into him, resting my head against his chest.

His arms wrapped around me, holding me close. We stood there in the kitchen, wrapped up in each other, the world outside falling away.

But the moment was bittersweet. It felt strange to be standing here in the middle of the night, holding Taylor so close, knowing that in a few minutes, I'd have to let him go and retreat to my own bed—alone. After weeks of falling asleep with him next to me, the idea of sleeping apart felt foreign, even wrong.

As if sensing my hesitation, Taylor pulled back slightly, looking down at me with soft eyes. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... not used to this."

"Sleeping apart?" he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah," I admitted, feeling a bit shy about it. "It's just... different."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I know. But it's just for one night, okay? We'll get through it."

I nodded again, trying to ignore the way my heart ached a little at the thought. "Right. Just one night."

With a final, lingering look, Taylor let me go, his hand trailing down my arm before slipping away completely. "Goodnight, Hayley."

"Goodnight, Taylor," I whispered back, watching as he quietly made his way back to the guest room.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he had been just a moment ago, before turning and heading back to my old bedroom. The bed felt too big, too empty without him beside me, and as I climbed under the covers, I couldn't help but feel a little lost.

But as I lay there in the darkness, the memory of his arms around me, the warmth of his body against mine, lingered. And somehow, that was enough to make the loneliness just a little more bearable.