Page 44 of The Princess

TAYLOR

Mickey was a fucking ghost. When Taylor went home the next morning before work, there was no sign of Mickey. Except the dishes had been washed and stacked to dry, and the blanket had been folded. The borrowed clothing was neatly set on top of the washing machine. But no sign of Mickey.

Taylor looked for him at the restaurant, too. Every day, as he was leaving, he took a takeout container full of food, wrapped it in a bag, and left it by the back door. And every day it would be gone. So Mickey was still around there, somewhere.

He thought of asking Colby about Mickey, but stopped himself. If he asked about him, he’d have to explain why and he couldn’t come up with a believable lie. He’d end up spilling the whole story about how he’d helped Mickey and had been trusting enough to let him stay in his home. Colby would have told him all the ways Mickey could have hurt him in his sleep and then Taylor might have to admit that he’d spent the night with Colby’s best friend and therefore Mickey hadn’t been a threat at all.

Besides, he looked too tired and weak to be any real threat. Taylor had never been in a fight, but he could have totally taken Mickey if need be.

There were times when the proximity of him to his family grated on his nerves. He loved his brothers and he’d never not want to work at the diner, but there were times when it was a lot. He was still living at home, essentially, even though he had his own space. That hadn’t stopped Colby from barging into it the one day. However good that turned out for both of them, it still irritated him that it had happened at all.

He could only imagine the firestorm it was going to cause when they found out that he was seeing Nash and Damon. Taylor pushed that particular thought out of his head. It was a problem for future Taylor.

He glanced at the clock when Josie came in. Despite having cooked for more people than Taylor could shake a stick at, he’d managed to have the kitchen tidy and ready to hand over. He threw some food together for Mickey and carefully tucked it away in a plastic bag. Remembering Mickey’s cough, he tucked a couple of bills into an envelope and scrawled a note to him on it, telling him to get something for it.

If he thought Mickey would listen or would take him up on the offer, he’d tell him to come back to his place for another hot meal and warm night. At least until he felt better. But he knew it was futile. Though Mickey was clearly in the area still, he was making a point of avoiding Taylor.

As he was leaving, his dad came into the kitchen and looked at the bag in his hands. He paused before grabbing the next order. “You know, your friend can always come in the front for a hot meal. No charge.”

Taylor shot his dad a smile. It felt frail, and so did Taylor for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. He hated that so much of his life was on display to his family. It was time to look for a different place to live. “He knows, but thanks.”

Taylor ducked out the back and set the food down in its usual spot. To keep it dry in the autumn weather, Taylor had brought an old Tupperware container outside and placed the food inside it. It was clear plastic, allowing Mickey to see there was something inside waiting for him, but it kept the rain off.

Taylor’s discontent nagged at the back of his mind and it wasn’t long before one of his boyfriends picked up on it. Taylor was out with Damon again. Though the weather was chilly, Damon brought him to the antique machinery park, a place where relics from the old days were lovingly cared for and put on display. A steam shovel. An old train caboose. A carefully restored water wheel.

The date was lovely, and Taylor had a great time meandering through the park despite the biting wind. He held hands with Damon, which was somewhat of a novelty. He’d never had the hold-hands-in-public type of boyfriend before. But once they were back in the car and Damon blasted the heat, Taylor fell into his mire of misery again.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Damon asked gently, placing a hand on Taylor’s thigh as he drove.

“Nothing really. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.”

“Do you need to vent or do you need a distraction?”

Taylor put his hand on top of Damon’s and gave it a squeeze. Leave it to Damon to be the perfect boyfriend. In a way, he was thankful for the fact that Damon didn’t immediately pry and try to get Taylor to spill his guts about all the little things that were bothering him. Without Taylor realizing it, all those little things had started to add up and now they felt like big things. It was the difference between a snowflake and an avalanche. One little thing wasn’t a big deal, but if you put them all together and gave them a shove, they could bury him.

“Maybe both?” Taylor admitted. “It’s mostly a lot of small things. I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, because I love my family and I know how lucky I am to have them. But I feel like I have no privacy. I live in my dad’s basement and though my brothers respect my space for the most part, sometimes they don’t. And I work at the diner, which I love, but it means I can’t even sneeze without everyone knowing about it.” Taylor blew out a breath and was about to say that he knew he sounded whiny and ungrateful, because he did have a job and a place to live, and a family that loved him. That was more than a lot of people had. People like Mickey, whom Taylor couldn’t stop worrying about.

“That sounds hard.” Damon gave Taylor’s hand a squeeze.

At first, Taylor waited for Damon to continue, to elaborate on that and tell him that he had it good even if it was hard sometimes and that he should be grateful. But those words never came. Damon drove, quietly waiting for Taylor to speak again, to lay more of his troubles down at Damon’s feet.

The calm support and the attentive way Damon listened to him made everything better somehow. It didn’t change a single thing except that Taylor felt validated. And that made the avalanche easier to breathe under, like Damon had created a safe space and offered him shelter until he was ready to dig himself out.

He didn’t want to rescue Taylor, seemingly understanding that Taylor was capable of doing that for himself. He’d needed someone to stand with while he took a breath.

He could use that distraction now, though. Damon waited in silence, content to drive with the music turned down.

“I was thinking that Nash’s place could use a plant or two. What do you think?” Taylor looked at Damon, who pulled his focus away from the road long enough to glance at him and offer him one of his heart-melting smiles.

“I think that’s a great idea. And I happen to know that he’s at the gym with your brother, and I happen to have keys to his place if you need an accomplice.”

“I was counting on that.” Taylor beamed at him. “We can swing by my place, and I’ll run in and grab them quick. I already know what ones I’m going to bring.”

Usually when Taylor was sneaking plants around and leaving them in the care of unsuspecting people, he had to be more clever and crafty to pull it off. Sure, sometimes it was easier than others, like the tree he’d brought to the diner or the plants that he’d migrated upstairs to his dad’s half of the house, but getting the plants into Nash’s apartment was almost too easy.

Taylor set the orange tree up on the side table near the balcony. Light from the other side of the building would have been better for it, but it would do fine in its current location. He’d also brought over an avocado that he’d started. The seed had cracked open and a shoot had started about a month ago. He set that one on the counter in the kitchen, admiring how it looked at home in Nash’s apartment.

“Is it strange to be here without him?” Taylor asked Damon when he came up behind him and tugged Taylor into his arms. Lips brushed against the back of Taylor’s neck and Damon inhaled. “Did you just sniff me?”

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