Page 46 of Finding Delaware

Of course, he knew about the car theft thing. I may have told Dad and the cops I gave permission, but Logan is my best friend.

“Just...help me understand, Huck. You can talk to me, man. I’m here for you.”

But for how long?

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I don’t. It would just lead him to more questions I don’t think he’s ready for me to answer.

“I know, Loge. I know you are. I just...” Shaking my head, I try to sort through my muddled thoughts. “It got too much, you know? The wedding, living with him.”Kissing him. “On top of the swim team and entrance exams and scholarship deadlines, preparing for graduation, it’s all just a lot right now.”

He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me for a second but lets it go, much to my relief. We make the rest of the drive back to my house in silence, catchy pop music occupying my mind from the radio. When he pulls into the driveway and I see who’s walking out of the garage…my heart starts to pound almost painfully in my chest.

Taylor slows to a stop at the same time we do, his bike by his side, the duffle bag he showed up with last year hanging from his arm. There’s a frown on his face as he stares at us from where he stands, just as we stare back, and the way he shifts on his feet has my stomach doing flips, and holy shit, am I nervous right now? Am I actually feeling something?

“Do you want me to stay?” Logan murmurs, his brows furrowed, but I quickly shake my head.

“No. No, no. It’s fine. Have fun at the range.”

There’s more emotion in my voice than I’ve heard in weeks, and Logan also realizes by the wide-eyed look he gives me. I wave him off, exiting the vehicle before heading up the driveway.

Taylor says nothing as he watches me approach, expression blank. I don’t mean to get as close to him as I do, but when I’m within touching distance, it feels like I’m a satellite that’s finally returned to orbit.

I was knocked out of his gravitational pull, but now I’m back in place.

He’s wearing a Metal Mulisha beanie and a denim jacket with band patches sewn into it, dark hair longer than the last time I saw him. He looks gaunt, and his blue-green eyes are dull–

Holy shit.

My stomach bottoms out when I notice the fucking scar.

I can see the stitch marks running from the corner of his brow to just under his cheek. It’s jagged and thick, giving his pretty features a more rugged look.

But Jesus. How bad had the injury been to create a scar like that?

“Hey,” he says slowly, taking me in silently with cautious eyes as I internally freak out.

I’ve decided. I liked it better when I felt nothing.

“Hey,” is all I respond because what else am I supposed to say to someone I’ve ignored for four months?

It’s awkward momentarily, both of us studying the other before he looks away.

“I didn’t think anyone would be home.” He swallows, and I watch the strong column of his throat flex with the movement. “Needed to come by and grab the shit I left. I still remembered the garage code, so...”

My lungs squeeze as I try to calm my breathing, not realizing until now that I’d been holding onto the hope he’d come back if his stuff was still here.

Fucking hell, when did I go from dreading living with him to hating when he left? One handjob in a pool was enough to shift my entire focus?

Because it wasn’t just the handjob.

It was the fact that it came from Taylor fucking Tottman.

I wrack my brain to respond, but it still feels like I’m running on Internet Explorer. My mouth opens, and I pray that something at least half intelligible comes out when the bag at his hip jerks. A loud cry comes from the duffle, and my eyes widen as Taylor rolls his lips.

“Are you–” I cough. “Are you kidnapping the cat?”

A brief flash of his sheepish smile appears before it’s gone, taking my heart with it when a scowl takes its place.

Not gonna lie; this hurts. I’ve grown attached to Lasagna over the last few months. On the nights when things get bad inside my head, having her curled up at the end of my bed or in my closet brings comfort. Feeding her, caring for her, even cleaning her litter box gives me something to focus on. A presence to look forward to. Dad had never allowed a pet before until last year.

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