Page 110 of Finding Delaware

My other hand comes up, thumb running along the dark circles beneath his lower lids. “Did I do this?”

He says nothing, only searches my face with a hint of caution that has me pulling away, dropping my arms from him before getting to my feet. Everything feels shaky and unstable, but I manage to remain steady as I back up a step. Putting space between us.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” I ask unevenly, running my hands through my hair where I can still feel his touch.

Taylor studies me while I watch his rabbit play with some toy under the desk, and then he reaches down to untie his Docs. Kicking them off, he scoots onto the bed until he’s against the headboard near the wall and then pats the empty spot beside him. It looks like an invitation, but something in his eyes tells me it’s not. No, I know what this is, and it fucking breaks me.

But I take off my own sneakers and lie down, feeling the warmth of his body as he leans over me to click off the lamp. When he settles in, we turn to face each other, light from the bathroom enough to make out his glittering gaze as he looks at me. Every part of my being aches to touch him, but I don’t. I’ll never touch him again without permission. Even if it never comes.

“Huckslee,” he whispers, but I shake my head.

“Please don’t.”

Don’t ruin this moment. Don’t make it hurt more than it already does.

He sighs, swallowing audibly. “But I have to. I need to. As of right now, this bed is Delaware, so just listen. Please.”

There’s a desperate urgency in his tone that makes my skin crawl, a dread yawning in the pit of my stomach. But I take a deep breath and close my eyes to shield myself.

“Okay.”

And I just listen. Like I should have been doing from the very start.

Taylor

Huckslee’s entire body is stiff as a board, muscles so tense that it looks painful. His hands fist the sheets, bracing for a blow he feels I’m about to deliver.

And in a way, I guess I am.

My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, the terror in my veins still present from when I found him sitting on the ground outside the Prospector, looking gray as a ghost. Not breathing.

Fuck, I thought I killed him.Again.

Taking a shaky breath, I moisten my lips and close my eyes, needing to block out the sight of him if I’m going to get through this. Because he’s here, and he’s finally willing to listen to me. I’m going to tell him all of it. Even the hard parts.

“Huckslee, I’ve been in love with you since the eighth grade.” My skin prickles under his gaze, but I keep my eyes closed. “I didn’t realize it until after I crashed your car, though. But before I get to that, there’s something else I need to say.” Another breath. “I used to...I used to start fights withyou so that I could hide the bruises from my dad. Blame it on you. In case anyone came asking, you know? Like that time freshman year. I know you think it was only my bike I cared about, but if he got caught, I knew I’d get taken away. And Maisie proved she didn’t want me, so I figured they’d send me here to the city where I’d never see Christian or the guys again.

And if he found out there was even an inkling of me being interested in guys, the same thing would happen. No more motocross, no more Christian, no more anything that made life at least a little better. Looking back, it’s kind of dumb because other kids had it worse. Like, all he did was break my hand once, maybe a rib a few times, but–”

“Stop that,” Huckslee cuts me off fiercely, “you’re downplaying. He hurt you, Taylor. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t as bad as you think it could have been, it was bad enough. And it happened to you, so it matters, dammit.”

A hoarse laugh leaves my dry throat. “You sound like my therapist.”

“So listen to them. None of this ‘others had it worse’ bullshit. Your experiences are valid. Say it.”

I crack open an eye to catch him staring at me with his lips pressed into a hard line. He looks so serious. Fucking cute. I can’t help it; my mouth twitches into a crooked grin.

“It’s not a joke,” he growls, glaring at me. “Say it right now.”

“Ok, Jesus. My experiences are valid. Happy?”

“No. Continue.”

God, he’s so grumpy.

Huffing a laugh, I scoot closer to him, unable to stop myself from seeking comfort in his touch. His chest hitches when itcollides with mine, and I close my eyes again, pressing my face into his shoulder. “Remember New Year’s Eve?”

His arms tentatively come up around me, warm breath caressing my cheek. “Yes.”

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