Page 35 of Inevitable Inheritance

“Thank you, Derrick,” she said, letting out a heavy sigh. “I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you, Taylor,” he answered, but he could tell by her soft rhythmic breathing that she was already asleep. Derrick blew out a big breath and thought about baseball, world geography, Nan naked—anything to try and push back the overwhelming desire he felt right now and prayed for sleep to come his way.

Chapter Seven

Taylor’s dreamwas really just a bunch of memories of she and Derrick strung together, a steady stream of things she had tried to forget.

There had never been anyone else for Taylor like Derrick. He had been her first friend, her partner in crime for all their crazy escapades, and the only other person who really understood the life they lived. Taylor couldn’t imagine going a day without talking to him, and thankfully their mothers made certain that she never had to worry about it. The women were always together and, therefore, so were their children.

So when he threw his “You just don’t get me” bullshit at Taylor, she thought she was going to die. Her chest closed up the second it happened, and she eventually collapsed to the floor, which in retrospect was way too much drama. But when her mom picked her up from the nurse, Taylor couldn’t even find the words to tell her, just tears.

When finally her story came spilling out, over ice cream and Shirley Temples, her mom was quiet for a while. It wasn’t often that Elizabeth Preston had no words.

“He’s changing, Taylor,” she finally said.

“Obviously,” Taylor replied with a dizzying eye roll.

Elizabeth smirked and shook her head, “No. He is changing, Taylor. He needs to find himself and figure things out. And, honestly, sweetie, you probably don’t get what he is going through right now.”

Tears filled Taylor’s eyes. “You are supposed to tell me he is stupid,” she whispered.

“Aw, honey, I know. But I love Derrick—I can’t call him stupid,” Elizabeth said, pulling her daughter into a hug.

“I love him too,” Taylor said softly against her mother’s arm.

“And I think that is the one thing you and Derrick do have in common right now,” Elizabeth said. “Give him time, Taylor, I am sure he will come back around.”

And so Taylor waited: days, weeks, months went by, and she heard nothing from Derrick. He seemed to have wiped Taylor and anything she had ever meant to him from his brain. She would still see Marty, but Marty had her own friends and was allowed to do activities that Taylor never was. But still Taylor would go to the Fletcher home, but only when she was sure that Derrick wasn’t there. It was one thing for him to ignore her in public, but something else for him to pretend that she didn’t exist in a place that held so many amazing memories of them being friends.

But then Delia died.

When her mom told her the news, Taylor was broken-hearted, for herself, for her mother, and for the Fletcher family. “I have to go there, Taylor,” her mother told her.

“I want to come.”

Her mother hesitated, “Derrick is there,” she told Taylor. She knew Taylor never wanted to be there when he was, and her mother always did whatever she could to protect Taylor.

Now Taylor hesitated. “I still want to go,” she told her mother. Despite all the hurt he had put her through, for God only knew why, Taylor could not neglect these people she loved like family when they hurt.

So they went, going into the mansion through the kitchen and up to the family gathering room, where Marty and Simon were. Taylor launched herself onto Marty when she saw her while her mother went to Simon. The sound of crying and sorrow filled the room, but everyone was broken apart by the sound of a wail from down the hall.

Taylor scanned the room for an answer, but Marty just cried harder. Simon glared down the hall in the direction of the noise, and Taylor’s mother looked just as confused as she felt.

When another sound of agony followed by a crash came from down the hall again, realization crossed Elizabeth’s face. “Is that Derrick?” she asked Simon, who gave a quick nod, irritation all over his face. “I’ll go to him,” she said as she left the room.

Taylor continued to hold Marty and let her cry. She knew nothing she said could ease her pain or bring back her mother, but at least she could hold her and let her know she wasn’t alone. Taylor looked over and saw Simon at the windows overlooking the yard. His head and shoulders sagged, as if they were too heavy for him to hold up. Taylor had never seen Simon look so defeated. But when another wail came from down the hall, his posture changed from deflated to tense and agitated. He turned his head slightly to the noise, entirely stiff with the movement, and glowered in the direction of the sound.

“He’s been screaming since he came home,” Marty whispered to Taylor between hiccups. “He wasn’t here when she died.”

Taylor’s heart broke that he didn’t get to say good-bye to his mother. Derrick had never been great at dealing with things that bothered him or things that didn’t go his way. Mostly it was because the guilt ate him up.

“Taylor!”

Taylor stiffened as the same disembodied voice that had been wailing since she arrived now called out her name.

“Taylor! Please! I want to see her!”

Taylor’s breath came out in little pants as Derrick called out to her. Why was he calling her? She hadn’t spoken to him in years. He had pushed her out. Why would he call to her?

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