Page 85 of Stick Work

Vegas. Right.

I grab my phone, checking for a message from Taylor, but there’s nothing. Odd. She usually lets me know what she’s up to. Then again, she doesn’t have to. It’s not like we’re married.

Oh. Right. We are.

I look back up to find Kalen watching me. I should definitely agree to coffee. Kalen would find it weird if I didn’t, and besides, this is the perfect opportunity to tell him about the… mix-up. About how I plan to fix it.

“Yeah, sounds good,” I say, forcing a casual nod. “I’ll meet you there.”

The guys trickle out one by one, but I stay behind, needing a moment alone. How the hell do I play this? Joking might be my best bet. Make light of it, act like it’s no big deal. But what if Kalen isn’t laughing? What if he’s pissed that his sister will be married and divorced before she even graduates college?

Then again… maybe he wouldn’t be upset.

Maybe he’d actually like the idea of us together.

After all, Kalen trusts me. He’s trusted me with Taylor more times than I can count. He has to know I’d never do anything to hurt her. And yeah, she’s young. She still has school, still has her whole life ahead of her.

But I could be there for her. Support her. Love her.

A dangerous thought lodges itself in my chest, expanding like a bubble of hope. What if we don’t have to fix this? What if Kalen gives us his blessing, and this thing between Taylor and me… becomes real?

Jumping the gun much, dude?

Right. Where does Taylor stand in all of this? What is her choice?

She looked completely mortified when we found out the marriage was real, sure. But honestly, the way we are together? The way we feel? It’s never been like this for me before. Not with anyone. And I have a feeling it’s never been like this for her, either.

That thought chills me. Because she’s young. Because she still has so much of life to experience. Because I don’t want to be the reason she misses out on any of it. But maybe—just maybe—she doesn’t want to experience it without me.

I pull into Kalen’s driveway, my grip tightening around the steering wheel when I see both his car and Taylor’s already there. No turning back now. My stomach knots as I step out and make my way up the walkway. The house still feels familiar—because it was mine, too, for a while. Knocking would be weird. So I don’t.

“Hey,” I say as I step inside.

Sunlight spills across the living room floor, casting a warm glow over Taylor and Sahara, who are curled up on the couch. The moment I lay eyes on Taylor, I search for something—a sign, a hint, anything—but she’s avoiding my gaze, fidgeting with the coffee cup in her hands like it holds all the answers in the universe.

From the kitchen, the sound of movement catches my attention. A second later, Kalen emerges with two mugs, handing one to me.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“Come on. Let’s sit.”

I glance at Taylor again, trying to read her, trying to figure out how she wants to handle this. But she won’t look at me. Her fingers tremble slightly around the cup, her face pale, her hair pulled back like she didn’t have the energy to deal with it today. Something is off, something that has nothing to do with our marriage.

My stomach tightens. Is she sick again?

Kalen settles into his chair, but I stay standing, my focus locked on Taylor. “Hey… are you okay?” I ask, stepping closer.

“I…” She flicks a glance at Sahara, her chin quivering.

And just like that, my heart stops. I was right. This isn’t just about the marriage. She looks physically ill.

I set my coffee down and drop to my knees in front of her, taking her hand without hesitation. I don’t care that Kalen is right there, watching everything.

“Talk to me,” I urge, voice low. “What’s going on? Are you hurt? Sick?”

Before she can answer, the creak of Kalen’s chair breaks the silence.

“What’s this?” he asks.

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