Page 89 of Take Care, Taylor
“Whoa.” Her eyes widened at my tone, and she stepped back. “What happened?”
“He doesn’t exist anymore.” My voice cracked. “Want some coffee?”
She blinked.
“Great.” I turned away, grasping for normal. “I was in the middle of something, so…” My eyes landed on the package sticking out of her duffel bag. “I’ll open the mail later. Maybe we can get dinner or something?”
She just stared at me, like she could see every fracture I was trying to hide.
“The weather out here’s been really nice.” I forced a smile, ignoring the tears sliding down my cheeks. “There are kayaks and rocking chairs out back—you can use those.”
Without a word, she crossed the room and pulled me into her arms.
“I should’ve never slept with him… I hate him…” The words broke apart on my tongue.
Cecelia tightened her hold, her voice a whisper against my ear.
“You don’t hate him,” she said softly. “That’s the worst part.”
And she was right.
I dissolved into sobs, and she held me tighter, rubbing slow circles across my back while I shook apart in her arms.
TRACK 40. EXILE (5:16)
TAYLOR
Last day of the program
Ikept my eyes on the auditorium’s back doors, hoping Audrey would walk through them at any moment.
My coach and my agent were sitting in the front row, impatient for my final weekend here to be done so I could return full-time to the Bears.
“For the first time in the Postscript Scholars Program’s history,” the dean said at the mic, smiling, “we have an official tie for first place…”
The room collectively gasped, and I craned my neck as the back door opened.
No. Not Audrey—just a security guard.
“This year’s top scholars are Audrey Parker and Taylor Wolff!”
The room erupted in applause, and I forced myself to smile as I approached the lectern.
Bright cameras flashed while the dean hung a medal around my neck.
“Miss Parker was unable to join us today and will receive her award by mail,” he said. “Speaking of mail, if anyone has something they’d like us to forward to her, please bring it to the office by Friday. Now, onto the next set of awards…”
I tuned out the rest.
This should’ve been one of the happiest moments of my life, but without Audrey, all I felt was an ache that reached bone-deep.
I couldn’t fathom never kissing her again—never feeling the press of her lips, never having her body curl against mine at night.
The thought hollowed me out from the inside.
Later that night, I sent Audrey a text I knew she wouldn’t answer.
Then an email I knew she’d ignore.
