Taylor’s whole body is tense, like he’s trying to stave off the pain by firing every muscle he has because relaxing hurts too much. I had a migraine once and remember deploying a similar tactic.
“Sit up just enough to swallow these.” I hold my hand out, and when he makes no joke about swallowing, Iknowhe’s in pain.
As he leans forward to take the pills, I slide onto the couch behind him, letting him lay his head in my lap. He lets out a grunt as he tries to get comfortable, and I begin massaging his scalp, his face, and the parts of his neck and shoulders I can reach.
It’s a thing of honor and beauty to be someone he trusts in this moment. To be the person whose hands he needs to relieve his pain.Let me be what you need in this moment.
Well, I’ll be damned.
Maybe we can be good for each other.
Taylor says nothing, but his muscles slowly begin to relax beneath my touch.
I lose track of time, solely focused on watching his muscles loosen one by one, tracing shapes and letters on his lineless forehead and cheeks as he sleeps on me peacefully, when suddenly the back door crashes open, making me murderous.
Thankfully, Taylor doesn’t stir.
“Boss?” Phil yells from the kitchen.
“Phillip!”I shout in a muted whisper. “Lower your fucking voice!”
Phil comes into the living room a second later. “Why are we whisperi…” he trails off as he spots Taylor in my lap. Phil’s eyes hold a thousand questions.
“It’s a long story. He has a concussion. Jet-skiing accident. It was my boat’s wake he was trailing.”
Phil nods his head. “That was lucky, I guess.”
“Yeah. Sorry I abandoned you guys out there, but he’s in a lot of pain and I couldn’t leave him.”
“It’s all good,” Phil says, keeping his eyes on me and free of judgement. “Javi got the wires in. You want us to go ahead with the light fixtures and the fan?”
“Please,” I reply. Phil nods and turns to go. “Hey, Phil?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll give you and Jav my cut for this job, but, uh, I probably won’t be much help until he’s better.”
Phil nods at Taylor. “You take care of him; we’ll take care of the patio.”
Phil’s easy answer and acceptance of what he sees before him give me a glimmer of hope. Like maybe this twenty-year age gap and sudden same-sex attraction aren’t all that strange after all.
But that’s because Phil knows me. He knows my story. He knows how hurt, damaged, and lonely I am. The rest of the world will see a predator. A grown man with a sick attraction. They’ll call him a midlife crisis or a cry for help.
I’m growing more certain by the day that Taylor is neither of those things for me.
Chapter 22
Taylor
It was clear by four p.m. that I still shouldn’t be left alone, and instead of asking, Knoxtoldme I’d be coming back to his place again.
I didn’t argue, and he was nice enough to grab the things I’d had at my parents’.
My headache comes in waves. The medication helps, but if I go longer than four hours without it, the pressure in my brain makes my eyeballs feel like they’re going to pop out.
Apparently, screens are bad for concussions, so watching a movie is out, and Knox has been fielding texts from Livvy, who seems grateful for the updates, but is still being standoffish, based on her lack of exclamation points and emojis.
I’m basically useless, but Knox doesn’t complain. And I still don’t have much of an appetite—mostly because sitting up makes the room spin—but Knox makes me a bowl of noodle soup, and I agree to give it a try.
