Taylen waves off whatever Finn’s saying, his movements loose and uncoordinated. His Henley has slipped to reveal the edge of a tattoo I can’t make out from this distance. I watch as he reaches for his glass again, missing slightly before correcting.
Finn’s protectiveness is obvious in the way he shifts closer, trying to block Taylen from the rest of the bar’s view. But Taylen just laughs again, the sound brittle and wrong, and signals for another round.
My feet are moving before I think too hard about it. Whatever’s going on, whatever’s driven Taylen to drink himself into this state, I can’t just watch from the sidelines. Not when he’s Jackson’s little brother. Not when he’s…whatever he is to my brother.
Finn spots me first, relief flooding his features. “Bastian, perfect timing,” he says, cutting off whatever Taylen was about to say.
Taylen’s head swivels toward me, his eyes taking too long to focus. “Well, if it isn’t the progi…pro…prodi…gal…prodigal farmer,” he drawls, words slurring slightly.
“Tay,” Finn warns, but Taylen just laughs, the sound sharp and hollow. “It’s time for you to go home.”
“Sssnot. Ssstime for another round. I want the Christmas beer because it’s my favrorite.”
Finn sighs and turns to me. “He can’t drive like this. Usually, he’d crash with me, but that’s not possible right now. Can you take him home?”
I step close enough to smell the beer on Taylen’s breath. “Sure.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Taylen argues, but his attempt to stand ends with him grabbing the table for balance.
“No,” I agree, reaching out to steady him. “But you do need a ride.”
His body is warm against mine as I help him up, and I try not to think about how perfectly he fits against my side. If he’s my brother’s boyfriend, I definitely need these thoughts to take a long walk off a short pier. It’s one thing to stay away from Taylen to respect someone who isn’t here, but another to consider the feelings of someone who is very much here and who I would do anything for.
Finn mouths a silent “thank you” as he gathers his things, already pulling out his phone. “Don’t worry about his truck,” Finn says. “I’ll have someone bring it by in the morning.”
“Sure. Does he have a coat?” I ask.
Finn looks at me and shakes his head like he’s had this conversation too many times.
I slip off my coat and drape it around Taylen’s shoulders.
“’M not cold,” Taylen protests, but he doesn’t shrug it off. The coat hangs loose on his smaller frame, sleeves covering his hands completely.
“Sure you’re not,” I murmur, keeping one arm around his waist as we navigate toward the door. He stumbles slightly, and I tighten my grip. “Easy there.”
Getting him into the truck proves to be an exercise in patience and upper-body strength. He’s all loose limbs and uncoordinated movements, like a puppet with half its strings cut.
“Seatbelt,” I remind him once he’s finally settled, but his coordination is shot. I lean across him to pull the belt across his chest, trying not to notice how his breath catches or the way his eyes track my movements.
“You smell good,” he says quietly, so close I can feel the words against my ear. “Like…like wood smoke and something else.”
I close the passenger door and lean against the truck for a second. The chill of the night doesn’t do much to stop my body’s reaction to being so close to him.
You need to get a fucking grip, Sebastian.
I take a deep, steadying breath and go around the truck to the driver’s seat.
As I start the engine, Taylen slumps against the window and pulls my coat tighter around his body. Is he sniffing it?
The drive passes in relative silence, broken only by Taylen’s occasional mumbles and the soft country station playing on the radio. I keep glancing over at him, worried he might get sick, but he just stares out at the passing streetlights.
As I focus on the road ahead, my mind goes into a different space.
The last time I was at Taylen’s house was the day I left for a tour and went to say goodbye to my best friend. That was thelast time I saw Jackson. Every time I think of that day, I wish I’d given him a tighter hug, looked into his eyes a little longer. Fuck, I wish for things that have no point being wished for because nothing could have changed what happened.
The memory sits heavy in my chest as I pull onto the shared track leading to the farms. Taylen’s breathing has evened out beside me, his face peaceful in a way it never is when he’s awake.
I debate the right call. Taking him home means dealing with pain I’m not ready to face. But the alternative…
