Finding Delaware (State of Us #1)

by Bree Wiley

“I do not understand this fucking game. Who enjoys escaping from the reality of paying rent and taxes by playing a game about paying rent and taxes?!” I raise my hand with a pencil, eyes still focused on my sketch. “Me.” Taylor scoffs. “Says the Poli-Sci major.” Blinking, I force myself to keep my gaze down instead of glancing up at him. How does he know I’m going for a Political Science degree? Logan may have mentioned something. Christian’s voice from that night at the rally replays in my head. “Baby boy never misses any. And if he does, he gets moody as fuck.” I honestly thought it was an exaggeration, but if it wasn’t? An uncomfortable feeling settles in my gut, and I shift around on the couch to displace it.

Handing the book back, his eyes shine as he smiles brightly at me. “You’re a real artist, Huck. I’m serious. Those are so good.” Damn, the pride in his eyes. It makes me feel… I hate the way it makes me feel.

Dinner is spent with the two of them poking fun at each other while Taylor chimes in, and that peaceful feeling starts to settle over me again. It’s kind of...easy spending time with them. Despite all the heavy stuff between Taylor and me, the vibe that all three of them put off is warm and inviting, like family. After moving to Cali, I spent a lot of time alone. Sure, I had my grandparents over the summer, who were amazing and took me on trips whenever possible. I had my roomie Shawn, who’s pretty chill and taught me to surf. A few friends from classes. I had my teammates, but they were just that; teammates. Coworkers. I never really hung out with any of them off the field. And then there were the boyfriends. One boyfriend after another, no relationship lasting longer than a year at most, because despite how hard I tried to make things work, I always felt...lonely. And fake. But I loved the ocean. A painful, almost homesickness chokes me up when I think about how much I miss that wide-open, churning vastness. Sitting on a surfboard, tossed about by something alive and free and more significant than any of my problems. But still. The sea never made me feel this way, even on its calmest days. And I don’t know how to handle it because I ran away from Utah in the first place to feel like this. So why is it hitting me now, here, of all places? Once dinner is cleaned up, Logan and Salem head upstairs while Taylor follows like a lost puppy. I stay on the couch, listening to thei...

It’s our final day at the cabin, and Logan left for the day with Salem. They borrowed my truck because Logan had some surprise or something for her, which means I’m stuck here alone. With Huckslee. On Valentine’s Day. Until they return later tonight. He’s currently downstairs on the couch, doing homework or whatever, while I’m up here on the floor in the loft staring at the ceiling. Trying to get my feelings in order, wishing I could go down there and climb on his lap again, but that’s a big ol’ negative because he’s been in a piss poor mood all morning. All weekend, really, despite the few smiles I’ve dragged out of him like the sun playing peek-a-boo during a storm. Fuck, he’s such a grump. Probably needs to get laid. Yeah, well, he can get in line because I’m the only one who’s touched my dick in like two months. Not really a record, seeing as how I spent six months in jail at one point, but it’s been many a year since I’ve gone this long without at least a blowjob, and it’s making me cranky as fuck. Not for lack of trying. Really, every time Christian brings a chick back from the Prospector, he tries to share, but I’m just not into it. Seems my shit only stands at attention lately when it involves the sulky fucker downstairs who hates me, so that’s just great. Hasn’t even touched me, and he owns this dick. How unfair is that?

Let’s be honest, my childhood was shit. And building snowmen when you’re a teenager sounds lame as fuck, but now I kind of want to do stuff with Huck that I’ve never done before. Like building snowmen and going ice fishing, apparently.

He squints with pursed lips at the monstrosity we made, and it’s so fucking cute that an overwhelming urge to press against those lips with my own hits me like a steamroller. His gaze swings to mine as he goes still, eyes darkening from whatever he sees on my features. We’re standing so close that I can see the flakes of snow gathering on his lashes, but it’s still too far. I want to feel his breath on my skin, feel its warmth soak into my bones. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaning in closer, gaze bouncing between his eyes and mouth as his nostrils flare. His chest hitches, gloved fingers clenching at his sides, and a small gasp leaves his lips when I get close enough for our noses to touch. I mean to capture it, to open my mouth against his and taste what I’ve been craving since he ordered me out of the shower four years ago. Before we can connect, though, he jerks back so hard that he nearly slips on the ice. On reflex, my hand shoots out to steady him, but he smacks it away. His cheeks are red, pupils dilated. Not in desire, no… In anger. Wrath. Pure, unadulterated rage. Shit. I fucked up. “Huckslee, wait!” I shout as he spins around and runs toward the cabin. It’s more of a fast shuffle, really, because of the ice, but I can see the tension in his back even through the snowsuit, chords taut in his neck. He gets inside before I do, and when I enter the cabin, I find him in the kitchen with his hands in his hair and shoulders heaving. “Hey, look, I’m sorry–” He whi...

The stepbrother I haven’t seen in a month after I violently throat fucked him and left him curled on the floor.

I slide back into my seat and pull out my phone, genuinely trying not to look over at Taylor, but as always, he’s like a gravitational constant pulling me in, and I can’t help it. The minute my eyes find him, I feel my mouth go dry. His denim jacket is gone, and a loose black tank top hangs from his shoulders. There are holes cut into the fabric on the sides, the tattooed skin of his ribs playing peek-a-boo as he racks up the pool balls, his inked biceps flexing, and the pink tips of his hair fall across his face. Fuck, he’s hot.

Why do I feel like this? Isn’t this what I wanted? For him to leave me alone? No, I wanted revenge. And I got it. But it feels like the cost for it was my goddamn soul. “Holy shit!” My gaze swings back over to Royce, who’s currently gaping at me with his eyes bugging out, a hand over his mouth. My brows slam together. “What?” “Still?” His hand drops to his chest, clutching it like a string of pearls. “Even after everything?” “Still what? What are you talking about?” He slides two shots over to me, shaking his head in disbelief. “Here, sweetie, you need these more than I do.” “What, why?” Sighing, I raise my gaze to the ceiling. “Just spit it out, Royce.” His eyes narrow as he jerks his head in Taylor’s direction. “You’re still in love with him.” Not a question. A statement. I open my mouth to refute that statement, but nothing comes out. Because I can’t. “He used to beat the shit out of you, call you names, totaled your car, and then outed you to your dad and everyone after you gave him your scholarship.” Royce sips his beer slowly, studying me. “I’m not one to judge, Huckslee, but that’s...wow.” “It’s fucking toxic,” I growl as I scrub my face, hanging my head. “Everything about this shit with him is toxic. And I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.” Royce blinks in surprise. “You? What did you do?” “I...I hurt him.” So much more than that, I took something from him. Something that didn’t belong to me. God, Taylor’s first time with a man, and that’s the experience I left him wi...

We’re not...we’re not anything to each other. Just each other’s first kiss and first love. First and only person to ever break your heart. And just like that, the anger is back, pulling me into its poison, eating away at whatever feelings I may have had toward Taylor ten minutes ago before I saw him banging some stranger in a dive bar bathroom. Fuck you, asshole.

Mixing liquor is never a good idea. The more Royce and I drink and dance, though, the less I give a shit. Whatever booze I threw up is quickly replaced, and I feel Taylor’s eyes on me the entire time. Blondie is nowhere to be seen, but he’s watching me with an expression I can’t read whenever I glance over at the pool table. I fucking hate it. I fucking hate him. For making me feel this way. For never getting out of my head. For hurting me. But mostly, I hate myself for hurting him back. The longer the night goes on, the drunker I get. I don’t even think we finish all the shots, vaguely remembering Royce handing them out like candy. I think he quit drinking a while ago, but I can’t seem to stop. The longer Taylor stares, the more I want to forget him. Forget his bright eyes that can’t seem to pick a fucking color, forget the way he kisses even though it’s never left my mind in over four years, forget the joy on his face from building a fucking snowman. Even the feel of his mouth on my cock, which is so sick and twisted that I’m even thinking about that. Sick and twisted. Toxic. He’s no good for you, Royce said. I’m no good for him. We’re no good for each other, and yet I Can’t Let Him Go.

“Wake the fuck up, Huckslee!” Next thing I know, I’m being shaken violently, and I peel my lids open to glare up into two blue-green eyes. “Ah, what the hell?” My head is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. “Stop shakin’ me!” Taylor stands above me with his hands on my shoulders, brows pinched. His teeth are sunk into his bottom lip, gaze bouncing around my face in a panic-stricken way, and hell, if that doesn’t sober me right up. “Why are you sleeping out here?!” His voice is shrill, loud enough against the quiet night that I flinch. “Where the fuck did Royce go?” “Wasn’t s-sleeping.” Frowning up at him, I lift my phone to his face. “W-was waiting for my Uber.” He looks at it for a few seconds, reading the screen, before his expression hardens. “Jesus Christ, Huck.” Grabbing my phone out of my hand, he turns it around so that I can see. “Your driver called and texted twenty minutes ago looking for you. Pretty sure they’re gone by now.” “What?!” Shit. Does that mean... I’ve been sleeping against this building for almost half an hour, looking like a homeless person? In the cold? “Fuck, dude.” Now that I notice it, my teeth chatter as my body shivers violently. Taylor stares at me briefly before releasing my shoulders, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Check your pockets. Make sure no one robbed you while you were out.” Ah, hell. I pat myself down, pulling out my wallet with frozen fingers to ensure nothing is amiss. When everything is accounted for, I sigh in relief a...

Oh my god. How does he know that? I don’t even know that. Fuck, I wish I knew that.

Taylor leads me to a door just off the kitchen, and I freeze when I realize I’m about to walk into his bedroom. A place I’ve never entered, a boundary I never crossed. Even when we lived together. The room is decently sized, with a desk in the corner holding a laptop and a lava lamp. There’s a queen-sized bed against a wall completely covered in photos, so many that I find myself floating over to look. Most of them are of him, Salem, and Christian, posing with silly faces or in front of cool shit. Doing cool things, like climbing a rock wall or snowboarding. Some of Matt and Xed with a little girl who must be Matt’s daughter. There are a few with people I’ve never seen before, but one picture in particular catches my eye. It’s closest to the bed, near enough to be in his direct line of sight if he turns onto his side. Squinting, I lean over to study it and feel my heart skip when I recognize where it’s from. It’s him and me, seventeen years old at our parents’ wedding, dressed in tuxedos and bruised all to hell. I have a black eye and his nose is two sizes too big. “It’s the only picture we have together, so…” He clears his throat behind me, voice uneven, and I turn to watch him unlatch a wire cage in the corner, where a rabbit is making noise. “Bathroom is through that door, fresh pack of toothbrushes in the cabinet. Feel free to use one. And by feel free, I mean please do. No offense, Huck, but your breath is rank.” An embarrassed laugh leaves my throat as I head into th...

“Whatever happened to Lasagna?” His eyes darken as he sighs deeply, turning toward a photo of an orange ball of fur on his nightstand. “Ah, pasta cat. May she rest in peace.” I don’t know why, but the sadness in those blue-green irises fucking guts me, so I lean over his knees and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his stomach. “I’m sorry, Taylor.” His breath hitches as he sets BB on the bed before lightly touching my shoulder. “Thanks. It’s okay. She was old. I gave her a good life.” Still, my hold on him tightens, silently cursing the animal gods for blessing us with pets that live for far too short a time. I’m definitely more sober now than I was before, but the effects of the alcohol are still swimming in my system, and I’m a sad sap when I drink. “Not just for Lasagna,” I mumble against his shirt, breathing him in, “for everything. All of it. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He’s quiet for a long time, so long that I don’t think he’ll respond, but his arms slowly come around me as his fingers gently entwine with my curls. “I hurt you, too.” Pressing a kiss to his sternum, I shake my head. “What I did was so much worse.” “Huckslee, I broke your arm,” he scoffs, “nearly drowned you, crashed your car, embarrassed you in front of our entire senior class, and beat up your dad. Not to mention all the other fucked up shit I did in high school. What you did to me was pretty mild in comparison.” “Don’t do that.” Leaning back, I frown at him, finding his gaze above...

Huckslee’s entire body is stiff as a board, muscles so tense that it looks painful. His hands fist the sheets, bracing for a blow he feels I’m about to deliver. And in a way, I guess I am. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, the terror in my veins still present from when I found him sitting on the ground outside the Prospector, looking gray as a ghost. Not breathing. Fuck, I thought I killed him. Again. Taking a shaky breath, I moisten my lips and close my eyes, needing to block out the sight of him if I’m going to get through this. Because he’s here, and he’s finally willing to listen to me. I’m going to tell him all of it. Even the hard parts. “Huckslee, I’ve been in love with you since the eighth grade.” My skin prickles under his gaze, but I keep my eyes closed. “I didn’t realize it until after I crashed your car, though. But before I get to that, there’s something else I need to say.” Another breath. “I used to...I used to start fights with you so that I could hide the bruises from my dad. Blame it on you. In case anyone came asking, you know? Like that time freshman year. I know you think it was only my bike I cared about, but if he got caught, I knew I’d get taken away. And Maisie proved she didn’t want me, so I figured they’d send me here to the city where I’d never see Christian or the guys again. And if he found out there was even an inkling of me being interested in guys, the same thing would happen. No more motocross, no more Christian, no more anything th...

The first thing I notice when the sun wakes me is that the bed has grown cold. There’s a vacancy inside me that wasn’t there last night, a gaping void in my being where something vital should have been. When I roll over with a groan and pat the sheets next to me, I find them empty. No warmth, like I’ve been here alone for a while. If it weren’t for the button stuck to the side of my face from ripping Huck’s shirt, I would have believed that last night was a fever dream. The words he’d said when I asked him if we were doing this thing between us pop into my head. Ask me again in the morning. I knew he’d run. He always does. I expected it. So why does it feel like I’m falling apart? BB starts snorting angrily under the bed, asking for breakfast now that she knows I’m awake, and I rub my eyes with the back of my palms before sitting up. Pain shoots down my arm, collarbone popping, matching the ache that’s in my chest as I swing my feet to the ground and busy myself with feeding her. He knew. The whole time he was kissing me and giving me the best pleasure of my life, he knew he’d be gone when I woke up. The reality burns bitterly on my tongue, still heavy with his taste. Once again, Huckslee Davis breaks my fucking heart. And I can’t even blame him because I was the idiot who gave it to him when I should have known better. After taking a piss and grabbing a quick shower to wash the scent of him off my skin, I pad out into the kitchen. And come to a dead halt when I see Christ...

Like thoughts about the fact that Taylor saved my fucking life, and I assaulted him after disappearing for four years. And then I made out with him, sucked the soul out of his dick after he admitted he was in love with me, then disappeared again. Cue the self-loathing.

What’s up? What’s up is that I haven’t stopped thinking about the way your lips feel or the way your cock tastes, motherfucker.

No response. I type out a quick ‘good luck, I hope you win’ because it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk to me, and I don’t blame him. Yeah, I tried reaching out via Instagram, but I didn’t know he doesn’t even read his social media messages. And I shouldn’t have left him in the first place, but I was just...confused. Ashamed, not because of what we did together but because of how I treated him. His dad almost killed him and hurt him so bad he was in the hospital for a month, but I just ignored him. It was easier to believe he was the villain than to try and understand him, just like how our parents are acting now. I’ve noticed in my short twenty-two years of life that people are comfortable taking things at face value. No one hardly ever digs beneath the surface, too afraid they might delve too deep and find something that makes them uncomfortable. I should know; I put on a show for years that nobody noticed. Nobody except Taylor. But just like everyone else, I saw his asshole kid exterior and automatically decided he was a bad egg, even when he showed me his true self in eighth grade. When he changed into a dick, I never questioned the switch. I should have known something was up. I should have fucking known.

My hands reach for the sketchbook of their own volition, and I find myself flipping through the new pieces I’ve been working on. Drawings for Taylor and Christian’s brand, even though it was never brought up again after February. It’s given me something to do, though. Keeps my mind occupied. Flipping open the book, I lief through my latest sketches, feeling heartsick. That night, after Taylor fell asleep, I studied every piece of ink on his skin, mapping them to memory. After a heavy FaceTime with my therapist, I started drawing them—renditions of them anyway, in designs I think Taylor would like based on his t-shirt choices. I learned a lot of things that night when I studied his body, just from his tattoos and the things I noticed around his room. He seems to like old movies, like Young Frankenstein and Little Shop of Horrors. Judging from the few books on his shelf and the cosmos inked onto his arm, he loves sci-fi and space. There are constellations down his spine and a UFO abducting a cow on his ribcage that made me chuckle. His other arm has trees and mountains on it. I could tell there was more on his legs, but since we were both clothed from the waist down, I couldn’t see those. The ones on his right knuckles are a mystery, Japanese letters I know nothing about. His left hand has a skull tattooed on the back of it. The memory of those inked fingers wrapped around his cock sends a heated wave through me, and I reach down to adjust myself. Fuck, he looked perfect. Li...

Taylor: Speaking of asses… My stomach flips, and I move from the desk to the air mattress, waiting for his response. Taylor: I miss yours. And you are one for leaving me. Goddammit. Pulling up his number, I hit the call button, holding my breath as it rings. When he picks up on the fifth round, he sounds flustered. “Hey?” His deep, husky voice sends a current to my dick, and I chuckle. “Hey. Why do you sound so confused?” “Uh,” he coughs a dry laugh, “besides the occasional call with Salem, I don’t think I talk to anyone on the phone. Like ever. I’m strictly a texter.” That makes me smile. “Is it weird?” “Little bit.” There’s a pause, some rustling in the background. “Not bad, though.” I wish I could see his face. An odd sound comes over the line, like a swallow, prompting me to ask him what he’s up to. “Eating a HotPocket,” he mumbles, clearly with his mouth full. I snort. “Do you ever eat real food?” “Yeah, on Wednesdays when Salem takes pity on us and comes over to cook.” Sounds about right. “How is she doing?” “Eh. Been better.” Sighing, I flop back onto my pillow. “Yeah. Logan, too.” He grunts, and we’re both quiet while he eats. Usually, the sound of someone chewing in my ear sets me off, but with Taylor, it’s different. Like it’s proof he’s still there, even after all I’ve done to drive him away. “So what had to be said over the phone that you couldn’t text?” He asks finally, presumably done with his food. “Well, first, I-I kind of missed your voice,” I stammer, fee...

Shit. What do I call him? “My...Huckslee,” I finish lamely.

For the most part, the fact that Maisie and Aaron don’t acknowledge my existence doesn’t bother me. Hasn’t for a long time. But there are still those moments where I’ll watch other people with their parents and wonder, what must that be like?

“Party at our place tonight,” Matty announces, grinning down at Xed, who looks like he was not informed of this plan, “to celebrate. Been too long since we had one.” Christian lets out a whoop and jumps from the truck as Hannah squeaks in Matt’s arms. “Me too, Daddy?” “Sorry, bean.” He kisses the top of her head. “Your momma wants to see you tonight, remember?” The way her little face falls has me breaking apart. “But I don’t want to,” she whispers, burrowing into his chest, and he tightens his arms around her. “You haven’t seen her in so long, though. Don’t you want to spend time with her?” She shakes her head and reaches for Xed, tears glistening in her eyes, and I have to look away before I overstep and tell her she can have whatever the hell her little heart desires. It’s not my place; I’m not her parent. But fuck, seeing her so miserable like this breaks my damn heart.

I feel for the first time in years that everything is going right. Like maybe I deserve to be happy, after all.

Well, this is different from how I expected the night to go. Did I say something? Do something to upset him? Or...is it because Owen is here looking at him like he’s a grand prize? “Come on, cariño,” Christian grabs the back of my tank top, pulling me to the living room, “you’re my pong partner. If you choose someone else, I’ll scream.” Huck’s eyes flash to mine briefly as I’m being hauled away, but then he turns back to face Owen while they continue their little chat, and jealousy burns deep, unfamiliar inside my gut. I’ve never been the possessive type. Hell, all of my relationships have been open, which is why Christian has pretty much slept with every girl I’ve ever dated and vice versa. I enjoy sharing. But when it comes to Huckslee? He’s mine. Always has been, always will be, and I’ll be damned if he thinks he’s going to run away again now that I finally have him. I’ll tie the fucker up if I have to.

“Stop, hold the fuck up,” I snap, cutting Owen off mid-sentence. Everyone looks over at me in surprise. “What the fuck is happening right now?!” Xed’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?” “You know damn well what I mean!” Pointing between him and Matt, I squint accusingly. “Something is going on between you two. I know it.” Matty’s eyes bug out of his skull, jaw dropping while Xed’s shoulder tense. He swings his gaze to Huck for some reason, but I move my finger over to Salem and Logan. “And you two! I’m fucking sick of this shit. It’s been three months. Get your shit together!” Salem glares at me with a hiss. “Mind your business, Taylor.” “No. Something’s broken in this friend group right now, and we’re going to fucking fix it.” Arya gapes at me as I grab Xed and Matty, shoving them onto the couch. Then I go after Salem, who already has her ass halfway to the stairs. Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I drag her snarling and screaming to the sectional, where I flop down with her on my lap. “Come here,” I grind out, crooking a finger at Logan while she fights tooth and nail to get free. He looks utterly shaken but obeys, shuffling over to take a tentative seat next to me, where I squish her down in between us. Christian simply chuckles, leaning against the wall as he pulls Arya into his side, and Xed curses at me under his breath. “You’re a nosy bitch, Taylor,” he growls, “you know that?” “Well, if everyone in my life would talk shit out instead of pretending li...

Fuck. Three months. That’s all I have until Matty and Hannah leave. And Huckslee… My chest feels like it’s been kicked in. I just got him back. After four years of pining from a distance, longer if you include high school, I finally get a chance to have him, and yet it’s ending before it can truly begin. Today was supposed to be a good day. A day of victory. And yet, I feel so lost.

“Is this it, then?” He blinks. “It?” Nodding, I pinch the cigarette between my fingers and gesture between our bodies. “Yeah, it. Us. Is this the end of the line for Taylor and Huckslee?” “Do you want it to be?” His throat flexes as he swallows, a pained expression morphing his features, and I pause for a minute. “You tell me.” He closes the distance between us slowly, coming close enough for me to feel the heat of his skin. “Did you mean what you texted earlier? Saying I’m yours?” Studying his face, my gaze bounces between those beautiful, starry eyes and full, pink lips. “Yes. That doesn’t change anything.” “It changes everything.” He dips his head as if to kiss me, but I bring my hand up between our mouths, earning a flash of hurt to bolt across his features. “You’ve been drinking, Huck. Alcoholic, remember?” A slow smile pulls at his cheeks, amusement dancing in his pupils. “I’ve only been drinking Diet Coke.” And then his mouth is on mine, a surprised gasp leaving my throat. My hands come up to fist his shirt, pulling him against me as his fingers tangle in my hair. Our tongues glide and sweep together, the taste of the soda on his lips secondary to his own sweet, addicting flavor. A desperate moan vibrates his chest, and I drown in it, letting it drag me under where I’d gladly be crushed by the weight of it. His palms cup my face as the kiss turns slow and lazy, our mouths molding together while I run my fingers over his chest, ribs, and back. When we part for air, H...

Tracing a line of kisses down his throat, I pause when my mouth rests against the junction between his neck and shoulder. “Maryland?” He’s silent for a moment. “Yeah. Four-year contract, minimum. I declared in January, so it's too late to back out.” “That’s very far away.” “I know.” His fingers find my chin as he tips my face up, dark eyes searching mine. “You said you meant it, calling me yours. And you’re mine, too. But whatever this is between us, I understand that it’s new. I can’t ask you to wait for me or enter into something long-distance–” I cut him off, holding up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, wait, back up. Why does it sound like you’re...” What the hell am I supposed to say? Breaking up with me? “Why does it sound like you’re ending this?” “We don’t even know what this is, Taylor,” he sighs, dropping his forehead to mine again, “or if this will even work. If we’ll be good together. So far, our track record sucks.” “So you are ending it,” I state flatly, feeling like my heart just split open. Huck pauses, pressing his warm cheek to mine, blood pulsing so hard I can feel it through his body. There’s such a long, heavy silence that I don’t think he’ll speak, but then: “I don’t want to.” A desperate whisper across the shell of my ear, sending goosebumps over my flesh. “Then don’t.” I drag his mouth to mine, stealing a slow kiss. “Don’t let this end before it even starts.” “Maybe it’s better if we do,” he murmurs against my lips. “Maybe it’ll hurt less this way.” Deep down, I...

Considering his past relationships, that possessiveness is a surprise, but I’d be lying if I said it isn’t hot as hell.

Christian throws an arm behind Arya and Taylor. “I’m in, too. Let’s get sexy.” “Let’s not,” Taylor groans around his food. Christian’s fingers rest on his neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and my gut churns slightly. I’ve noticed how much the two like to touch. But, then again, Taylor seems to enjoy touching everyone. Not in a pervy way but more in...a comfort-seeking way. Physical touch is definitely his love language. Still, the fact that he and his best friend have shared women and have seen each other naked…kind of bothers me.

“What the hell was that, Huck?” His tone is livid. With a sigh, my head falls back against the wall. “I didn’t do it, okay? I didn’t kiss him.” “No, but you wanted to. I saw it in the way you hesitated.” “I hesitated because of Logan’s comment. It got me all up in my head, and I’m sorry.” His jaw ticks at the corners. “About us being stepbrothers?” “Yeah.” There’s a moment of silence where he watches me closely. “Does that...does it bother you?” The anger in his voice is gone, replaced by a vulnerability that has me closing the gap between us to place kisses along the side of his face. “No, I’m not bothered by that, Tay,” I breathe into his skin. “It’s not like we were raised that way. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about how Logan will react.” “I don’t give a fuck what he thinks.” Taylor’s fists bunch in my shirt, lips pressed to my throat. “Or what anyone thinks.” “I know. But I do.” Closing my eyes briefly, I pull back to look down into his wide eyes. “I worry what he’ll do if he finds out. If my dad finds out.” He goes still. “If? Not when?” “Maybe when. Three months, remember?” A flash of hurt in his eyes guts me, but it’s gone in an instant as he leans in for a sweltering kiss. “Right. Trial by fire. So far, I think we’re doing great.” “Great?” Snorting against his lips, I slip my fingers under his tank top to caress his lower back. “Storming off and slamming doors is far from great.” “You caught me in a weak moment,” he says, burying his face in my ches...

“So, are blowjobs out of the question, too?” His bottom lip juts out. “Because I might just die if I don’t get to taste your cum tonight.” Holy hell.

When I get to the driver’s side, I glance up the street to see their backs nearing the corner, but Taylor turns around to meet my gaze and blows a kiss, making me chuckle. I really, really don’t want to leave him tonight. So why should I? Who says the night must end because our friends want to go home? While Logan is distracted trying to put on his seatbelt with drunk fingers, I pull up our Delaware chat to send him a message. Me: After you drop them off, come get me? We can drive around in your truck and hang out. If you want. I don’t know why I was nervous that he’d turn me down because his reply is instant, making my damn breath catch. Taytay: I want. See you in about thirty, baby.

It’s ridiculous how excited I am to see Taylor since we just parted ways twenty minutes ago. I feel like I’m addicted to him, intoxicated by his presence. I just want to breathe him in, hold him inside my lungs and never exhale, as if his very existence could give me life.

By the time I come back down, Taylor is waiting on the curb in his truck with a big, crooked grin, snapback on backward. “I’m here to pick up my date,” he calls from the open window. “Have you seen him? Super tall, sexy curls, plays football?” “Haven’t seen him, but I’m happy to take his place.” Hopping into the passenger seat, I lean over for a kiss. “I charge by the hour, though. Hundred bucks.” “Damn, that’s cheap. I can swing that,” he chuckles as he pulls out of the parking lot, and my chest swells. It feels...odd to be flirting with him like this. Not in a bad way, but freeing. It should have been this way between us from the start.

“So, that word Christian calls you, cariño? What does it mean?” “It’s a term of endearment,” his expression softens, “like honey or darling. His mom has always called me that, and he started doing it when I moved in with them in high school. Started as a joke, mostly, but then it stuck.” My chest pinches at his words. “You’re super close with his family.” “Yep. Pretty sure I spent more time at his house than mine growing up.” That makes sense. As tumultuous as his home life was, I’m sure Taylor used Christian’s place as an escape. A sanctuary. For what it’s worth, I’m glad he had somewhere to go that made him feel safe.

Out of all the guys I’ve kissed, none of them make me feel the way Taylor does, like his arms are the only place I belong. As if I could build a home inside his embrace and live in it forever. Ever since that night when he kissed me on the track behind my house, it’s a feeling I searched for in every relationship I’ve ever had, and they always come up short.

Goddamn. That’s it. I’m wholly gone for this boy. And it terrifies me.