Chapter 39
CHAPTER 39
F or the first time in two and a half years, I call out of work.
I need time to think.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I silence my phone, ignoring the calls and texts popping up in quick succession. I’m not ready to face the man on the other end of the line. I will be. But, first, I have to take care of myself.
Because for the first time in two and a half weeks, I have found my voice.
Words spill onto one blank page after the other. Black bleeds through the white, my cluttered thoughts coming almost too quick for my fingers to follow. And out of nothing, a story begins to take shape.
I write of a fairy girl whose wings were stolen in the dead of night. She is whisked on a perilous quest to retrieve them, facing obstacles she spent her entire life believing herself too weak to overcome. Along the way, she befriends a monstrous boy who offers to help her find her wings. Only after falling in love does she learn his secret. The monster was once a fairy himself. He was cursed to live the rest of his days in the form of a beast so all the realm might see what lived inside his heart. The reason for his curse? Stealing another’s wings.
I write for days straight, until a draft sits finished upon my desk. But this isn’t a story meant for the screen. The truth is as plain as it is terrible. I can’t give the best thing I’ve written in years to the Havens, nor to anyone else in the industry. This story isn’t meant to be a screenplay.
I’m not sure any of the stories I want to tell are.
There’s a pit in my stomach but I don’t let it paralyze me. Because it isn’t alone. Deep within me, I feel the first flutterings of hope as well.
At last, I know what I have to do.
My heart skips a beat when I spot him.
Taylor makes his way inside the cafe, skimming the room for me. When our eyes lock, I wonder if I’ve been too hasty. I felt so confident dialing his number and asking him to meet me here. But there’s enough anger in his gaze to pull my spine taut.
It isn’t until he’s paces away that I recognize the other emotion simmering beneath it.
Worry.
“Ayla,” he breathes, coming to a stop in front of my table.
I think about rising and pulling him into a hug. I think about flashing him a shy smile. But I find myself incapable of doing either. Instead, I gesture at the seat across from me.
“Thank you for meeting me,” I say in a quiet voice.
Taylor pulls out the chair, eyes searching my face all the while. I drink him in, a familiar ache constricting my chest. Not the ire I once mistook it for. Now, I can name the sensation. Longing. I look away, steeling myself for what has to come next.
Before Taylor has the chance to speak, I push a white envelope across the table. “That’s for you,” I murmur. Taylor’s brows are creased as he begins to pull out the slip of paper. His eyes shoot to mine after he reads the first line.
“No,” he all but growls. “Ayla, absolutely not.”
I take a steadying breath before I begin. “I don’t deserve the trip after what I did to you. Please make sure the Havens get that.” It’s a five-sentence note, explaining while I’ll be forfeiting the chance to attend their writing retreat.
Taylor crumples the note in his fist. “Isn’t this a bit extreme?” he asks in a rough voice. “You’ve held up your side of the bargain just fine.”
But this isn’t about the bargain. “I could’ve seriously hurt you, Taylor. If you’d eaten one of those brownies and anyone found out, you could’ve been kicked off the team.”
Taylor’s brows lift and I don’t understand why amusement flickers across his face. “That was the last game of the season, Al. My basketball career was already over.”
The end of his sentence rings in my head. “I ruined basketball for you, didn’t I?” I ask in whispered horror. “Am I the reason you didn’t play in college?”
He doesn’t ask how I know that. I suppose after what I admitted to him, he can put the pieces together.
“I didn’t try out for the college basketball team because there was no point,” he says, and there it is again, a hint of laughter in his voice. “All the guys there were like seven feet tall. It’s not like I was going to go pro. High school basketball was a hobby, a sport to beef up my resume. That’s all.”
“I poisoned you,” I whisper, voice cracking.
“Almost.” This time, he does laugh. The smile he flashes me is downright disorienting. “I didn’t eat a brownie, remember? Only a handful of guys tried them and I don’t think Rose had her measurements quite right because they all felt fine. It was just that one kid with an allergy that got unlucky.” When my eyes go wide, he quickly backtracks. “And he was fine, too! I mean, he broke out in hives, which was scary. But one antihistamine later and he was all good. He even played in the fourth quarter.”
I blink, trying to digest his words. “But you hated me,” I whisper. “Ever since you started working for the Havens. I know you did.”
Taylor leans back in his seat. He runs a hand through his hair, a rueful smile on his face. “I think I was a Junior in college when I stumbled on a photo of you and Rob together. I never saw you again after that game, couldn’t figure out why you’d try to drug the team. But there you were—grinning next to my high school rival. That kid was mean, Al. Super aggressive on and off the court. He took it hard every time we beat them. All the pieces came together—at least, I thought they did. I assumed he’d gotten his girlfriend to drug us, try to ruin our last game. Honestly, I thought you were a total nut job. And then, there you were, standing across from me on my first day of work…”
His voice trails off and I replay the scene. “Oh, my god,” I whisper when it comes to me. “I made brownies. When I offered you one, you probably thought…”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Not gonna lie, it brought me right back to high school. I didn’t exactly trust you after that, but I didn’t hate you. If anything, I was pissed about how much I didn’t hate you.”
I’m shaking my head. “I totally destroyed your trust in people. I ruined your life, Taylor.”
He catches me by the wrist, ironing out my palm until he can fit it into his hand. “Do you really think I would have done the things we did with someone who ruined my life?”
His low voice has a blush stealing across my cheeks. He’s doing a great job making me feel better. And that makes everything worse. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Kind of think that’s my call,” he drawls, now busy playing with the rings on my fingers. “But you’re right. There’s one thing you still need to do to make things right.”
I snap straight, try to tug my hand out of his, but Taylor holds firm. “Anything. I’ll do anything!”
He brings my hand up to his cheek, settling his weight against my palm before lifting his eyes to mine. “Tell me what you meant the other day. About being in love with me.”
Well. Except for that.
Until now, I’d been doing a remarkable job repressing the last truth I blurted out. Something tells me Taylor hasn’t stopped thinking about it.
I clear my throat, make another attempt to pull my hand away. Taylor closes his other palm around my wrist, holding me hostage.
“Well, you know…” I stumble over my words, searching for something, anything that will make this moment less excruciating. But all I have left in my arsenal is honesty.
“Yeah, okay,” I breathe. “Okay. So I maybe had a teeny tiny crush on you in high school.”
“Teeny tiny,” Taylor repeats. He brings his thumb over my knuckles, idly tracing my skin. “And that’s why you made me brownies?”
“I made you blondies .” There’s more than a hint of exasperation in my tone. “Yeah. I heard they were your favorite.” Heard from his own lips, on one of the many occasions I hung back after a game just to spend a little more time in his orbit. But he doesn’t need to know that.
He blinks, and an incredulous look sweeps over his features. “You made me blondies. Because you liked me.”
“You were cute, okay? And good at basketball, and unfailingly nice. And, really, there’s no accounting for teenage girls’ taste, so—” I take a breath, realizing I’ve been rambling. Taylor’s eyes are crinkled at the sides, and though he holds our joined hands over his mouth, there’s no hiding his smile. “It was a harmless crush! Stop grinning, Hedlund, or I swear I’ll have to wipe that stupid smirk off your face—”
He starts to laugh, which only stokes my temper. I’m pushing out of my seat when Taylor gives my hand a quick yank. And then his mouth is on me, lips still curled in a smile as he moves them against mine.
My eyes are open, widened on him when he pulls back. “That is…” he lets out another chuckle, shaking his head. “The cutest thing I have ever heard.”
Heat floods my cheeks, the blush traveling down my chest the longer Taylor smiles at me. “Shut up.”
He takes my chin in his hand, drawing me into another kiss. “How long did this teeny tiny crush last, huh?” he murmurs against my lips.
I roll my eyes, pushing him back down into his seat. “It was barely a crush. More like a passing fancy.”
“Right.” Taylor crosses his arms, and I have never seen the man look more smug. “Sure sounds like it.”
Yeah, I’ve had just about enough of his teasing. I rest my chin in my hands, turning the spotlight on him. “So you were handed weed brownies and you assumed I tried to poison you, on purpose, just to impress a boy I wasn’t even dating? Seems like a pretty wild conclusion to jump to.”
It’s Taylor’s turn to blush. “Your ex came up to me the night his team lost against ours. He was spitting in my face, claiming he’d make my life a living hell. I’d never seen someone so upset. I guess it stuck with me. So when I recognized you in that picture with him, I don’t know…it didn’t seem like a coincidence.”
I look down at my hands. “I really am sorry, Taylor. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
“Hey,” he says, compelling me to look up at him. “I believe you. And I’m sorry for my part in this. I know I haven’t always been kind to you. It’s just…I assumed you were still with Rob when I started working for the Havens. I wasn’t sure whether you’d try to hurt me again.”
“I wouldn’t—”
Taylor reaches for my hand. This time, I don’t resist. “I know. Looking back, I feel stupid for making assumptions without talking to you first.”
“I would have done the same,” I murmur. He pulls me up, and for the second time, I find myself enveloped in Taylor’s arms. He hugs me like he cares about me. Like he’s missed more than just my body these last days I’ve been away.
I shiver when he steps back, immediately missing his warmth. He takes my hand, weaving me through the cafe until we stand in their empty courtyard.
“I’ve decided there’s one more thing I want before I forgive you.”
I stand straighter, feeling my stomach lurch. “Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”
Taylor cocks his head, looking me over. “You mean that? You’ll agree to anything I ask?”
It’s a dangerous question. So I know I’ve given Taylor my full trust when I say, “Yes. Anything.”
He leans forward. “Then I’ll forgive you, Ayla. If you go on a date with me.”
“A real one?” The words slip out, sounding too good to be true. I still have no idea where Taylor and I stand. He wants me physically, this I know for sure. But does he want all of me? The way I want all of him?
He lets out a low laugh. “A real date. Just like the other two and a half that came before it. Can I pick you up tonight?”
Two and a half? I nod, feeling tongue-tied. “Y-yes?”
“Good. Oh, and one last thing.” He pulls a roll of papers out of his back pocket. My eyes widen when I read the title of his screenplay on the first page.
“You finished,” I breathe.
“I did. And I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain.” Taylor leans down, pressing his lips against my cheek. “See you tonight, beautiful.”