That: Taylor & Brooks (Love By Any Means #2)

Chapter 1

Taylor stepped out of Coupeville City Memorial into the cool night air, a sigh slipped from her lips as exhaustion sank deep into her bones.

Her title might've been Executive Assistant, but tonight she just felt... done.

With the day. With the weight.

And especially with a husband who still hadn’t shown up.

Her calves ached, her ankles pulsed, and her heels, cute but disrespectful, had declared war on her feet.

She pulled her jacket tighter, the fall wind slicing through the nearly empty lot.

It had been a week since her car broke down and Tyree had promised to pick up the slack. Most of his promises had been paper-thin lately. This one was no different. She couldn’t believe she fell for it again.

She checked her phone again, no missed calls, no texts. A blank screen and the rising tide of embarrassment tightening in her chest. Stranded. Like some teenager waiting for a ride that wasn’t coming.

The city lights from Main flickered in the distance, reminding her that Coupeville never really slept. Just rested its eyes, she was safe but that wasn’t the point .

“Need a ride home?” Sarah from Cardiology asked, jingling her keys, concern etched across her face. “You helped me sort out my mess with HR last month. I owe you.”

Taylor looked at the empty lot, then at her coworker’s hopeful face.

“I’m good. He’s just running late,” she lied, slipping her phone back into her purse.

She hated the burn of making excuses for him. Even more than the ache in her feet.

Sarah gave a hesitant smile before heading off.

Taylor watched her walk away, an old familiar pang of jealousy crawling up her chest. She hated how bitter she felt, but she couldn’t help it.

Her car was taking forever at the shop, and now she had to depend on the man who never showed up when it counted.

“Where is he?” She muttered, rechecking her phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

Her eyes scanned the lot again, almost hoping she missed his car in the dark.

But nothing.

Just the same blank screen staring back at her. Her head pounded as she rubbed her temple, willing herself to calm down.

All she wanted was a scalding hot shower, some silence, and her bed.

The day had been a blur of smiling, solving, and performing. She was holding it together with a bobby pin and a prayer.

“Mrs. Martin, everything okay? I tried to mind my business, but you been standing here a while. I had to stop and ask.”

She dropped her purse onto the bench beside her as the security guard stared at her. This was his third time searching her eyes. And each time he passed, he looked more concerned than the last.

“Mr. Cary, I’m fine. Don’t worry he’ll be here.”

She wasn’t fine, she was far from fine. She was pissed. Sad. Aching. Longing. A swirl of too much all at once. The emotional highs and lows were having their way with her as she lied each time someone stopped and asked if she needed a ride.

And if another person stopped to ask, she was sure she’d burst into tears.

“Lord, why me?” She knew better than to question God, but she was fed up of believing things would change when deep down she knew good and well they wouldn’t. As a preacher’s kid, she’d been raised to believe trials made people stronger and suffering was a test of faith.

“Wait on the Lord,” they said.

Right now, waiting felt like punishment.

Taylor twisted her jaw, dialed his number once more. His voicemail was all she was met with.

“Tyree, if you don’t pick up this doggone phone or call me back, we are going to have a serious problem. I’m going to be left to assume you want a divorce, because no husband of mine should have me waiting outside in the cold.”

She rubbed her temple again, fighting back tears. Her gut was telling her something was wrong. Her gut was also telling her this was the last straw.

“Fuck,” she fussed, stomping her foot. She hated that she had no plan. No person.

“Opps, sorry, my bad, Lord.”

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. The hospital’s service was garbage, and she needed one bar to try his number again. Taylor groaned, kicked off her shoes, and began to pace as she stepped out from under the awning and held her phone up, desperate for a better signal.

She was certain she looked like she should be admitted to the third floor with the mental patients, but she pressed on. The voicemail notification appeared on cue.

“Ouu bars,” she exclaimed, pressing play and lifting the phone to her ear. But it wasn’t Tyree’s voice coming through her phone.

“Mrs. Martin, this is Officer Sola with CCPD. Your husband was arrested for DUI, evading arrest, and endangering the public. His vehicle is being held at Wilson’s Impound on 6th Street. It’s drivable but barely...”

The rest of the message faded into a low vibration in her ears as reality sank in like dead weight. Her hand dropped to her side. Her phone dangled from her fingers.

DUI. Again.

She grew lightheaded, as if the ground shifted under her. Her wedding ring burned on her finger. She was stranded at work, holding it together for the both of them, while Tyree was in a jail cell. She was beginning to despise him. And blame herself. She knew better.

It was the “endangering the public” part that knocked the wind out of her. That was new. Next level.

“Well, isn’t that just great?” The words were dry and flat now, more of a sigh than a statement. She exhaled, thumb dragging across her contacts, every scroll slower than the last.

But she kept scrolling .

Then she saw his name.

Brooks.

She paused.

Held her breath. Just seeing his name brought heat to her neck and thumping in her ear she couldn’t quite explain.

She shouldn’t. But her thumb didn’t move away either.

She hovered over his name. Calling her best friend Blake would bring drama. An Uber cost money she didn’t have. She wouldn’t dare bring her parents out at this time of night. Brooks meant something else. Or maybe it didn’t. He owned a towing company. This wouldn’t be strange at all.

Still, she knew one thing: Brooks was steady. Like mountains. Easy, like Sunday morning. He didn’t press, didn’t pry. If she called, he’d just handle it, no judgment, no fixing. Just presence.

She’d always respected that about him. The way he stood in the gap for Blake, the way he didn’t need an explanation to show up. And right now, she needed that kind of steadiness. Someone to handle things without trying to handle her.

“Ugh. Don’t overthink it, Taylor.”

She typed out a message: I need a favor .

Too desperate. Delete.

Hey, are you busy?

It felt too casual. Almost like this was just another day of her texting him.

Delete.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. How did you text someone you barely spoke to? Someone you were only reaching out to because you had no other choice. The thought made her stomach turn. Even thinking about it made her feel like a user, but she couldn’t sit there any longer. She just couldn’t.

I need … She started typing again, then stopped.

Need was too strong a word. Need meant vulnerability. Need meant admitting something was wrong. Delete. The cursor blinked back at her in a steady rhythm, matching the thud of her pulse. Before she could change her mind, she hit the call button.

One ring. Her heart stumbled.

Two rings. Three.

She almost hung up. Her thumb hovered. She even laughed at herself, quiet and nervous. Why was she acting like this?

Then, his voice—deep, full of weight not volume—became music to her ears.

“Speak.”

Taylor closed her eyes and exhaled nerves racing up her spine with purpose. Doubt flooded in fast, loud and familiar.

Why am I even doing this?

Why would a man I barely know show up for me… when my own husband won’t?

The ache came quick, Tyree at seventeen, waiting by her car with two cups of coffee and a Colgate smile.

The one that made her break every rule in her daddy’s book. He’d been so beautiful then, so full of God and gospel and big plans for their future.

Now? The only thing he worshipped was what waited for him at the bottom of a bottle. And her teenage dreams? They’d soured into adult disappointments. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked at or treated her as a husband should .

She wasn’t just tired of waiting on Tyree to get it together. She was tired of the way his downfall made her feel small. How his problems had become her own.

His problems were always more important than her needs. Debt climbing. Lawyers, court fees, car repairs. She was left feeling invisible. As though she was asking for too much when all she ever wanted was the man he used to be. Who she needed him to be.

Her grip tightened around the phone.

“Hey, Brooks? Uhm… it’s Taylor,” she expressed, glancing around like she was sneaking out of church. Her voice was low, unsure.

“I know it’s you, Tay. What’s wrong? What’s up?” He asked.

She swallowed, forcing the words out. “Brooks, could you do me a favor? I need a favor.”

The second the words left her lips, relief rushed in to replace the embarrassment. But something in his tone made her pause. He’d called her Tay. Soft. Familiar. Like it was natural. Like he’d been saying it for years. When he hadn’t, at least not in her face.

It didn’t line up with the Brooks Bishop she thought she knew. He wasn't warm. Not in the obvious way. He didn't linger in feelings, didn't offer comfort, but something about him still held you.

He didn’t need to be loud. His silence spoke.

There was a low kindness in his voice, like an open door. That Tay? That, What’s wrong? What’s up? Made her feel like she could ask him for anything.

Brooks had always been a presence she saw but didn’t really see. He was around because the only person he prioritized was Blake.

Nevertheless, tonight… she had called him .

And he had answered.

Her screen lit up, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. His name popped up again, FaceTime. No warning.

What the hell is going on with him tonight?