Chapter 45
CHAPTER 45
W hat in the ever-loving hell did I put in this suitcase?
I swear I feel one of my shoulders pop out of place as I haul the thing into my trunk. I try to remember what I packed, but this morning has been a blur. My final phone call to Adoria put something in motion I’ve been trying to ignore for the better part of a year.
So I packed up my life in a daze and stuffed it in a bag. I can only hope I had the foresight to bring enough underwear and a toothbrush and toothpaste. If I go back to check, I might never work up the courage to leave. And I do need to leave. Today is the first day of the rest of my life, I just need to—
“AYLA!”
I would recognize that voice anywhere. I whip around and Taylor is running through my building’s parking lot, heading straight toward me. His arms go around my waist and I’m being lifted up and up, until my legs can cross around his back. He spins me around until I’m pressed against the side of my car. When he lowers me to the ground, he hooks a finger beneath my chin so that I have to meet his eyes.
“You quit,” he states.
I nod.
“Why?”
“Because I had nothing else to learn,” I whisper, and Taylor closes his eyes. “I wasn’t growing anymore. It was the right time to leave.”
“What am I going to do without you?” When his gaze returns to mine, I realize his eyes have gone glassy. “You were the only thing I looked forward to each day.”
“And you were mine.” I offer a sad smile that Taylor musters the strength to return. “But at least you have a kick-ass vacation to look forward to.”
He clenches his jaw. “That trip was yours. You’re the one who deserved it.”
“You earned it fair and square.” He opens his mouth but I hold up a finger. “Adoria said even if I had turned in a screenplay, you would have been tough to beat. She seemed to believe my heart was no longer in it. She was right.”
“Ayla, you’re the best writer I know—”
“Oh, I’m still going to write,” I assure him with a little laugh. “But I don’t want to write for the screen. I realized it while reading your work, actually. Your words moved me. They showed me that my dreams had changed. That I want to create worlds without a time limit. I want to see my ideas inked on a page and bound in leather; I want to see them on shelves people will line up to buy.” I shake my head, anticipation stealing the words off my tongue. Freedom feels like the brightest kind of hope. I’m lighter, bursting with ideas. There are so many stories I want to tell. And I have finally found the courage to try.
“I want you to make the most of this trip,” I continue, taking hold of his hands. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Just, learn as much as you possibly can. And try to give the Havens a little bit of hell for me.”
Taylor’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “How am I supposed to survive our bosses without you by my side?”
I poke his chest. “You’re stupidly good at everything, remember? You’ll figure it out.”
“And you? What are you going to do now?”
I gesture at the suitcase in the trunk of my car. “I’m getting out of town. Well, for the weekend, at least. Booked myself a room by the beach. I’m going to hunker down and write as much as I can for the next three days. After that…” I shrug. “I’m pretty capable, too. Something tells me I’ll land on my feet.”
Taylor looks incensed. “Hold on, you were going to leave without telling me?”
“I mean, I’ll be forty-five minutes away.”
“More like an hour and forty.”
“Will you brave the traffic to visit me?”
“I’m pretty sure I would do just about anything for you.”
My breath catches in my throat. Taylor looks between my eyes, and he’s being honest. I read his sincerity in every line on his perfect face.
“Careful,” I whisper. “Or someone might think you actually like me.”
Taylor swallows and I feel myself do the same. Because the words are on the tip of my tongue— I love you.
And I do. I love Taylor Hedlund. And there will be plenty of time to tell him how much he means to me. There will be plenty of time for him to voice the realization I can see dawning in his eyes.
“I have a question for you,” I say before anything else can spill out.
He blinks, clearing the haze from the words we almost said. It will hit him later, the right time to tell me what I already know. But we don’t need to jump ahead in our story.
“Shoot,” he eventually vocalizes.
“Now this is an important question,” I begin, twirling my hair. “And if it scares you, you don’t have to respond.”
Taylor narrows his eyes. “Go on…”
“Taylor Hedlund—wait, what is your middle name?”
“Gabriel,” he whispers.
“Taylor Gabriel Hedlund…will you pretty please with a cherry on top…” I blow out a long dramatic breath. “Teach me how to shoot a basket?”
He chokes out a laugh. “Oh, Ayla. Ayla Maria Montes…I’ll show you all sorts of terrible things.”
I don’t have time to wonder how he knows my middle name—his hands are on my waist, and I’m instantly preoccupied. He hoists me up like I weigh nothing at all, throwing me over his shoulder. I let out a gasp, pounding on his back to put me down as he locks my car.
Taylor ignores my threats, carrying me back up the stairs to my apartment. He sets me on the ground, capturing my mouth before I can pretend to be outraged.
He kicks my door shut.
And then he uses his tongue to tell me every sordid story two writers can dream up.