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21
Taran stared out past the cement patio into the miles of green around her. She always forgot how flat Texas was when she hadn’t been home for a while. It seemed like she could see forever here, the endless yellowy-green going on until it met the sky. It was blisteringly hot and humid, but the blue sky against the green fields made it worthwhile to sit out under the umbrella on her parents’ patio with a glass of sweet tea.
“I still can’t believe you cut off your hair,” Teagan, her sister, said for the hundredth time. She flicked her long locks over her shoulder and shook her head at Taran.
When Taran had run out of her hotel room a week ago, she’d gotten on the first flight to Houston. Nothing like running home to hide. However, she hadn’t brought her hairpiece, so it was the first time her family had seen how, as her mother said, she’d hacked off all her beautiful curls.
“Hair grows,” she replied, not bothering to tell them that she’d done it two years ago. It was ridiculous that her hair that danced just above her shoulders was considered too short.
Usually, her family’s nagging didn’t bother her. Not much did. But the truth of it was that she had a lot of feelings for the first time in a very long time. And no idea what to do with any of them. She’d left Corey’s room both shocked and pissed at herself. Taran wouldn’t pretend she hadn’t known what would happen when she went to Corey’s room that night. She had. But she’d been high on feelings and not thinking through the consequences.
She’d grabbed her stuff and fled back to the one place that might make her numb again. She had hoped memories of Jeremy would make her forget her confusing feelings for Corey Matthews. But although she was back in Texas, where she and Jeremy grew up, Corey was still front and center in her brain.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could see him looking down at her. She could feel his hands moving on her skin, his breath dancing across her face. She dreamed of him pressing against her, moving inside her.
“So you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?” Teagan asked, jarring her back to the moment. Her sister’s brown eyes, surrounded by long lashes, sparkled with uncontained curiosity. “Mom and Dad are thrilled you’re here; they can’t care why. Dana’s too busy to be nosy, and my husband and Tristan hate drama, but I’m none of those things. So, spill.”
Teagan was almost nine when Taran was born. Tristan, their brother, was fifteen. By the time Taran was eight, Tristan was married to Dana. So unlike Tristan and Dana, who were more like her parents, Teagan was her best friend. Since the days when the two sisters were competing in beauty pageants all over Texas, Teagan had been her confidant. She taught her about makeup and boys. The first time she skipped class, Teagan forged her note. Teagan was who she’d run to when she kissed Jeremy for the first time. And she was the one who got her on birth control before she and Jeremy started having sex. Teagan was the first phone call when she got engaged. But her big sister was also the person who missed the old Taran the most.
Teagan leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. Her engagement ring and wedding band sparkled on her finger as she tapped her manicured nails against her jaw.
“You told me you almost crossed one of those stupid lines you journalists have.” She had no patience for things like journalistic integrity when it got in the way of a good love story. “So it must be about a man.” She flashed her bleach-white teeth at Taran. “But looking at you, bless your heart, I can see why he didn’t let you cross that line. You’ve let yourself go.”
She wasn’t trying to be insulting, and Taran knew that. Teagan just believed it was a woman’s job to look like she was about to be crowned with some tiara, be it a homecoming queen crown or a Miss Texas crown or a you’re-the-hottest-wife-in-the-world crown. She had her teeth bleached monthly, her lashes done bi-monthly, her nails done weekly, and she never left the house without her hair done and a full face of makeup. Teagan always looked perfect. Taran had given up that lifestyle two years ago.
“Don’t bless me,” Taran rolled her eyes. “And I told you, I stopped myself. He didn’t stop a thing.” She attempted not to blink while stating the complete and total lie. Marc knocking on the door was the only reason Taran hadn’t had sex with Corey Matthews in a random hotel room while she was traveling with the Metros.
“So who is he?” she asked. Teagan’s black strappy sandal tapped impatiently on the cement. “The last two stories you wrote were about Clayton Evans and Tim Tillerson. Although they’re both beautiful men, they’re both younger than you, and I can’t see you falling for either of them.”
This was not the first time Taran had assured her sister that neither of those young men was the reason for her sudden trip to Texas. Then her sister ran through a hundred other people, all too young, too old, too married, too ugly. She’d run the gamut of athletes and never even got close.
Taran sighed. “It’s Corey Matthews.”
The tapping foot stopped, and Taran heard her sister’s arm fall to the table. “Lord love a duck,” she whispered.
Taran rolled her eyes; no one but a Texan would ever say something so ridiculous. “What does that even mean, Teag?”
“Corey Matthews?” She blinked as she placed her palm on her chest. “Oh my goodness.”
And this was why she hadn’t told her. Ever since he’d helped the Astros win the World Series, Corey Matthews was like Superman in this family. A legend on a pedestal for all to see. Teagan brought her bright red fingernail up and tapped her lips twice as she looked past Taran into the fields. “Crying all night.” She smiled.
Taran looked at her incredulously. “What?”
“I’m just trying to imagine Captain America in all his glory.”
“For crap’s sake.” Taran sighed.
“You talk like such a New Yorker.” Her sister’s nose scrunched up as she pursed her lips. “So now you’re here because you feel guilty?”
Taran slammed her hand down on the tabletop, causing the entire table to vibrate harshly. “I’m tired of telling you that me not dating has nothing to do with Jeremy. I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t think he would be upset with me. Just the opposite—he told me to move on if something ever happened to him. Everyone wants me to date. Holy shit, you all try to shove it down my throat so much I should feel guilty not dating, except normally I don’t feel anything.”
“Whoa,” Teagan said, wide-eyed. “That’s the first outburst I’ve seen from you in a long time.”
Taran glanced away.
“You want to unpack this with me?” Teagan asked.
“He makes me feel things again,” Taran admitted.
