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“Why are you whispering?” I ask, kicking the blankets off me.
“I’m with Levi.”
“Oh, well, I can let you go,” I suggest, biting my lip, hoping he says no.
“Trust me, I wish I wasn’t. I’m at Stephanie’s house and Olive is here, also. They’re asleep on the couch, and I’m tempted to leave Levi stranded here.”
I laugh but feel a little hurt that Olive and Stephanie are willing to hang out altogether without me. “They haven’t talked to me in weeks,” I whisper back.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think they’d be more understanding now if you tried to reach out to them. We talked about it. Kinda. It’s in the past now, baby.”
The way he talks to me sends butterflies fluttering through my stomach. He was the sweetest boyfriend in high school, so gentle and generous. I know he tries to be a different man now, but I can still see him for who he truly is.
“How’s your mom?” he asks.
“I think she’s okay. It feels weird being back here. It’s so different, but it’s also like I never left.”
“Do you miss California?”
“No…not at all. I miss my mom, but this place can be hell. I’m worried I’m not sending her enough money. Being a barista doesn’t pay well,” I chuckle.
“Wait, Taylor, you send her money?” His voice sounds urgent, upset, almost.
“Of course, I helped pay rent when I lived here. It wouldn’t be fair to stop.” It makes sense to me. I love my mom, and I don’t want her to be hurting any more than she has to be.
“Wow… That’s like, messed up.”
“I’m sorry we’re not rich like you, Elijah,” I say. “Not everyone had a daddy give us a lifetime supply of money.”
“You have no fucking clue,” he growls. All I know about Elijah’s dad is that he died quickly, without warning and left them very comfortable. Not to mention that he nor Jessica never bring him up, either.
“Then tell me,” I say.
“That’s for another time,” he says. “I should be going.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say, sitting up in bed. “You just never talk about him, but I see how you guys live. I guess I’m jealous.”
“He doesn’t matter. And don’t be jealous. This is your family, now, too.”
“You don’t think I’m out to get your mom’s money anymore? What about my dad?”
He sighs, followed by a low chuckle. “Just come home soon, okay?”
I hang up and think about that word.Home.It used to be Mom, but could it be something more now? I feel a longing deep within me when I think about Elijah and the house I live in now. I didn’t realize how much I have started to consider Minnesota my home again. Even though it’s so different than how I grew up, and everything has gone to shit, all I can think about is running back to him. I hate these fucking memory-stained walls and broken TV. I hate the way the apartment can never get cold enough, even in the winter. The thought of never going back makes me sick.
Dad was worried I would go back to California and realize how much I missed it or something, but he is so wrong. I love the sun, but the people here aren’t nearly as nice, and I find everything costs so much more.
The only thing that keeps me coming back is Mom and her shaky mental health.
34
ELIJAH HAYES
Taylor’s coming home today and it’s all I can think about. Even though I have a home game today, I can’t stop thinking about her. I need to be on my A-game today. The roads are starting to get a bit slick outside with the freezing rain and trickling snow that comes with it being early December. This is always my favorite part of the year. Not because of Christmas, but because of the way the weather looks like something out of a storybook. Maybe that’s cheesy, but there is something nice about the town being coated in a blanket of white.
I sit up in bed, deciding for the first time in about a month to actually clean and do some laundry. As I shove my dirty clothes into my hamper, I can hear a car pull up outside my window. Rushing up to the glass, I see Taylor step out of a car then yank a suitcase from the trunk. I fight the urge to run down there and scoop her up in my arms. She wears a tight turtleneck that shows the small outline of her lower stomach. God, why is that so hot? She looks up at my window, but I duck down, hopefully before she sees me.
The last thing her ego needs is to know that I’m waiting for her. I listen to the sound of her bag rolling across the driveway and the front door open below me. Quickly, I make my bed as if she is going to come strolling in here and inspect my room. I wish she would, almost. I’d toss her onto the bed before crawling on top of her, surprising her with my strength. Then I would slowly graze my fingers down her skirt and into her panties, confirming that she’s wet for me…
