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“He’s okay?”
Taylor was inside the doorway. And she wasn’t going to invite Georgia in. “No, he’s not fucking okay, he split his head open, he’s got a buggered knee, he’s sore all over and he’s blinder than ever.”
“Why do you hate me?” I
t was out of Georgia’s mouth before she was fully conscious of wanting to take Taylor on, but the quick blink of surprise on Taylor’s face made it worth any concern she had about getting into a catfight while Damon was somewhere in the house.
“Because you’re a bleeding heart and he’ll learn to rely on you and when it all gets too much you’ll shoot through.”
Georgia opened and closed her hands at her sides. “That’s a bitch of a thing to say.”
Taylor narrowed her eyes. “Tell me you haven’t thought that. Go on, you tell me that no matter how sexy, how good in bed, how rich, handsome and interesting he is, you haven’t thought well shit, he’s blind and that’s going to cramp my style.”
Georgia shook her head, balled her fists. She wanted to slap Taylor, leave red fingerprints over her smart mouth.
“Yeah, see it’s all over you, the stink of do-good. He does not need a do-gooder.”
“Is that because he needs you, or you just want him to need you?” Not a slap but a hit all the same.
Taylor’s chin jerked up. “What?”
“I get he’s your friend. I get you want to protect him. I get you love him, but you have no right getting involved with what’s between us or to question my motives. Damon is not a kid. He doesn’t need you as his mother, or his Rottweiler.”
“And what would you know about what Damon needs?” Taylor jammed her hands on her fists.
“Nothing. I know nothing about what he needs. I know if I stick around he might tell me, show me, trust me to understand. I know I have to let him take the lead. I know I’m scared about what being in a relationship with him might mean. And I know that’s what I want. I also know it’s none of your damn business.”
Taylor harrumphed. “And that was right answer,” and then she smiled and it changed her whole face, the impact more shocking than a slap would’ve been. “He’s asleep in the garden. He’s desperate to see you. You’d better come in.”
21: Huge
Damon heard them talking. He wanted Taylor to disappear and for Georgia to lay down with him on the daybed, so he could hear the world in her and beg her for another chance.
Taylor was going to be mad with him for a long time. Mad in a way that had her bring a suitcase and tell him she was staying, that it didn’t matter if her lease still had two months to run, she was moving in anyway. Moving in for all the wrong reasons, because she no longer trusted him.
He was so grateful Georgia was here, but he didn’t want to rush the moment where she’d tell him she’d had second thoughts, or worse, not tell him, and then he’d have no idea what damage he’d done.
So he lay there under the canopy in the shade with his thumping headache, his bruised body and his reluctant guilt and listened to them talk softly at the table on the deck.
Over birds and a lawnmower, two kids having a water-gun fight, he could hear enough to know they were talking about music. About Taylor’s singing, how she felt her career was never going to make it out of weddings and corporate gigs. About how Georgia had always wanted to work with bands and engineer live recordings and thought she’d missed out on that opportunity now because of her age and lack of experience.
They were so different and yet so similar. Taylor strutted around like she was The Hulk, mean, green and nobody’s fool, but she was a soft squish of insecurities and frustrations. Most people saw the angsty rock chick with the foul mouth, crabby temper, and the badass tats when they looked at Taylor, which was exactly what she wanted them to think. What she let Damon see was how most of that was scaly armour to cover the softest heart, consistent disappointment and enduring loneliness.
Something happened to make Taylor this way about three years ago. One of those times he was away more than he was home. When he got back she was different, harder, yet more brittle. She wouldn’t talk about it and neither would Angus. Whatever it was made Jamie angry and even Sam was uncharacteristically quiet. Damon had learned to leave it alone.
From what he could figure, Taylor loved someone and they didn’t love her and she hugged that unhappiness so close and wore it so often it’d leached out all the colours of her confidence, left her threadbare and covering up with snark.
It was time he got to the bottom of that. Unpacked the parts of Taylor that got annoyed with Angus, avoided Jamie and spent money she didn’t have on hideous new perfume to go out with someone new who dumped her.
If she’d let him.
She was angry enough to rearrange the furniture and his wardrobe and let him go out best dressed by haven’t got a clue.
And then there was Georgia. Taylor’s opposite, but her soul sister just the same. Georgia came at you fears and worries first, that prickly indecision, that cool shyness she had about her. But poke that awkward hesitant behaviour and you hit a core of resilience and strength that was so tempered by her circumstances, her inner strength shone from her.
She didn’t see that. She only saw where life had defeated her, made her a survivor and guilty because of it. He wanted to love that crap right out of her, make her feel so safe and comfortable she stopped hesitating and owned her choices, her life.
But he’d sold her a false idol in himself, the blind man who could see, and now he was scared she’d scratch him and uncover only pride and selfishness, flaky ego and pigheadedness. And she wouldn’t love that in him, though he’d love her no matter how she reacted.
