Call Me Michigan (7 page)

Taylor Collins was sleeping in his bed.

He moved forward involuntarily, walking around the bed and smiling in response to the curve that shaped her lips.

“I’ll wait downstairs,” his mother whispered from the doorway, but he barely noticed it. Carefully, making sure not to disturb her, he sat down on the bed. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t anything new in his eyes. What was new was how young she looked being that utterly unguarded.

She shifted, pushing her left hand under her cheek while reaching out with the other. He couldn’t resist, entwining his fingers with her. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, wondering if the rest of her body would be as warm as her hand.

“Not creepy at all,” he suddenly heard, his heart beating in his throat while he hastily tried to untangle their hands. It turned out to be a feat since she only held on to him stronger the more he pulled. “Hey, Stiles,” she then added, and in the half-light, he saw she’d opened her eyes. “You were not supposed to be here, but now, I’m leaving!” She sat up and then swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting in front of him. Her legs were long and slender, covered in cream-colored skin that ended somewhere beneath his hoodie. He wasn’t sure that piece of clothing had ever looked as good on him as it did on her.

His mind finally caught up when she almost reached the door. He jumped up and threw her over his shoulder, surprised that she toned down her squeal until it was barely there. “Put me down, Stiles,” she demanded, the humor evident in her voice. He gently placed her on the bed.

“I just did.” Move away from her, Mason, just move away from her, he told himself, but instead, he stayed where he was, leaned over her and keeping her from sleep.

“It’s your bed,” she protested, sitting up again, only to now be eye-level with him.

“You were here first,” he pointed out and then kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, falling back into the pillows. It didn’t take long, and she was asleep again, breathing regularly. He got up from the bed and closed her … his door quietly. Downstairs, he found his mom, and she held a bottle out to him. Oh yes, he definitely needed a beer now.

“What happened?” He saw absolutely no scenario in which she showed up there, begging for a bed.

“I found her in the barn, and trust me, she looked ready to sleep on the sofa up there. I didn't expect you back and … why in the world did that couple throw you so bad that you returned early?”

“The helicopter is broken and needed repairing. With no helicopter, there was no need for a pilot,” he explained absent-mindedly.

“How long are you off?”

Mason turned to look at his mom. “Until next shift,” he mumbled and then took a long swig out of his bottle. Rolling it between his palms, he sighed. “I wanna go up there and crawl in bed with her. I let her go once, and it won’t happen again. But somethin’s off with her just showing up in our barn like that. I wish –”

“That she’d tell you? Did you ask her how she’s coping? How she feels being back?” his mom prompted, and he shook his head.

“I haven’t been around her long enough to talk to her, and ...” Hearing steps on the stairs, he shut up.

“I was sure you fell back asleep,” he stated, his voice unnaturally hoarse as his eyes fell on her bare legs once again.

“I heard the hum of your voice, and while it’s soothing, it made me realize that now you’d have to sleep on the sofa,” she explained and then knotted her fingers together, clearly nervous.

“I’m off to bed,” his mother announced, and Mason barely nodded, his eyes focused on the woman who held all his hopes and dreams in the palm of her hand and didn’t even know it.

“Night, Stella,” Taylor said quietly, and Mason felt how his mother kissed his cheek before leaving them alone. Taylor pulled the sleeves of his hoodie longer until they covered half her hands, reminding him of too many times she had done exactly that with his clothes.

“I’m okay with sleeping on the sofa,” he finally muttered, and she shook her head, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of her house.

“I should get home and sleep there,” she exclaimed, not moving, though.

“You should get to bed, you mean,” he corrected.

“I don’t have a …” She seemingly caught herself and stopped whatever she had intended to say. It made Mason curious.

“You don’t have a what?” he cross-examined her, stepping so close to her that she had to look up.

“I don’t have any intention of occupying your bed. That’s what I meant to say,” she told him, and it couldn’t be more obvious that she was lying.

“What is it, Michigan?” he inquired, noticing how breakable she looked as she fidgeted with his sleeve cuffs.

“Nothing,” she whispered, stepping away. As much as she had changed, some things hadn’t changed at all.

***

Taylor should’ve refused the bed when Stella had offered, but the thought of a full night of sleep had been too tempting. Now, though, looking at her beautiful nightmare, she regretted the decision to stay. Watching him, she could barely suppress the need to reach out and brush her finger over his stubble-covered jaw. To her dismay – and utter happiness – he followed her every step she took back, reaching for her wrist. The frayed endings of the cuffs looked pale against his sun-darkened skin as his eyes lowered, his thumb brushing her pulse through the material.

“Here,” he whispered, drawing her eyes to his hands.

“What?” she wanted to know, and he raised her wrist until her eyes widened. A tiny hole, a spark burn, grazed the top of the cuff just where the sleeve started. She had caused it.

Her eyes snapped to his face, not wanting to miss the smallest emotion. “You kept that hoodie? The Halloween one?” That night felt as if it had happened in another life. Tay still felt the way his heart had beat beneath her palm.

“It’s my favorite.” He winked, and she arched a brow. He watched her as if waiting for something, and then he hid his emotions, lowering his eyes. Finally, Taylor realized that she was more or less naked under the hoodie.

Blushing, she tugged the gray cotton down. A yawn threatened to escape her, and he reached out, tugging on a blonde strand hanging down her shoulder.

“I need to get a shirt from my room, but then you can go back to sleep,” he urged, wanting to pass her, but she reached for his hand, knowing that she craved the skin-to-skin contact.

“Would you mind driving me back?” she wanted to know, continuing to hold his hand even while she had his attention.

“No problem,” he reassured her, “right after breakfast.” He walked up the stairs, and Taylor followed, shaking her head as she realized that he was just as stubborn as ever.

Taylor had forgotten how noisy football games were – or how much she had always loved them.

“It just wasn’t the same without you,” Ash called over the cheering, and Taylor wanted to reply when she spotted Mason and Brad, the former watching them while the latter screamed something in the direction of the field.

Focusing on the girl next to her, she smiled tight-lipped. “I’m happy to be back,” she forced out.

“You don’t look happy. Hey, how do you like the idea of loosenin’ up, girl?” Ash wondered just as another young woman walked up to them, carrying a bottle of OJ and a can of soda. She instantly held it out to Taylor.

“It’s vodka-o,” she whispered conspiratorially, and Taylor realized that she yearned for a few sips and as many hours of oblivion.

“You little vixen, you. Smuggling alcohol into a high school football game? Tsk,” Ash scolded and then grinned. Taylor could see the girl grow with the hidden praise. Only then did the newcomer’s eyes fall on Tay again and widen.

“You’re Taylor Collins! I’m Sybil, but people call me Syb.” The nickname sounded like ‘zip,’ and Taylor wondered if her friends had secretly been trying to hint at something. “You’re the reason Ash and Mason aren’t a couple any longer,” she went on in a bubbly voice. “She’s still talking to you. It’s so cool. Real best friends.”

“Shut up, Sybil,” Ashley chided, all color having left her friend’s face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Clearly, you’ve sampled the vodka way too much.” The grin she forced on her lips looked fake while Taylor had to sit.

“But you said that Taylor was like the third person between you –”

“Cut it, darlin’,” Ashley enforced, then looked apologetically at Taylor. “It’s bullshit, and she knows it. You weren’t even there. Look, Michigan …”

Taylor did look at her former best friend, knowing that Sybil hadn’t made that up. Tay reached blindly for the bottle that looked so much like juice but burned all the way down her throat until it hit her empty stomach.

“Sit. Explain,” she ordered after taking a few pulls from the plastic bottle, refusing to allow her eyes to stray to Mason.

Ashley dutifully planted next to her, wringing her hands together in her lap. “You left a gaping hole, Tay. I felt the need to replace you. I tried bein’ as smart, or as pretty as you, as funny, and as compassionate as you, but I wasn’t a very good you. The group broke apart, and it hurt my heart. That group was my life, and I never realized that basically you were the glue keepin’ us together. Everyone always loved talking to you, and they wanted your advice or your shoulder to cry on if need be. I wasn’t much of a person without you. And then Mason came in and asked me out, reminding me of you and my happy years growing up. I was stupid, really, but I had faked being you for so long that I couldn’t discern between what I wanted and what you wanted, or better, what I thought you wanted. Mason had always been on that list, and he was pretty damn amazin’. It wasn’t until I had a child I didn’t want with a man I didn’t love the way I thought I did that I realized my mistake.” Ashley’s eyes went to where Mason sat, and while he wasn’t looking at them this time around, Taylor saw the regret shining brightly in her eyes. “I up and left, hoping to find the real me, you know? Ashley. Turns out, I never was more me than when I was friends with you.” While the last sentence might have been the truth, Taylor couldn’t believe the rest. It sounded like one huge pile of bullshit to her, and she couldn’t figure out why Ash would make up a lie like that. She took another swig of the bottle, her head spinning. She wasn’t sure if it was Ashley’s confession or the alcohol, though.

“You never expected me to be anythin’ but a shoulder to cry on,” her friend continued quietly. “I could be me all I wanted. I never needed to fake anythin’ with you, and it’s why I loved you like a sister back then, still love you the same, and missed you like hell.”

“Why, then, would Syb expect you to be mad at me? And don’t lie about not loving Mason because I can see it in your eyes and on your face.” Her words were slightly slurred, and it surprised her.

“Fuck, Sybil, how much vodka is in that juice?” Ash inquired, clearly having noticed as well.

“The real question is how much juice is in that vodka,” Taylor injected, smiling smugly. This was becoming kind of funny. She rose from her seat, the world tilting only slightly on its axis. She needed food before she interrogated Ashley more.

“Michigan, where the hell do you think you’re goin?” Ashley called, but Tay just needed a minute. Making her way down, she took a second to breathe. There, under the stands, she felt thrown back in time. She couldn’t stop a smile from forming as she remembered all the times she had snuck away to meet Eric here, exchanging hot kisses and stolen moments.

“Hey, you left me alone, Taylor. You were gone, and I couldn’t even hate you because we’ve all seen how things went downhill between you and your parents, but still, you left us, too. I was lonely. Do I still love Mason? Maybe, but not the way you think. He was one of my closest friends, and what I do miss is bein’ part of a group. In fact, I miss bein’ part of our group. I miss the way Mason made me feel as if I was the center of his universe, even when it wasn’t true. He does everythin’ with a single-minded determination we both know only too well. Problem was, Mason was never mine, and I technically knew that when I started dating him. I wanted things to work so badly that I was blind. Seriously, things were crazy for a while, and I hated Mason because seeing him hurt like hell. But I was to blame, too. God, Tay, what do you wanna hear?”

She had no idea, but it sure wasn’t more half-truth and lies.

“You know, if you ever feel like you can tell me the truth, all of it, come and find me. We used to be best friends, and I think I deserve more than what you’re dishing out. I know I’ve been gone for a while, but you were always like a sister to me.” To her dismay, tears sprang to her eyes.

“Since when do sisters leave each other? Which horrible person would leave their siblings to fend for themselves?” Ashley cried, and Taylor felt the words hit her like a punch to her stomach. She had left her sister and her friends because she hadn’t seen any other way.

“Yeah, who does that?” She raised the bottle back to her lips, food forgotten. She was more than glad that Timothy wasn’t home. She had no idea if there’d be more alcohol at the house, but for now, she had little over half of the vodka bottle left, and she sure had enough determination to find more. Stepping back, she bit her lip. Shaking her head and deciding that this talk was over, she turned away.