by Haley Cass
“Rita, it’s Sunday. Where do you think she’s going?” Mrs. Andrews rolled her eyes. “Like she hasn’t been having Sunday dinner at Thistle Drive since she was knee-high to a grasshopper.”
She, as many of the older residents did, referenced the Vandenberg manor by its location. Not nearly as ostentatious as many of the other more expensive homes in Faircombe, the Vandenberg house had been the first building on Thistle Drive, one of the only homes located so centrally that it was visible from the center of town.
The original structure had been built in 1835, when Charles Vandenberg had become one of the founders of the city; it was just one of the facts about Faircombe that you learned when you were little, one of the things you picked up along the way even if you couldn’t pinpoint who’d taught it to you.
Mrs. Hibbard glared at her friend. “Well, Sandy, maybe Brooke’s going to see her paramour. It would be about time.”
Brooke groaned, dropping her head into her hands. She shouldn’t have even come over here. She shouldn’t have. Because she knew exactly where this was going, and her stomach was already heavy with the anticipation, even before –
“Her lover was in Southern California! Unless she’s come here?” Ms. Kellerman cut in, entirely too excited by the idea. “Oh, that would just be good as all get out. Did she come here to see you?”
Fuck my life, fuck it hard.
“No!” The word left her in a shout, far too loud, before she hushed her voice, “And I told y’all before; I don’t have a… lover.”
There was just no way she could think about Taylor as her lover. And she certainly wasn’t a current one.
It had been over two weeks since she’d returned back home, and in those two and a half weeks, Brooke had plenty of time to berate herself for whatever the hell she’d done.
It had to have been the combination of it all: feeling out of place in a big, new city and reeling from royally messing up at the conference, seeing Taylor had just felt… better than dealing with it all alone. Not only was that weird enough, but then she’d screwed herself by inviting Taylor into her room and drinking that wine.
Oh, yeah, and asking Taylor to set the scene as if they’d been on a date. Really, Brooke.
Looking back, it was easy to see how it had happened. Easy to rationalize how it’d all went down. But, damn herself, it had been such a mistake. She’d barely been able to look Ben in the eye for days.
It was too overwhelming to think about. So, she didn’t, as much as she could help it. With her nights alone at her house, she’d always cut her mind off from going there. No thinking about Taylor’s long fingers or the shape of her lips or the way she’d laughed when she’d pressed her mouth –
Yeah, no.
She’d either work or work out until she was exhausted enough to drop into sleep without thinking about Taylor or San Diego. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to think about Taylor often. There was simply no reason to. That was one of the beauties of the safety of Faircombe.
Mrs. Andrew shot her a look that read clearly yeah, right. “We all saw your neck, honey.”
Brooke’s chest and neck flushed with heat, the mortification settling in deep. Fucking Taylor. Ben had held his hands up in defeat and not asked more questions when he’d seen how serious she’d been about not talking about it. Thankfully, because she likely would have stumbled over her words enough that he’d be suspicious. These ladies were slightly less accepting of those boundaries than Ben was.
Ms. Kellerman nodded decisively. “I think it’s good for you. There’re so many more gay people in California than there are here, even with times changing. And you’re such a good girl, you need someone; especially with Scarlet getting engaged and all.”
Okay, that checked the final box of things she was not going to talk about.
She gripped the handles of her Tupperware, picking up the bowl. “On that note, I’m going to be late to dinner. Try to keep the damage to a minimum. And don’t talk about my love life anymore,” she ordered.
She had far less faith that they’d follow that order than the one about the mall. And she knew better than to believe they’d keep mum about that for long, either.
It could drive her insane, but it was what it was.
She’d already lifted the Tupperware and taken a step away from the table when Mrs. Andrews leaned in, voice alight with gossipy excitement once again. “Oh, guess who rolled into town early this morning?”
“How would you know, you sleep like the dead,” Mrs. Hibbard shot back, and it made Brooke snort as she stepped off the curb and headed toward Ben’s.
It was in sight from here, across the square, nestled in like it belonged with all of the public service buildings in the surrounding area.
Her eyebrows drew down in confusion as she climbed the steps up the porch. There was music – indie pop, Juliet Jacobs to be specific, definitely not Ben’s genre – filtering out through the open windows, louder than Ben ever had music playing.
And she could distinctly hear Jo laughing along with it. A rare occurrence in the last year, ever since the divorce. Jo went through the typical ups and downs of adolescence, but she’d definitely embraced more of the sullen teenager aspect of it all when her mom had moved two towns over with her new boyfriend.
Curious, she walked slowly toward the door and shook her head. She shouldn’t question the good time being had inside, but at the same time, it felt so… not normal.
She didn’t knock or ring the doorbell; she hadn’t done that at this home since she’d been sixteen.
Not since Amy had opened the door before Brooke could properly knock and had warmly but sternly informed her that if Brooke continued to act like she wasn’t family and rang that doorbell one more time, it would be the death of her.
The moments after she walked inside all happened too fast for Brooke to properly realize what was going on.
One second, she was walking through the foyer and into the living room, just like she always did.
That still happened. Only, this time, the next second she stepped into the living room, someone collided with her. In one fell swoop, she felt liquid pour over her jacket, she lost the grip on her bowl which then landed on her feet, as she was tripping backwards, the momentum knocking her entirely off-balance.
“Christ!”
A warm, strong hand landed on her arm, steadying her enough that she was barely able to keep herself from falling flat on her ass.
As her heart pounded in her chest from the surprise, she reflexively reached to grip the hand that steadied her.
And it was the hand she noticed first.
Slender, long tan fingers held fast at her bicep, with short, well-kept fingernails. Brooke knew those fingers. She knew very well because nineteen days ago, those fingers had mapped a path all over her body. She knew because nineteen days ago, when Brooke had been half-asleep, Taylor had slid her hand onto Brooke’s hip and the touch had woken Brooke up enough that her eyes had focused there for several beats, her mind not thinking about the fact that it was Taylor’s hand until Brooke had slipped easily into an exhausted sleep.
Her heart pounded in her chest as her mind just refused to believe what she was seeing.
There was just no way Taylor was back in town because why would she be? It wasn’t a holiday or a birthday or any sort of special occasion.
“I believe you are late for dinner. Is this a first in history?” That teasing lilt over that husky voice was unmistakable, even if Brooke’s mind was screaming against it being real.
She could distinctly hear that horror movie music as she slowly turned her gaze to actually confirm –
Yep. Taylor stood less than a foot away, her dark hair tossed into a messy bun atop her head, in a tight green T-shirt and a pair of jeans that had fraying holes over the knees, with bare feet sticking out the bottom.
She looked irritatingly perfect even now. All Brooke could do for several long seconds was blink up at her as her stomach twisted in knot
s and she wondered if this was a dream.
A nightmare, to be exact.
What the hell was the universe trying to pull on her? And by the universe, she narrowed her eyes, she meant Taylor.
“Taylor?” As if she could possibly mistake her.
“Long time, no see,” she winked and… yes, this was real life. “Guess I’m two for two, huh.” Taylor’s grin was warm and as always, was also irritatingly perfect.
“What?” She snapped, shaking herself out of her daze and shaking Taylor’s hand off of her arm along with it.
Taylor gestured to Brooke’s jacket, which she only then remembered was wet.
Annoyance zipped through her and she welcomed it with open arms above the alarm and unease and shock twisting through her stomach.
“It’s just water. That should teach me to dance with Jo while attempting to stay hydrated at the same time,” Taylor laughed, sounding entirely at-ease.
Then again, it’s not like she’d be blindsided by seeing Brooke in Faircombe. And, adding to her annoyance somehow, she didn’t think Taylor would be thrown by seeing her even if it had been a surprise. It hadn’t been Taylor who had come to her senses and realized they’d made a giant mistake.
“Auntie Taylor’s here,” Jo informed her needlessly, and it startled Brooke to realize she hadn’t noticed they weren’t alone.
Jo’s smile was far brighter than Brooke had seen it at a Sunday dinner in a while and she resolutely focused on that as she took a step back from Taylor. She managed a tense smile back, her voice terse, “I see that.”
But why? The question pounded through her head.
“Jo, honey, can you go grab me a towel?” Taylor gestured to the remainder of the water and the plastic cup she’d been drinking from, now on the floor.
As Jo acquiesced, running out of the room, Brooke jerkily unzipped her jacket and tugged it off, taking another conscious step back away from Taylor, mind still reeling.
This was not supposed to be happening. That night in San Diego was bound to bite her in the ass at some point, but… but Brooke usually went a couple of years without seeing Taylor! By the time they were supposed to see each other again in the future, Brooke wasn’t supposed to remember quite so clearly all of the details of that night.
“Then again, maybe I’m not exactly two for two. This time, with the water, was my fault for sure. The wine in San Diego, I think that was more on you,” Taylor spoke contemplatively, full of mirth, before her tone dipped lower. “Though, I will share in the blame, since it’s not like I was entirely innocent.”
“Did you come all the way here to tease me about that night?” She hissed, giving the only thought that could possibly make any sense a voice before bending down to grab at the bowl of spaghetti that – thankfully – hadn’t spilled all over the floor, to give herself something to do instead of stare.
“Yes, I flew all the way here to give you shit for ghosting me in a hotel room,” Taylor’s voice was filled with barely contained laughter.
Brooke scowled, clenching her jaw tightly. “Well, you haven’t been back since your parents moved, and now after we…” She cleared her throat, “Saw each other in San Diego, you’re all of the sudden here. What am I supposed to think? What’s going on?”
And the fact that Taylor was reticent, no comeback on her lips or explanation for her sudden visit, made Brooke take a step back, tilting her head up at her. Did she believe, truly, with whatever rational thought she could muster, that Taylor would go out of her way to come to a place she didn’t particularly love to visit, to see Brooke about that night?
No, not really.
Except her silence was suspicious, as was the way Taylor’s endlessly dark eyes seemed to be totally blank, her forehead scrunched up in thought.
“You mind not making a total mess of Brooke and the house?” Ben’s voice rang out as he turned the music down from the other side of the room. His words sounded almost playful, but both Brooke and Taylor knew him enough to hear a serious note in them, too.
Brooke wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved at his presence – a comfort – or even more panicked. Because she certainly was never going to tell him that she’d slept with his sister, and – please – she hoped to any god willing to lend an ear that Taylor wouldn’t by way of teasing comment, either.
Taylor, instead, saluted her brother as Jo ran back in and handed her a towel. She squatted to clean, giving Brooke a clear view down –
Hell no.
She stomped over to where Ben stood, his arms crossed, a look of consternation on his face that matched very closely the jumble of feelings in Brooke’s stomach.
“Why didn’t you tell me Taylor was coming to town?” She demanded, barely remembering to keep her voice down.
“I didn’t know, ’til she showed up this morning,” he muttered back.
She – well, she figured that was true. Ben rarely kept things from her.
“I can hear you, and I left a message with your receptionist,” Taylor shot back from across the room, her voice remarkably light, with just an edge of seriousness underlining her words. “Last week.”
Ben rubbed his eyes with his fingers as he sighed. “Brent is brand new and barely is getting the hang of writing down my work related messages.”
Taylor stood, the damp towel in her hand, as she tilted her head, eyes still bright in amusement and challenge. A challenge Brooke didn’t think she ever saw with anyone but Ben. “And somehow that’s my fault?” Her eyes landed sharply behind where Ben stood in the doorway. “And someone was supposed to discuss it with you beforehand.”
Brooke was entirely unsurprised to see Savannah as she stood next to Ben, coming in from the other room, with a smile that said, “I would be sorry and I kind of am, but not really?” on her face. “I told Taylor I’d talk to you about the details, Ben, I really did. That’s on me.” She aimed her bright smile at her older brother.
Brooke narrowed her eyes at the look; it was all very… suspicious, and her gut did not like it. At all. Any of it.
Taylor sighed. “And I already told you, if you want me to stay at Savannah’s or in town, then –”
Jo cut Taylor off, whipping her head around to stare at Ben, her pale blonde hair flying with the movement. “Dad!” Gone was the laughter from when Brooke walked in, replaced with annoyance, pleading, and a defiant set of her jaw. A much more familiar look as of late. “Seriously? You can’t ask Auntie Taylor to not stay with us; she’s, like, the coolest person in the literal world! And this is her house, too.”
Ben sighed, tossing his hands in the air in retreat. “Taylor’s not going anywhere. I was just saying some more advanced notice would be great.”
Savannah clapped her hands together, clearly ready to push through this, whatever this was. “All right! Brooke cooked and she’s finally here –”
Brooke tore her gaze from Taylor and was almost glad for the indignation she felt at Savannah’s comment. Something normal, at least. “It’s two minutes past six!”
“Two minutes late feels like a lifetime for you,” Taylor commented as she made her way across the room, winking at Brooke as she did.
She ignored the apt comment, the wink, and the twist in her stomach at it.
Savannah ushered them all through the wide double doorway. “Aaaanyway, since Brooke cooked, it means we have something delicious to look forward to, so… let’s do it!” She turned to Brooke, smile brightening. A smile she and Ben shared, a warm one, the same one as their mom. Not the same one as Taylor, though.
She hated that her mind pointed that out.
“Hey! Spaghetti? I heard you got a ton of tomatoes at the farmer’s market yesterday,” Savannah’s blue eyes peered down into the bowl Brooke carried.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Tell me you didn’t kill yourself working today. On a Sunday,” Ben chimed in, taking the bowl from her and placing it on the dining room table. “Tell me you relaxed and cooked and chilled out.”
&n
bsp; “All right. I relaxed and cooked and chilled out,” she echoed back, arching her eyebrows at him with a disingenuous saccharine smile.
Jo snorted. “Brooke doesn’t know how to chill out.”
Taylor let out a bark of laughter, mirrored closely by Savannah’s, and Brooke narrowed her eyes as she flicked Jo on the shoulder.
She took her normal seat at the dining room table. Ben and Savannah now sat at the respective heads of the table, while Jo sat across from Brooke, just like every Sunday.
It was only then that she realized the empty chairs left were either next to her or next to Jo.
And of course, Taylor slid into the chair next to her own. Brooke’s stomach clenched at the proximity, as she breathed in through her nose and slowly let it out, before she turned her head, and eyed Taylor warily.
Taylor merely lifted an eyebrow, eyes dancing. “You going to move away from me?”
“No,” she bit out. “This is fine.”
If fine meant that Brooke was internally cursing herself. She never did stuff like that. Never slept with the wrong person or had a one night stand. It turned out it was for good reason, because clearly the universe loved to punish her.
Taylor grinned, leaning in closer, her hand falling onto Brooke’s thigh as she did so, heat racing up Brooke’s leg at the touch. Her bright smile illuminated her face. “This is how we used to sit, remember? You’d sit on my side, across from Ben.”
Brooke did remember. Of course, she remembered; those dinners had been hell for her when Taylor had been around. As soon as she’d hit puberty, it felt like her hormonal body was on overdrive sitting this close to her. Like every nerve jumped when Taylor accidentally brushed against her when she’d adjust in her seat.
She’d selfishly loved it when Taylor had left town, deep down, in a place she never told anyone about.
Ben Sr. and Amy were sick with worry over her, and Ben was pissed at Taylor for leaving and causing their parents so much stress, while Savannah would frequently talk about how she missed her. Brooke didn’t like that these people she loved were hurting, and there was a part of her that was at times both worried about and annoyed with Taylor, too.