by Kade Charest
It took a few seconds for Derrick to process this. “Uh, right. Off to bed.” He easily scooped Taylor up as he stood. Damn, she is light, he thought, too light. He mindlessly took the stairs and headed to his bedroom. It wasn’t the teenage den it had been when he lived here; it had been updated to something more subdued over the years, but it still had the essence of Derrick. He took Taylor to the bed and tucked her in. She still wore the sundress she had donned earlier, and Derrick figured she would be comfortable enough.
Scoping out the room, he settled on the corner lounger for the night. Though he wanted to sleep next to Taylor, their encounter in the kitchen was still burned into his brain, and he couldn’t trust himself not to jump on her if he put himself that close. And he was certain she would be pissed if she found him there. He was so tired from watching her sleep the night before that he knew he wouldn’t wake up before she did like he had this morning and be able to hightail it out of the bed before she caught him with her.
He was just kicking off his shoes and settling back in the chair when Taylor sat up and shouted, “Derrick!”
“Hey, hey,” he said, moving to her side instantly. He sat on the bed and rubbed both her arms. “I’m here, I’m right here.”
Taylor reached up and grabbed his forearms; she could barely keep her arms up. “I thought you left,” she said to him breathlessly and then added urgently, “please don’t leave.”
“I told you I wouldn’t leave you, and I won’t, Tay. You can trust me.”
She looked torn for a minute, as if she were weighing his words. Suddenly Derrick hated himself, a lot. Then she shocked him out of his pity party. “Sleep with me?” she asked, her eyes wide and pleading.
His pants instantly became way too tight in front of his cock. “Ah …”
“Please?” she implored.
Derrick thought he was going to disgrace himself for the first time since junior high.
“I just can’t be alone in this place. Please just sleep in the bed with me. It’s big enough—please.”
He felt like she’d dumped cold water right over his head as he realized she meant the word ‘sleep’ literally. “Uh, yeah. Of course, yeah,” he replied.
Taylor looked instantly more relaxed and lay back down.
Derrick got up painfully and walked to the other side of the bed. He didn’t take off his jeans, but he did remove his shirt and lay on the bed, on top of the covers.
“Get under the blankets—you’ll be more comfortable,” Taylor said gruffly at him, half asleep. She shoved the blankets down for him.
Doubtful, Derrick thought to himself. Just the idea of being so close to her body now was bad, never mind without the linen barrier. “Nah, I’m …”
“Damn it, Derrick,” Taylor mumbled, suddenly sitting up and pushing the blankets down. She looked at him, irritated. “What the heck? Take off your damn jeans and get in bed,” she commanded, looking totally irked. “It’s a freaking king. I won’t touch you.”
Bummer, his libido thought, and Derrick told it to fuck off. Taylor was still sitting up, clearly exhausted, and looking at him with the well-come-on look. He got up, pulled off the jeans, and slid under the covers. Finally she flopped back and rolled onto her stomach.
“Thank you, Derrick,” she said, letting out a heavy sigh. “I really appreciate it.”
“Anything for you, Taylor,” he answered, but he could tell by her soft rhythmic breathing that she was already asleep. Derrick blew out a big breath and thought about baseball, world geography, Nan naked—anything to try and push back the overwhelming desire he felt right now and prayed for sleep to come his way.
Chapter Seven
Taylor’s dream was really just a bunch of memories of she and Derrick strung together, a steady stream of things she had tried to forget.
There had never been anyone else for Taylor like Derrick. He had been her first friend, her partner in crime for all their crazy escapades, and the only other person who really understood the life they lived. Taylor couldn’t imagine going a day without talking to him, and thankfully their mothers made certain that she never had to worry about it. The women were always together and, therefore, so were their children.
So when he threw his “You just don’t get me” bullshit at Taylor, she thought she was going to die. Her chest closed up the second it happened, and she eventually collapsed to the floor, which in retrospect was way too much drama. But when her mom picked her up from the nurse, Taylor couldn’t even find the words to tell her, just tears.
When finally her story came spilling out, over ice cream and Shirley Temples, her mom was quiet for a while. It wasn’t often that Elizabeth Preston had no words.
“He’s changing, Taylor,” she finally said.
“Obviously,” Taylor replied with a dizzying eye roll.
Elizabeth smirked and shook her head, “No. He is changing, Taylor. He needs to find himself and figure things out. And, honestly, sweetie, you probably don’t get what he is going through right now.”
Tears filled Taylor’s eyes. “You are supposed to tell me he is stupid,” she whispered.
“Aw, honey, I know. But I love Derrick—I can’t call him stupid,” Elizabeth said, pulling her daughter into a hug.
“I love him too,” Taylor said softly against her mother’s arm.
“And I think that is the one thing you and Derrick do have in common right now,” Elizabeth said. “Give him time, Taylor, I am sure he will come back around.”
And so Taylor waited: days, weeks, months went by, and she heard nothing from Derrick. He seemed to have wiped Taylor and anything she had ever meant to him from his brain. She would still see Marty, but Marty had her own friends and was allowed to do activities that Taylor never was. But still Taylor would go to the Fletcher home, but only when she was sure that Derrick wasn’t there. It was one thing for him to ignore her in public, but something else for him to pretend that she didn’t exist in a place that held so many amazing memories of them being friends.
But then Delia died.
When her mom told her the news, Taylor was broken-hearted, for herself, for her mother, and for the Fletcher family. “I have to go there, Taylor,” her mother told her.
“I want to come.”
Her mother hesitated, “Derrick is there,” she told Taylor. She knew Taylor never wanted to be there when he was, and her mother always did whatever she could to protect Taylor.
Now Taylor hesitated. “I still want to go,” she told her mother. Despite all the hurt he had put her through, for God only knew why, Taylor could not neglect these people she loved like family when they hurt.
So they went, going into the mansion through the kitchen and up to the family gathering room, where Marty and Simon were. Taylor launched herself onto Marty when she saw her while her mother went to Simon. The sound of crying and sorrow filled the room, but everyone was broken apart by the sound of a wail from down the hall.
Taylor scanned the room for an answer, but Marty just cried harder. Simon glared down the hall in the direction of the noise, and Taylor’s mother looked just as confused as she felt.
When another sound of agony followed by a crash came from down the hall again, realization crossed Elizabeth’s face. “Is that Derrick?” she asked Simon, who gave a quick nod, irritation all over his face. “I’ll go to him,” she said as she left the room.
Taylor continued to hold Marty and let her cry. She knew nothing she said could ease her pain or bring back her mother, but at least she could hold her and let her know she wasn’t alone. Taylor looked over and saw Simon at the windows overlooking the yard. His head and shoulders sagged, as if they were too heavy for him to hold up. Taylor had never seen Simon look so defeated. But when another wail came from down the hall, his posture changed from deflated to tense and agitated. He turned his head slightly to the noise, entirely stiff with the movement, and glowered in the direction of the sound.
“He’s been screaming since he came home,” Marty
whispered to Taylor between hiccups. “He wasn’t here when she died.”
Taylor’s heart broke that he didn’t get to say good-bye to his mother. Derrick had never been great at dealing with things that bothered him or things that didn’t go his way. Mostly it was because the guilt ate him up.
“Taylor!”
Taylor stiffened as the same disembodied voice that had been wailing since she arrived now called out her name.
“Taylor! Please! I want to see her!”
Taylor’s breath came out in little pants as Derrick called out to her. Why was he calling her? She hadn’t spoken to him in years. He had pushed her out. Why would he call to her?
“Taylor!”
Marty cried harder each time Derrick called out, clutching to Taylor even more, and Taylor just held her tighter.
When there was a tap at Taylor’s shoulder, she looked to see her mom there with an uneasy expression. “Taylor, Derrick would like to see you,” she said warily.
Taylor felt her eyes go wide, and she shook her head quickly at her mother. Now she was clinging to Marty.
“Taylor! Please!”
Marty loosened her hold on Taylor and leaned back. “Please go to him,” she asked, her eyes full of concern.
Taylor’s panicked eyes darted between her mother and Marty. She really didn’t want to go in there, she wasn’t sure she could handle being around Derrick.
“Taylor!” Derrick screeched from down the hall.
“Please, Taylor,” Marty pleaded next to her.
“Taylor, he needs a friend,” her mom added gently, while smoothing Taylor’s hair.
Taylor felt trapped with no real way out of it. She didn’t want to say no and risk hurting everyone more than they already did. Taking a deep breath, she nodded, rose from the couch, and made her way down the hall to Derrick’s bedroom.
The door was shut, and Taylor hesitated in front of it. You can do this, she gave herself a pep talk. It was the same one she gave herself every day before she had to go and face Derrick at school. Finally, she took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door, but there was no response. She waited for a while, hearing nothing but her own pulse echoing in her ears, and then she finally pushed the door open.
Taylor recoiled as she took in the space: The pictures had been ripped from the walls. Derrick’s desk was broken in two. His computer was smashed, a bat lying on top of the rubble. There were chairs overturned and smashed pieces of knick knacks everywhere.
“Derrick?” Taylor called with her wavering voice into the chaos. It was so quiet she was suddenly worried something had happened to him.
“Tay?” a muffled voice came from the corner, behind the mattress and box spring lying on its side.
Taylor made her way through the debris to the sound. As she peered behind the mattresses, she found Derrick sitting with his back against the wall, and he looked at her in disbelief.
“Derrick, are you okay?” Taylor asked as she came and crouched before him.
“My mom is gone,” he said softly to her.
Taylor nodded. “I know. I’m so sorry, Derrick,” she said, seeing the pain that crossed his face as he said it out loud.
Derrick kept staring at Taylor, his forehead scrunched as he looked at her. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said and reached out a hand to touch her face.
“Oh my God, Derrick!” Taylor exclaimed as she saw blood dripping from his hand. She grabbed his hand and pulled it so she could see it. Then she did the same with the other hand still in his lap. The knuckles of each of his hands were split open and bleeding. Taylor looked up and saw holes in the wall—the reason for the bleeding, she was sure.
“These look bad, let me get my mom—”
“No!” he shouted, moving his hands to her face. “Please don’t leave,” he begged her, his face full of panic.
“Derrick, we need to clean these up,” Taylor said, lightly touching the back of his hands as they rested on her cheeks. But he made no move. “Let’s go in the bathroom and clean them,” Taylor said, looking into his eyes and nodding. Derrick started nodding with her.
Taylor stood and Derrick scrambled up behind her and grabbed her hand. Taylor froze for a moment and looked down to where their hands were connected, but the sight of Derrick’s beat-up hands reminded her of her task.
They made their way through the debris and into the bathroom, where Taylor washed his hands and then went through the cabinets to find bacitracin and Band-Aids.
“Why did you do this, Derrick?” she asked as she coated his knuckles with the ointment.
“I was mad,” he said as he watched her take care of his hands.
Taylor shook her head. “You have to control your temper. You can’t just—”
“Destroy things. I know,” he answered apologetically, like a child.
Taylor finished bandaging him. “All set,” she said as she put on the final Band-Aid.
Derrick looked at his fixed-up hands and flexed his fingers. Then he met Taylor’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly.
Taylor smiled a small smile at him, and the two stood looking at each other for probably twenty seconds, but it felt like a year. Taylor broke eye contact first, becoming uncomfortable with Derrick’s stare. “Do you want to go out with Marty?”
Derrick just shook his head.
“What do you want? Oooph,” Taylor made the noise as Derrick pulled her into him, squeezing her close. Taylor closed her eyes and breathed deeply, taking in Derrick’s smell. It was familiar, and it gave her back the butterflies she’d had for years when she saw him. But the memories made her sad, and she was just about to tell him to let her go when she felt wetness on her neck and realized Derrick was crying.
Taylor moved her arms around him and rubbed his back the way her mother did whenever she cried, “I’m sorry, Derrick,” she whispered to him. She was sorry for a lot: that his mom had died, that she hadn’t wanted to help him, and that she’d nearly pushed him away.
Derrick’s shoulders shook, and slowly his sobs became louder and louder. “I miss my mom,” he sobbed at one point, and Taylor silently cried as he let out his hurt. “I wasn’t here. She went, and I wasn’t here.”
“It’s okay, Derrick,” Taylor soothed.
“She didn’t know how much I love her. I didn’t tell her.” He sobbed, and Taylor was shocked at his words.
“Derrick, of course she knew,” Taylor assured him, but he just shook his head and sobbed.
Taylor pulled herself back from him. “Derrick, look at me,” she demanded, “look!”
Finally Derrick locked his bloodshot gaze with hers.
“Your mom knew how much you love her. She knew because you smiled at her whenever you saw her, because you never forgot her birthday, because you listen when she talked. Just because you didn’t tell her, just because you weren’t with her when she … uh, weren’t there when … um, didn’t get to see her at the end doesn’t mean she didn’t know.”
Tears ran down his cheeks. “Do you think she was mad at me?” he asked.
“No! Why would she be mad at you?”
“I haven’t been home a lot lately, and I haven’t been a good person to—”
“She wasn’t mad, Derrick. Your mom loved you, and she knew you loved her. End of story.”
Derrick searched Taylor’s face. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered as more tears fell, and he pulled her back into a hug.
Taylor bit her tongue, literally. Then why haven’t you called me? she thought. Why did you push me away? But now was not the time to ask. He was hurting, and asking him to give her answers now would only make it worse. And it probably wouldn’t make her feel better.
“Will you hang in here with me?” he asked her, leaning back from the hug.
“Sure.”
Derrick led her back out into his chaotic mess of a room and looked almost surprised at what he had done. “Uh, we can sit—”
“How about here,” Taylor said, pointing to the
only clean spot on the floor, and Derrick nodded.
As they sat on the floor, Derrick pulled her to him and held her. “Thank you for being here, Taylor. I’ve missed you.”
Taylor’s head spun with confusion. There she sat between Derrick’s legs, her back to his chest, his arms around her on the floor of his bedroom. What did this mean? Were they friends again? What had happened all the years before? Taylor was almost at her breaking point on keeping quiet. Years—they had gone years without even seeing each other, and now he was hugging her and saying he missed her. It was his decision to not see her in the first place. Taylor fumed.
Derrick tightened his hold on Taylor and started running his fingers through her hair. She felt his body relax as he slid his finger through her blond locks, and if she was being honest she felt herself relax too.
They were silent for a long time, and then Derrick spoke. “She was really sick,” he finally said.
Taylor nodded against his chest.
“I didn’t know she was going to get so sick,” he said. And slowly Derrick talked about it, about his mom’s cancer, about when he found out, about the treatments, and about when she came home with hospice. He slowly poured out what happened and how he felt. He talked until his voice got scratchy and hoarse. And Taylor just sat and listened and let him get it out.
When he was done speaking, Taylor looked around. “Want me to help you clean up?”
“Nah, I made the mess. I should clean it.”
Taylor leaned forward and turned, narrowing her gaze at Derrick. “You’re going to have the staff clean it up, aren’t you?” Derrick just smirked and shrugged his shoulders, causing Taylor to roll her eyes and laugh.
“You are unbelievable, Ken Doll.”
“Ken Doll? Really, Taylor?” Derrick said in irritation. “You know how much I hate that nickname. Now you have to pay the consequences.” Derrick started to full-on tickle Taylor, causing her to laugh, and kick, and breathlessly beg him to stop.