I barely remember drifting off last night, just that Taylor’s voice had been the last sound in the room. Soft, steady, carrying something warm enough to keep me from collapsing all the way into pieces.
Now, the only thing I’m aware of is the ache in my ankle and the faint sound of someone breathing on the floor.
Taylor.
He was curled up in a mess of blanket and pillow like some oversized kid, one arm tossed across his face, chest rising and falling steadily. He’d stayed. He’d actually called his mom last night to let her know he wouldn’t be back. I’d caught the brief shadow across his expression then, his voice low, almost hesitant as he told her. For just a second, his features had clouded over, heavy and lost in thought. But almost as quickly, he’d shaken it off, plastering on his usu
