Call Me Michigan (8 page)

“Tay! Wait! That wasn’t what I meant. I … Michigan! Where the hell you think you’re going?”

“Back home, where this horrible person should’ve been for the last ten years,” she called over her shoulder.

“It’s two miles, you stubborn woman! You’re halfway drunk and … just let me tell the others that I’ll take you home and will be back later,” Ashley pleaded.

“Thank you, but no thank you. I need to clear my thoughts … head. The thing on my shoulder.” She tipped her temple, grinning widely. “You know, to air it all out or whatever you call it. You get the drift.” She kept walking, gritting her teeth against the bitter burn of the alcohol. She couldn’t remember the last time any of that poison had crossed her lips. That was unless Mason’s alcohol-induced kiss counted.

God, Mason …

She longed to be close to him and have him promise her that things would be okay.

Then again, maybe she should just help her best friend get back her own life.

***

“What the hell, Sybil?”

“How was I supposed to know that she had no idea?”

Even over the cheering, Mason recognized the angry voices.

“Your ex is pissed again,” Brad commented, wolfing down his third hot dog.

“Yes, but I swear, I didn’t do it this time.” Mason laughed, ready to ignore the turmoil until Taylor’s name reached his ears.

“Taylor was gone for over a decade, and you think she knew? I didn’t tell her, and you can bet Mason didn’t have the balls to, either. I’m gonna leave and drive her tipsy city ass home,” Ash announced.

“Where is she?” Mason blurted out the question before realizing that he had gotten to his feet at Taylor’s absence. Ashley paled, but then relief crossed her face.

“She walked home. Or she intends to walk home. She took the bottle and left. I’m … Jesus.” Ashley was upset, and no matter what had happened between them, she was still a friend. Meeting her on the stairs, he took his time to hug her, promising her that he’d make it all right.

“Sybil mentioned that I should hate her for … coming between us. I couldn’t tell her the truth, and she took one look at me, knowing I lied. Then I might have uttered some words that made her feel as if she had neglected her family. I need to go and find her, but –”

“I’m gonna get her. If she’s drunk, it’s better if you two calm down first.” He brushed her cheek before walking down the stands.

Half drunk and on foot, Taylor couldn’t have gotten far. And really, just a few minutes later, he spotted her.

Stopping the truck at the side of the road, he called out her name. At the sound of his voice, she spun around, dropping the nearly empty bottle. Her cheeks were tear-stained, yet his heart squeezed at her beauty.

“Ashley sssssstill loves you,” she slurred, holding out her hand as if there’d be a wall that could steady her. Mason swallowed at those words. Despite the fact that things were strained enough between him and Ashley, Taylor would stay away from him now no matter what if she thought she could make things work again for him and her former best friend.

“Get in the car, Michigan,” he mumbled and then went to her side to pick up the discarded plastic bottle. He took one sniff and was shocked that Taylor was still walking upright. The juice in that mix was probably only for color purposes.

“I’m not getting in an enclosed space with you. Especially not if it’s all tight and closed.”

“That’s the definition of enclosed space, Michigan,” he stated absent-mindedly as his heart cracked wildly inside his chest. Alcohol made people honest, and the woman in front of him was no exception. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “And why would that be anyway?”

“Because I’m lonely and a woman?”

What. The. Fuck? Mason almost burst with anger until she uttered her next words. “I might end up begging you for cuddles and whatnot.” The vulnerability in her voice nearly did him in.

“Oh, Michigan,” he groaned, dumping the single bottle in the back of his truck before walking after the blonde who stubbornly moved forward.

“Don’t ‘Michigan’ me!”

“What in the world do you want me to call you then?” he wondered, throwing up his arms in frustration.

Again, she turned back to him, her wet cheeks illuminated by his headlights. It was obvious that she had an answer on the tip of her tongue, making him wonder what tipsy Taylor would confess, but then she shook her head and lowered her eyes, continuing her walk.

“Stop or I’ll throw you over my shoulder,” he threatened, and she shrugged a slim shoulder, clearly not worried in any way.

“Whatever,” she slurred. He cursed under his breath and marched back to his truck, only to drive and park twenty feet ahead of Taylor. She was furiously wiping at her cheeks, trying to stop the tears from falling, but she obviously failed miserably.

“What do you want me to call you?” he asked again, grabbing her wrists to keep her from running away.

“Nothing you should be calling me. Nothing I should want you to call me if I want to mend things with my best friend.” She lowered her arms as new tears spilled down her cheeks. “I want you to call me things I didn’t think I’d still want you to call me after more than a decade. How about you call me what you’ve always called me? Huh? Baby?” She didn’t make sense, switching gears and emotions like others switched TV channels, but he couldn’t resist.

“You want me to call you babe?” he inquired, surprised to realize that his voice had gone hoarse. Her lips parted in a small ‘o’ and then she swallowed.

“No.”

He more guessed the word than he had heard it, but there was no heat, no conviction behind it.

“Get in the car,” he ordered as she was swaying on her feet. “Jesus Christ, how did you get so drunk?”

She breathed deeply, but it didn’t seem to help. Her every step got sloppier, and she still refused to get in the car with him. “Nope, not getting in that truck with you and those beefy arms and tight chest and …” Her eyes widened, and she slapped her hands over her mouth, suppressing a giggle before she sobered again. “Mason, don’t you see? You and I together never worked. It wasn’t meant to be back then, and I can’t … Ah!” The tirade of her words ended as he placed an arm beneath her knee and the other behind her back before picking her up princess style. He would’ve thrown her over her shoulder like he threatened before if he wasn’t worried about her throwing up.

“You talk too much when you’re drunk,” he grunted, smirking over the compliments she had paid him. “You think my arms are beefy?”

She linked her hands behind his neck, her breath tickling his skin as she giggled and then probed his biceps. “You work out.” She said it as if that was all the confirmation he needed, and then she leaned her head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“You really are … Thank you.” She was soft and warm against him, and he had a hard time letting go as he placed her in his passenger seat.

“Can I finally take you home?” He waited for her to nod before moving around the hood of the truck, remembering the water bottle still in his gym bag. Rummaging through the backseat until he was successful in finding it, he handed the plastic bottle over. She grabbed it with a subdued thanks, emptying almost half of it as if he had told her to. He was even tempted to beg her to drink more but decided against it.

Eventually parking in front of her house, he couldn’t help but think how looming and lonely it looked. Taylor seemed to struggle to get away from him, and he hurried to follow her to the door.

“I can get to sleep by myself,” she promised, pressing her hands flat against his chest, trying to push him away. In the back of his mind appeared the same nagging feeling he’d had the night before.

“I’m not gonna leave you until I’ve tucked you into bed,” he insisted, and she seemed to crumble before him, looking suddenly terrible small and breakable. “Taylor Collins,” he growled, holding out his hand. She wordlessly dropped her keys into his palm, leaning against the wall next to the door, resting her head back. He unlocked her door, and she touched his arm, clearly seeing it as a last attempt.

“Drop it, Mase,” she pleaded weakly, but that only spurred him on more. He went inside and up the stairs, having been in the Collins’ house often because he had helped Tammy a lot. He opened door after door, looking for Taylor’s room and therefore her secret. He found Timothy’s room first, then Tamara’s and across from that an office with barely any room to maneuver inside. The last door he opened led him into a room, stale air greeting him. Obviously, no one had been in that one for quite a while.

He found Taylor exactly where he had left her, but to his surprise, she was a lot more sober than when he had left her.

“Where do you sleep, Michigan?”

Taylor wished for another juice bottle. Spiked, that was. The realization that Mason would discover the skeleton in her closet had sobered her up much more than she had wished for.

“Where. Do. You. Sleep?” His low growl accentuated every word, making her turn away from his scrutinizing gaze. She drowned her hands in her hair in frustration, wanting to hide behind the long strands instead of facing reality.

“In my parents’ old bedroom.” God, she was a pathetic liar, and even worse when being tipsy. The deaf would’ve recognized the false truth, had any been around. She couldn’t look at Mason, too ashamed of her weakness.

His anger was almost palpable as he stepped so close, his chest brushed against her back. “Why do you lie to me?” His breath ruffled her hair as he gritted those words out.

She breathed deeply a few times, and then closed her eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“You’ve always been so strong, Mase, and I thought you thought enough wrong with me that I had no intention of adding more. What woman comes home and then can’t enter her parents’ bedroom to clean it out? Worse, who’d be ready to admit to something like that? They sold everything that once was mine, and all pictures that included their eldest daughter are gone. Then they left my siblings to fend for themselves. I should hate them.” She paused, collecting her thoughts and trying to regain control of her shaking voice. “The minute I touch that doorknob, I feel ten years old. I’ve been sleeping on the sofa since got I here, making sure I’m up before Tammy and Timmy are. Now, the strong, independent girl you always considered not grown up enough proved you right. She turned into a woman who’s still not facing her fears,” she spat as anger suddenly overtook her. Taylor moved away from him. She snuck around her siblings because she couldn’t be the adult she should be, and self-hatred burned strongly through her veins.

Mason froze in his spot, his eyes turning almost black as storm clouds rolled in to hide the full moon.

“I never … Taylor, how in the world …” His eyes finally lifted without him ever finishing his sentence. Shaking his head, he locked her front door before walking around the front of his truck, nodding toward the passenger seat. He was upset; she could tell by the taut lines on his face, and it made her embarrassment vanish.

“Mason,” she whispered as she stepped in front of him instead of getting into her assigned seat.

“Get in the truck.” His voice was trembling, and he couldn’t even look at her.

She shook her head in refusal. She hated nothing more than making him mad. It had been that way back when, but now, it cut even deeper. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, touching his arm. He still didn’t look at her but focused on something above her head. To break his anger, she went on her tiptoes and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. He stiffened under her hands but didn’t reciprocate her hug. “I’m sorry,” she repeated against the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong. I’m sorry.” Suddenly, he gathered her into his arms, holding her warm and tight in a cocoon that made her feel safer than anything else ever could.

“I never thought anything was wrong with you, Taylor, not once. And knowing you thought … What kind of bad friend am I if I made you feel you lacked anything?” he pondered, rubbing his hands gently across her back.

She kissed his shoulder out of impulse, and then rested her head back against it. “You were always one of my best friends, always there when I needed you, so don’t worry or feel bad,” she pleaded, brushing her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

“And because of that, you move your butt into my truck and sleep in my bed.”

She stepped back, hugging herself, her fingertips digging into her upper arms as she told herself to stop standing around and go back inside. “Thank you for the offer, but I need to get up early. I need to run to our suppliers and maybe find some new ones. While Timmy’s out, I figured I’d use the day,” she pointed out. He groaned, but she didn’t let him speak. “No, Mason, I –”

She was interrupted as yet again he picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously in his front seat, careful not to hit her head.

“You’ll come along now, and tomorrow, we’ll worry about the rest.” He walked back around his truck and then got in next to her.

“I cannot go in there, Stiles. Everything reminds me of their disapproval. Besides, what if …” She let the thought go unfinished as Mason placed his hand on her knee, squeezing it gently.