Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

12. Knox

Knox

By all accounts, I should be exhausted right now. I’ve slept roughly ten hours in the last forty-eight, but I let the excitement that bubbles in my stomach at the mere thought of spending the day with Taylor get me up and to the main house.

I peer up the stairway, wondering if she had decided to sleep the day away again instead. The bottom step creaks loudly under my boot, and I freeze when I hear a familiar laugh beyond the kitchen door. My fingers slip from the wood banister and I walk toward the kitchen, leaning my ear toward the swinging door.

“I’ve always used oil. I never thought of trying it with butter.”

“Oh yes, freshly churned butter will make all the difference,” my mum responds. “I obviously don’t do the churning anymore,” she pauses. “But it gets done nonetheless.”

“You might just catch me out there milking the cows and churning the butter next week.”

“Ooh, that I’d like to see, my little city girl.” My mum chuckles .

I crack the door open just enough to peek into the room and find Taylor sitting at the small round table in the corner of the kitchen. She sits with one leg propped up on the seat, the other dangling beneath her. The morning light from the window illuminates her blonde hair as it flows freely down her back. Tiny dust fragments bounce around her as she cups a steaming mug with two hands. Her head drops back on a laugh, but all the sounds escape me when I see her smile. Her smile rivals the sun.

“Would you like me to get Patrick to escort you on your adventure today?”

“Mmm.” She’s mid-sip. “No, that's okay. Actually, Knox is going to take me.” Her head snaps toward me, a cheeky grin aimed directly my way. Busted.

“Knox?” My mum’s head cranes toward me, following Taylor’s attention.

I walk into the kitchen. “Morning, Mum,” I say, coming to her side.

“Well, I didn’t have you down for chauffeur duties today.”

Taylor bites her lip, but it doesn’t stop the huff of a laugh that bubbles out of her. She leaves the small table and makes her way over to the other side of my mum, turning on the sink.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. I’ve got it. You two go, have fun.”

Our eyes meet from either side of my mum, and an electric current passes between us when our eyes lock.

“Let’s roll, love.”

In the enclosed space of my truck, Taylor’s scent envelops me. It’s the same scent that I’ve come to know as her . Unique. It’s a smell that evokes an almost nostalgic feeling in me. It calms me down but excites me at the same time. It’s earthy, but sweet. Its?—

“Are you meditating?”

“What?”

“You’re silent and doing a lot of deep breathing over there.”

I narrow my eyes at her, and her chest shakes with a small laugh. Smartass. Her laugh slowly tapers off, her attention drifting to the radio. She listens intently to the song that’s playing softly through the cab of the truck.

“Wait. I love this song,” she says, reaching over to turn it up.

We’ve made it out of the town and are flying down the open road. Taylor throws her head back, singing at the top of her tone-deaf lungs.

“Now you know my secret.” She lifts her shoulder to her chin with a sly smile.

“Thank God you’re beautiful because you can’t sing for shit?”

Her jaw falls open and she reaches across the seat bench to smack me lightly with the back of her hand.

“Count your lucky stars. Not everyone is special enough to get to hear me sing. It’s my ‘thank you’ for taking me today.”

“No thanks necessary.” She’s not offended and I like that. Nothing feels too serious with her. I’ve spent years of my life focusing on how to be the best at what I do—what’s going to give me the advantage on and off the pitch. Hell, even in my recovery time. I spent it constantly learning the best ways to recover. I don’t remember the last time I did anything for simple enjoyment. I don’t know if I’ve ever chosen to openly do something I’m not perfect at in front of an audience. The little time I’ve spent around Taylor makes me question the things I was missing.

“Mark my words, Browning. You’ll be begging to hear me sing for you again.” The emphasis she puts on the word begging has the blood rushing straight to my cock. I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “You know, I could’ve driven us.”

Her eyes dart to where my hand hangs out of my sling, holding the bottom of the steering wheel.

“You know how to drive stick?”

“I—” Her tongue pushes along the inside of her cheek and I have to look away. “Could figure it out.”

“I like your confidence.” I smile, shifting into fourth gear down one of my favorite stretches of open road. There are only a few ways of getting to the cliffs and this one is typically the least traveled.

“Did you always know you wanted to play Rugby?”

I nod. “I started young and then never thought about anything else.”

“So you got to play for a long time then.” It’s not a question. “Did that make it any easier? When you got injured, did you feel done?”

No. I tried to fight my coach and the nurse. I’m lucky I didn’t end up in a straight jacket after that day.

“I didn’t.” I run my hand over my jaw, considering how much I want to say before I land on the truth. “I was pissed when they told me I was done. I didn’t want to accept that it was the end for me. I knew it was the hardest hit I’d ever taken, that wasn’t a question. But, I was still so sure I would recover just like I had any other time.” My fingers tap along the steering wheel. “Accepting that I wasn’t going back was the hardest part. ”

“Would you have come home if you hadn’t been injured?”

I was at the top of my game and coming back wasn’t even on my radar, but now that I’ve been back and I’ve allowed myself to remember how much I loved this place and these people. It’s almost difficult to imagine leaving them again. I’ve fallen back in with my mates and my family so easily, and wherever Taylor is seems like a pretty good place to stay.

“I’d like to say yes, but honestly, probably not.” She bites her cheek and nods. “I couldn’t stay in my flat any longer though. Every day was a reminder of what I’d lost. And then I came back here and couldn’t bring myself to leave my house. I was stewing, pissed off at the world.”

“If this is you mad at the world, I'd hate for you to see me angry.”

I huff a laugh because Taylor is so easygoing and fun that it’s hard to imagine that could possibly set her off.

“Yeah,” I say, looking at her. “You got that pitbull in you, don’t you, baby?”

I turn my attention back to the road but I swear her cheeks turn a shade of watermelon pink.

“Anyway, I’m less angry now. I’ve accepted it—begrudgingly. My shoulder heals a bit more everyday, and now it’s just figuring out who I am without rugby. In so many ways, it feels like my identity has been taken away from me.”

“I can relate.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but I heard it all the same. I tilt my chin to her, encouraging her to continue. “I mean, I’ve obviously never been a professional athlete.” Her hand flits to me. “But I’ve also never found my thing.”

“Your thing?”

“Yeah, you know, everyone has something they want to do. Something they’re passionat e

about. I don’t know what my thing is. What I could see myself doing long term.”

“What did you want to do when you were younger?”

Her lips twist to the side. “I wanted to be a dolphin trainer.”

I bite my bottom lip, determined to not laugh. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I didn’t take it with me past fourth grade, and also, fuck the tanks.” She spits out,

throwing up both of her middle fingers.

Unable to hold my laughter, I prod for more information. “Okay, so after fourth grade, what? Nothing caught your interest?”

“Different things here and there. I get excited easily over a new project or new job, and I’ll think, this is it. This is my new personality, but it just never… sticks.”

“Taylor Nova, do you have commitment issues?” I tease her.

“Ding ding ding.” She leans into me, waving an imaginary bell around. “It’s not my fault though. It’s the ADHD.”

“Maybe it’s just because you haven’t actually found the real thing you’re passionate about.”

“Right. But I can’t always tell when I get hooked on something if it’s going to last six weeks, six months, or six years. So instead, I just play it safe. I keep a bunch of different jobs so that I never have to be tied down to one, and if I end up hating one, I drop it and pick up something else.”

“Well, what kinds of things make you feel most accomplished?” She looks over at me with her eyebrows all bunched together. “Like for me, winning back-to-back Championships is when I felt the most proud. Those were the moments I knew all my hard work was worth it. I finally got to see the payoff. What makes you feel proud? ”

“I don’t feel pride.”

I rear back because I’m certain she’s misunderstanding me. “When you finish something that you’ve spent a lot of time on, or when you reach a goal, you feel… what?”

“Relief.” My chest sinks at her words.

I’ve known Taylor for a handful of days, and her energy and light are infectious— they’ve gotten me out of my house when I had no intention of braving the sun. I want so badly to understand her and why she feels this way, but the shift in her posture looks far too similar to mine when I’m forced to talk about my injury. Instead of prodding, I tuck this crumb of insight about her life into my pocket for later, grateful that she’s given it to me.

“You said you moved to San Francisco for school. What did you go to school for?”

“For Camila.”

“Who’s Camila?”

“Who’s Camila?!” Her eyes blink rapidly. “The Local Lemon Drop Champion. The Pop-Tart Princess. The mejor amiga of all time!”

“Best friend?”

“She’s more than a best friend.” She says. “But only slightly less than a lover.”

“And she’s the reason you moved?” I ask, confused.

“She’s the one who wanted to go to school out there. I knew she would need a little coaxing, and I didn’t think she would do it on her own so I made a big deal about how badly I wanted to go and we decided one night that if we both got in, we would go.”

“That’s…”

“Crazy?” she cuts me off, but there’s a smile in her voice.

“I was going to say loyal.” I feel her eyes on the side of my face again. “Your parents didn’t mind? ”

“My parents weren’t around enough to care.” There is no sadness, anger, or judgment in her tone. She speaks no differently than if she were placing a coffee order. “They traveled a lot, saving baby animals and whatnot. They had their own shit.”

On the one hand, I want to bow down to the Novas for creating the incredibly beautiful, hilarious, and kind women next to me. On the other hand, I want to bash their skulls together for abandoning her.

“You don’t sound resentful.”

“I’m not.” She shrugs. “I traveled with them a few times when I was younger but eventually they started leaving me at home because I couldn’t afford to miss any more school.”

“And you were okay with that?”

“At the time, I think I was just excited that I got to spend so much time at my best friend’s house.”

My mind is swirling with questions, but I’m also plagued by the idea that anyone could stand to leave her behind. Especially a younger, more innocent version of her. I’ve only spent a few days with Taylor, and I’m already thinking about ways to spend more days with her.

“And now?”

“There’s no point in being upset now. It is what it is.”

“It is what it is?” I repeat.

“Yup. What will be will be. Live and let live. All that stuff. Life is too short to waste it on worrying about shit you can’t control.”

“I get what you’re saying, but you can still be angry or upset about things you can’t control. I’m not saying you have to let it ruin your life or dwell on it, but I don’t know if I could just ignore something like that.”

“It’s a waste of energy, Knox.” Her words have a note of finality to them and for the second time today, her body shifts slightly away from me. “And it’s just not who I am.”

I don’t doubt that she’s resilient, and I obviously don’t know the whole story, but I can’t get over how it feels like some of her words are meant to convince herself more than they are to convince me.