Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

30. Taylor

Taylor

Camila

FOUR MORE DAYS! FOUR MORE DAYS!

Sorry. Can you tell I miss you?

Taylor

IMYSASMIAH

Camila

I miss your silly ass so much it actually hurts?!

Taylor

It only took you 20 years to figure me out, but I’m proud of you.

Camila

*moonwalks across the kitchen*

I look around my cluttered room, and I can’t stand it anymore. Has this room looked like this for weeks? Yes. But I don’t clean when the space is a mess. I clean when my mind is a mess. And right now, my mind is so fucking fucked.

I gather all my shit into piles and pause when I start folding. Do I put these back in the dresser or in my suitcase? I drop the shirt and dig my palms into my eye sockets, desperate to relieve some of this built-up pressure. I feel like I’m crawling out of my own skin right now.

“Goddammit!” I flip the suitcase across the bed, panting heavily before I sit on the edge. As if Camila can sense something wrong, my phone vibrates on the dresser next to a stack of cups. I don’t have the emotional capacity right now to mask my feelings or to match her energy, so I let it go to voicemail. Once I flop down onto my back, I know I’m overwhelmed enough to the point that I’m not getting back up any time soon.

I wake to a soft rasp against my door. My eyes open but I don’t move other than pulling my pillow tighter to my body.

“Taylor, it’s Knox.” His voice sounds so broken, and a knot forms in my throat, as we both wait for the other one to say something. Each minute that passes, the knot grows, pulling tighter until I can no longer swallow. I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to. Part of me wants to rip the door off the hinges, jump into his arms, and let him convince me that it will all be alright. But the fearful part of me wins out as I continue to lay here until the thud of footsteps sounds, and I squeeze my eyes shut, allowing the heavy tears to leak out.

I wake up to pee, and it’s dark. It seems only fitting that I’m ending my trip the same way I started it—by sleeping the day away and being hungry. I wash my hands and find my phone to find it’s at 2% battery with a voicemail from Camila.

“Chicka Bonita, I was just calling to check in, haven’t heard from you in a few days other than that quick text, which seems suspicious. I guess no more suspicious than me leaving a voicemail, though. Okay, well, just give me a call later and at the very least send me your flight info so I can make sure I’m there to pick you up on time. Okay, that’s it, I lov?—”

I pull my phone away from my ear—dead. Awesome. I don’t bother to plug it in, instead, I sit in the oversized chair in the corner, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my sweatpant-covered knees.

Of course, she’s wondering about my flight home, I’m supposed to be home in three days. Two days now? I don’t even know what time it is, let alone what day it is anymore. I heave a sigh as the heavy feelings from two nights ago wash over me. I was already in a vulnerable mood and not planning on going to dinner, but as I silently helped chop the vegetables with Isla, she unknowingly guilted me by telling me how excited she was that I would be joining my first town dinner. After a nice little trauma dump with my mom, dinner with an entire community of people who regard each other as family was the last thing I wanted to do. I wasn’t in the mood but I was willing to explain it to Knox after dinner. This is someone I felt safe enough around that I was ready to tell him why I was so scared, why I had been flighty, and why I gave him the cheek.

It only took finding out that that same someone was potentially leaving for me to shut down. For me to remember exactly why I don’t open up to people, why I never wanted to get close to someone, and why I tried avoiding this exact situation from the very beginning .

I tried and failed at implementing some bullshit rule about how we could keep things casual and just be friends, which looking back, I knew was an excuse.

Because I knew from the moment I met Knox Browning, that falling for him would be the easiest thing I ever did.

I tiptoe down the stairs, knowing that there's no one on the night shift duty anymore—but I also know my way around the kitchen like it’s my own. The room feels like an extension of me, like another piece of me. And I have to eat. Now.

I poke my head into the dark room and don’t bother turning on the lights when I pluck a fruit from the bowl and turn around to grab a napkin.

“Morning darlin’—”

“Shit!” I throw the fruit up in the air and grab the countertop for dear life. Bringing a hand to my chest to settle my racing heart, I find Isla at the round table in the corner. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” She winces. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“What are you doing down here?” I look around the empty room before picking up my food off the floor.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to start my day.” I turn towards the stove, reading the clock, 4:14. “Seems you couldn’t sleep either.” I bite the skin of my lip, rubbing my fruit like it’s a magic lap. “I hope I’m not oversteppin’, but—” She holds her cup of tea with two hands, lifting it to her mouth and I hold my breath for what she has to say. “If you ever needed to talk to someone, other than my big lug of a son, I’m always around. ”

My throat tightens, and I fight to hide how much her words really affect me. I know that part of the reason I was so quick to believe I could stay longer was because of Isla. She’s welcomed me into her kitchen, which has become a safe space for me and we’ve worked beside each other all these weeks. When I think about leaving, it’s not just Knox I’ll miss. When she smiles at me from over the rim of her mug, I blink back tears.

“Was Knox’s offer a surprise to you, too?” I guess I can be glad I’m not the only one he keeps things from. I nod, not trusting my voice, and she mirrors my movements.

“You know, we’ve all loved having Knox home.”

“I can imagine.” I finally speak but I keep my eyes glued on the counter in front of me.

“And, of course, we would be bummed to see him go again, but thankfully, I don’t think we really need to worry about that.”

“You don’t think he’ll leave? Even with how upset he was when he came home?”

“No.” She smiles, walking over to where I stand, unmoving at the counter. “Because as much as we love having him here, I think for the first time, he seems to love it for himself now.”

I want to believe her. I want to believe that I was right to put my trust in him. But even if Knox thinks he can be happy here, be happy with me, what’s to say that he won’t change his mind later?