“Okay.” With the ease only a person used to tossing girls over his head can exude, JT rises from the ground, still holding me in his arms, and follows Em’s directions to my bedroom.
The welcome relief of the soft goose down duvet on my tailbone after hours spent on a hard floor doesn’t last long as those memories smack me in the face.
Mase—fuck! Mason—and me studying.
M-A-S-O-N asking me to be his girlfriend.
Our first sleepover.
Our first time.
Fuck! I need to get out of here.
Em and Q both hover in the doorway, their concerned gazes bouncing between me on the bed and JT shuffling around the room, gathering an overnight bag, my purse, and my keys before slipping my classic black and white Chucks onto my feet.
A screechy pained whine escapes when he tries to pull Mason’s hoodie over my head. I can see the questions swimming in his eyes, but blessedly he doesn’t ask, instead pulling my own U of J sweatshirt from the wardrobe.
Adjusting the hood to hide my face, he tugs on the strings to tighten the fit. Tucking me tight to his side, he drapes both my bags over his shoulder as well as his own, which he dropped by the door before, and leads us out of the apartment.
I vaguely recall him promising to call the girls later, but that’s the last thing I’m cognizant of. The walk to the car and the almost-hour-long drive home aren’t even a blur, just another void of time in my memories.
A hand squeezing mine brings me back to the present, and my eyes blink until the Taylor home comes into focus. My head lolls to the side on the headrest and I attempt to meet JT’s encouraging smile with a grateful one. I couldn’t tell you if I’m successful or not, but this is just one of the many things that show how well he knows me. I haven’t uttered a word about the demise of my relationship with Mason, but still he sensed I couldn’t be at my house a few blocks away.
Pinky idles in the driveway, the heat from the vents ruffling the curls hanging limply around my face as JT waits for me to be ready to move.
I give an almost indistinguishable nod, and he grabs our bags out of the back seat then rounds the Jeep, pulling my door open for me to hop down.
He holds his arms open and I fall into them, sinking into the hug, the back of his blue Kentucky sweatshirt clutched in my hands. God love him, he doesn’t even flinch at the fabric getting covered in tears and snot.
The shudders racking my body eventually subside in his hold. Once I’m calm enough, he lets me go with a pat on the back.
The sound of the front door opening brings attention to our arrival, and Pops steps into the foyer a few seconds after us.
“Jimmy, my boy.” Pops automatically pulls JT into a hug, but the jovial mood drops along with his smile as he catches sight of me. “Who do I have to kill?”
The automatic protective response brings the first twitch to my lips.
“Dad,” JT cautions.
“Come here, baby girl.”
Without any hesitation, I go to him, letting him fold me into his fatherly embrace. Growing up as the best friend of my dad, Pops has always been like a second father to me. Their longstanding friendship is how JT and I became CTG BFFs (cradle-to-grave best friends forever).
“You kids want anything to eat?” He starts to lead us to the back of the house where the kitchen is located.
I don’t, the knots in my stomach are more than enough to fill me up, but I follow anyway, taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter. I concentrate all my energy on breathing in and out, anything to not succumb to the depression I feel welling up inside me. I still can’t believe any of this is real.
“Shit, Kay.” Tessa rushes me as soon as she spots me. I really must be in worse shape than I thought if both Taylor children are calling me Kay.
“What am I, chopped liver?” JT asks in response to the Please, I can’t human right now plea I give him over her shoulder. “Don’t I get a hug?”
“You’re an idiot,” T retorts, but she lets go of me to go to him.
Both Taylor siblings are a good mix of their parents. JT got his whiskey-hued eyes from his mom, where on Tessa they tinted the blue eyes inherited from Pops to a deep midnight blue. The deep auburn of JT’s hair comes from a mix of Pops’ once rich brown hair that is now gray at the temples with the same bright strawberry locks Tessa has.
“Come on.” JT releases T and holds out a hand for me to take.
With the Taylors, I don’t have to worry about being seen as rude for not saying anything as I leave to follow JT upstairs.
The path to his bedroom is as familiar as the one to my own, the door still ajar from when I slept over the other night when Pops was on shift at the firehouse. I toe out of my sneakers as I walk to the bed, leaving them scattered in my wake and dropping my hoodie amongst the mess.
I slip under the covers, burying my face in the pillow on my side of the bed. A wall of heat envelops me from behind as JT crawls in next to me and pulls my body in to spoon with his. I couldn’t even count the number of times JT and I have shared a bed during our lives. Most parents keep their babies away from others who are sick, but not our moms. The only way one of us would sleep then was if the other was in the crib too.
Like all those years ago, the feeling of someone reaching inside my chest and squeezing my heart in their fist starts to fade,
