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  It’s a gorgeous night. Taylor tucks herself against me, resting her head on my chest. It’s time to fill her in. Without any preamble, I come right out and ask her, “Taylor, if I were to leave, would you come with me?”

  She pulls away to sit up to better see my face. “Where?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here…and neither can you. We don’t belong here. Right after your birthday, I want to run as far away as we can.”

  “That’s in two days.”

  I nod, gauging her response. I’m ready to argue any point she makes.

  “Trey, where would we go? And who says they wouldn’t find us?”

  “You need to trust me. I’ve been planning this for a while. I’ve been saving for it as well. I can take care of us. Please, we need to get away from here. We need to start fresh.”

  She contemplates my words without responding. I wait patiently to continue with what I need to say. “Sweetheart, the night after your birthday we’ll leave. You and I will pretend to head out to our jobs. But, instead, we’ll drive straight to Los Angeles. By the time we are discovered missing, we’ll be lost in the masses. We’ll find a place and immediately start the process to change our names. It will take awhile, so we’ll have to be careful during that time. Once we do, they’ll never find us.”

  “Your dad will never stop searching for us.”

  “I have insurance if he ever did find us. Trust me.” I take her hands in mine before adding, “Taylor, I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she replies mechanically.

  I shake my head and say, “Taylor, I love you,” repeating my words slowly, emphasizing their true meaning. I close the gap between us, placing my hands on either side of her face. I’m so close that I can feel her warm breath on my lips. Her chest rises with every breath she takes.

  “Taylor, I want to be with you. Yes, you are my best friend, but I want you to be so much more. I want you to be my wife.” A small gasp escapes as she processes my words. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I need to know you feel the same. You’ve hidden behind our friendship, but I need you to be honest with me.”

  “Trey, I can’t ever lose you. If it didn’t work out…”

  “We are meant to be,” I interrupt, right before kissing her lips softly. “I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone in this goddamn world we live in. The only thing that warms my heart is my love for you. The only thing I look forward to is being with you. The only thing I want is you.”

  “I’m scared,” she whispers so quietly, I can barely hear her.

  “I know,” I admit as I wrap her in my arms. I try to assure her with my embrace that I would never let anything happen to her. I would protect her with my own life. “Taylor, staying and continuing on this path is scarier than leaving.”

  She looks up at me and says, “Trey, I’m not scared of that. I’m not scared of running with you and starting a new life. I’m scared you won’t always feel this way about me. I’m scared you’ll stop loving me some day.”

  When I skim my thumb across her bottom lip, she parts them while watching me raptly. I need to show her how much I love her. I need to taste her, every part of her. I need her to finally grant me permission.

  “Taylor that will never happen. I can’t ever imagine not having you in my life. I want to be with you, always. I need you.” I stare deep into her eyes, holding her gaze, willing her to admit she feels the same.

  “I need you, too. I’ve always needed you. After almost losing you, I decided I’m tired of holding back. I want to be with you, too. But, I’m still scared.”

  “Don’t be scared. I will never let anything happen to you, to us. Let me love you. Let me show you.”

  “I could never resist your charms, Trey Barton,” she whispers against my lips. She understands the intent in my words and looks down shyly. When her cheeks tinge and her lips form a small smile, my heart swells inside my chest.

  “And you’ll never have to, Taylor Rappaport.”

  When I pull her closer and seal my lips over hers, she doesn’t object. She also doesn’t break our kiss after a few minutes, as she normally does. This time she deepens the kiss, symbolically releasing all of her doubts, all of her trepidations…and all of my desires as well.

  She raises her eyes and meets my gaze again, and there’s a newfound determination. “Yes.”

  “You do realize you just gave me a big ass green light, don’t you?”

  She laughs at my candor and nods slowly. “I do.”

  Without a single word, I hop off the truck and quickly retrieve a blanket from the cab. When I return, she smirks adorably. “You sure were banking on me saying yes, huh?”

  I can’t deny her accusation, nor do I want to. My response is a simple, “I’m irresistible.”

  Her eyes widen as I offer her my hand to help her out of the truck. Once she stands before me, I take hold of her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes.

  “All kidding aside, are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  The only thing calming my insecurity is knowing that if she didn’t want to do this, then she wouldn’t be doing it. The girl is as stubborn as she is beautiful.

  I lead her to a spot that I scoped out in hopes this would actually happen tonight. It’s tucked behind some large blue spruce trees. It’s as perfect as I can make it. My nerves get the best of me as I spread the blanket, feeling her watching my every move. I want this to be special for her. I want it to be perfect.

  I stand on one side of the blanket while she stands on the other. She’s a vision. The moonlight reflects off her blonde hair, making her appear angelic. Her big brown eyes focus on my hands, watching intently as I slowly remove my clothes, socks, and shoes. She follows my lead, never uttering a word. When she stands naked before me, she knocks the wind out of my lungs. It’s overwhelming to finally have the only person I’ve ever truly loved, willingly give herself to me for the first time. It’s even more overwhelming to be offering myself to her, knowing that I’m not worthy. She is perfect. I am far from it.

  The distance between us, although only a few feet, is far too vast. Impatiently, I walk to her because I simply can’t wait a second longer.

  “We’ll go slowly, okay?”

  She swallows audibly and nods. “Have you ever done this before?”

  “I’ve had sex before,” I admit.

  “Keeping secrets from me, Mr. Barton?”

  “It meant nothing, she wasn’t you. What we are about to do, that will be the first time for me.” I place a soft kiss on her lips before adding, “Trust me.”

  My girl does just that. She lets me love her in every way I can. She gives herself to me completely.

  Our first time is sweet, gentle, and perfect. Afterwards, when we are wrapped in each other’s arms, I can clearly see a future I can get excited about for the first time in my life.

  Now that Taylor and I are committed to each other in every way possible, I can’t concentrate on life. This poses a problem because I need to stay focused. Two days, we have two more days of this hell. I can’t lose my head. Tomorrow is her birthday. I have a special night planned for her. The following day we flee.

  I haven’t spoken to her all day. That’s unusual for us. I can only guess it’s because she’s nervous and busy completing all the tasks I’ve given her. Regardless, I’m worried about her. I don’t want her to have second thoughts. I need to be sure she’s still with me.

  There are seven more guests who need to claim their cars. I’ve been pacing like a caged animal. The minute I’m done here, I’m driving right to her house to hold her tight. I won’t feel right until I hold her.

  What seems like hours later, I tear down the highway like a demon possessed. Her car isn’t in its usual spot, and my heart flips with anxiety. Her mother’s smile fades as soon as she answers the door and sees it’s me.

  “Hi, Mrs. Rappaport. Is Taylor here?”

  She folds her ar
ms while leveling me with her indifference. “We thought she was with you.”

  “I’ve been at work all day. When was the last time you saw her?”

  Her mother’s scowl turns to panic. “This morning. She left for work and said she’d be back later.”

  As I run toward my truck she calls out, “Trestan? What is going on?”

  I don’t stop to acknowledge her question. Instead, I peel out of their driveway toward our spot. She often goes there when she’s scared, nervous, or needs to think. I just hope she’s sitting, waiting for me to talk her off the ledge.

  My frantic pulse calms a bit once I see her car. The ominous clouds that cover the moon make it difficult to see, but I know this spot like the back of my hand. In the dark, I walk to the edge of the creek, calling out her name. Instinctively, I move toward the spruce trees where I claimed her virginity. The memory warms me from the inside out.

  “Hey, there you are.”

  She doesn’t stir. She looks adorable on her side, sleeping soundly.

  “Sweetheart,” I whisper as I push her hair away from her face. Her forehead is ice cold. “Tay?”

  I roll her onto her back, getting no response at all. The panic I felt earlier pales in comparison to the pain that is now ripping through my chest. “Taylor!”

  Frantically, I search for a pulse.

  “No! Nooooo! Taylor, Baby, please…please!”

  Even in the dim light, the deep crimson stains on her arms are hard to ignore. It must have been hours since…

  “TAYLOR!”

  I crush her lifeless body to mine, rocking her back and forth. She can’t be gone. She wouldn’t do this. I know she wouldn’t do this. She loved life too much. With all our issues and all our problems, she was always the one who talked me off the ledge. She always convinced me to appreciate the good we had in our lives. She was my only good.

  The thought of living without her paralyzes me. I can’t do this without her. I can’t move without her. I can’t breathe without her.

  I hold her, rock her, and caress her face for hours. I gently trace her lips, her nose, and her eyes, committing it all to memory. I slip off her bracelet, pocketing it selfishly. Only when daylight breaks do I finally calm enough to think responsibly. Her parents need to know. I can’t leave her here alone. She must have been so scared.

  Robotically, I lift her and carry her to my truck, keeping her across my lap. My tears make it impossible to see the road. By some sheer miracle I manage to get to her parents’ house. At the sound of my door slamming shut, her mom appears on the porch.

  “What’s wrong? Trestan? What’s wrong with Taylor?”

  With every step I take, the sobs get louder. Her dad appears next, rushing toward me to remove her from my arms.

  “What have you done?”

  I can hear his words, but they don’t register in my mind. I can’t stop staring at my girl…my lifeless, dead, beautiful girl.

  They take her away and leave me alone with my grief. My knees give out, and I land heavily on the ground. Her little brother stands in the window, watching wide-eyed. An ambulance arrives and the paramedics rush into the house. They take my girl with her mom following close behind. Shortly after, a police car arrives. Two officers watch me carefully as they approach the house. They talk to her dad, every so often turning to stare at me. Their conversation is low and hushed. I watch helplessly as one of them walks to stand before me.

  “Son? Please follow us. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  He grips my arm, helping me to stand. He motions toward the open door of the patrol car. When I’m at the station, I’m asked a series of questions. Where were you all day? When was the last time you saw her? Did she show signs of depression? How did she handle my suicide attempt? On and on it went until my parents appeared in the small room where they kept me.

  “Trestan, I’m so sorry.” My mother hugs my neck and starts to cry. I want to push her away and tell her she has no right to cry over Taylor. She’s not worthy. My dad stands stoically behind my mom, never uttering a word to me. Ironically, I respect his reaction to the situation more than my mom’s.

  My father asks the officers if they are done. They release me to the two people I hate most on this earth.

  The day after I lost her, I went to our spot and sat there all day. Her eighteenth birthday would never be celebrated. The delicate ring I bought her never to be worn. The following day, instead of driving to Los Angeles, I sat at her funeral.

  Thoughts of killing myself consumed me.

  Every waking moment of every waking day for the last two weeks I’ve stared into space while plotting my own death. Except for spending her birthday at our spot and attending her funeral, I haven’t left my home or my room. Except for alcohol and painkillers, I drank or ate nothing. My high numbing me enough until it wore off, and then the crushing pain would resurface. I wouldn’t speak. They took my silence as depression. The truth is the screaming that was going on in my head made it impossible for me to form intelligible words.

  My mother’s worrying was annoying. My father’s was non-existent. He would lecture her for being weak. Her weakness wouldn’t help me. She needed to be strong to help with my recovery. Today my mom arranged the therapist to come to me, hoping his pathetic attempts of getting me to speak would suddenly make everything right in my world. After he left, my mother entered my room and shut the door behind her.

  “Trestan, you can’t go on like this. You’ll do something drastic. I can’t live through that again.” It’s always about them. Is she fucking serious? “You can’t help Taylor any longer. She’s gone. She was a troubled girl who has always shown signs of depression. She never…”

  “Don’t. Say. Another. Word. About. Her.” I spit the words out through clenched teeth, right into her face. My mother looks shocked at my outburst before pity clouds her features. “Taylor would never take her own life,” I add, venom lacing every word.

  “Trestan, it was ruled a suicide.”

  I desperately want to slap her face. Scream the words that have been consuming me since the day I lost her. Accuse the man who fathered me of the most despicable act. The hatred and despair that are mixing together in my chest becomes a potent toxic sludge. All the while, she sits misinterpreting my rage as sorrow.

  “I’m just trying to help you,” she has the nerve to respond.

  “Help me? Where were you every time I truly needed your help? You were by his side, feeding his hatred for me.”

  “Trestan, your father doesn’t hate you.” She tries to exude authority, yet takes a contradictory step away to distance herself. Without him here, she’s not very effective, and she obviously knows it. “You mistake discipline as hatred. He loves you, we both do.”

  I thrust my bandaged wrist in her face. “Really? This is from love?”

  “Your father can’t be blamed for your actions.”

  “He did this to me! He took a razor and slit my wrist while I slept! He made it look like I was insane, and unstable, and suicidal. HE DID THIS! He told me I wasn’t supposed to be born. His purpose is to lead, to educate, and to live the life of our Lord. He told me being a father wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  My mother stands wide-eyed, confused by my words. It’s the first time I uttered those words to anyone besides Taylor. Releasing them doesn’t help the pain or comfort me in any way. It only serves to make me pity the woman before me even more and hate the man behind her. How does a mother not know the pain her child is carrying? How did she manage to go through the past eighteen years ignorant to my hell?

  Curiosity keeps me talking. “You had to have known he didn’t want me.”

  My mother stares down at the floor and doesn’t respond to my statement.

  “Did you?”

  She meets my eyes, answering my question without having to say a word.

  “Then why? Why did you keep me?”

  “Trestan, you weren’t planned, but you were my child. I felt God wanted us
to have a son. I still do. I knew once you were born, he would feel the same.”

  “You were dead wrong.”

  I’ve said more than I ever wanted or planned to. I’m done with her. Even as I move past her toward the door, she stands unmoving, still staring at the floor. I’ve just made my decision. Killing myself is too convenient of an outcome for him. I’ll make his life a living hell. I’ll make him worry about me showing up in his life every fucking day. I’ll make him fear that the day I do will be his last.

  Changing my course, I walk back into my room and command, “Get out.”

  When she faces me, there are tears streaming down her cheeks…and it’s a little too little too late for her to act like a mother should.

  “You can’t just announce such an accusation without discussing it further,” she admits in a breathy whisper. “Trestan, please talk to me.”

  “What is it you want me to say, Mother?” I slam the door behind me, coming further into my room. “Now you want to listen, to open your eyes to the horrific things he’s capable of? All of a sudden you are curious? You honestly want me to believe that you never saw him for what he truly was? That under the pretext of his church, he’s actually a demon incapable of loving his own son?”

  “Why haven’t you told me?”

  “It’s not my job to tell you. It’s your job to protect me, love me unconditionally. Your fear of him made you the worst kind of mother.” I sit heavily on my bed, trying to control the hatred coursing through my veins. With every breath I take I’m realizing it’s not the hatred that’s controlling me right now, it’s the sorrow. I lost the only person I ever loved. It’s my fault. Because of me, my Taylor is dead. I promised to protect her. I failed.

  My sobs betray me, making me vulnerable and weak.

  “It’s okay, Son.” My mother takes my hand, confusing my tears as her green light to suddenly do her job. I yank my hand from her grip, making it very clear she no longer has that right.

  “Can you leave?”

  “No. We need to discuss this.”

  I stand, putting much needed distance between us. It pisses me off that she’s trying to console me right now. It makes me sick to my stomach. She watches as I pace. I pace as I plot the ultimate revenge for his lack of love…and hers.