Chapter 13
Taylor
I miss Strickland University. For the first time in years, I’m ready to go back to the place I now identify as home. We moved so often when I was a kid that I never knew where I fit in. It was hard to make long-term friends. I never had an inner circle. But now that I’m part of Drake’s world, I want to go back to where I belong.
Sitting in the kitchen with my mom, I stare out the window. It’s sunny in California, at least thirty degrees warmer than it is back in Philly. I hate cold weather. Even after living in Germany for years, I still can’t stand the harshness of winter. Though, I know if I were there Drake would keep me warm.
For Thanksgiving, our family always rents a house for the week in Northern California so my dad and brother can hunt our turkey. Since high school, this has been our tradition. Shaun helps my dad with the meat, and I get the honor of making the side dishes with my mom.
My cell phone dings, and when I lift it from the table, a smile crosses my lips. Drake hasn’t stopped texting me since my plane touched down in California.
Drake: Can’t stop thinking about you…
Taylor: The feeling is mutual, buddy.
Drake: Can you talk?
I glance over at my mom, who’s cutting bread for the stuffing. My family makes everything from scratch. Even the turkey is fresh. My dad and older brother, Shaun, are out right now hunting for wild turkeys.
“Do you need any help?” I ask my mom.
She scans the counter in front of her and shrugs. “No, not yet. I’ll need you in a little while to help me with the potatoes.”
“Okay, let me know when you need me.”
Everyone in our family has to pitch in. As my dad says, No one eats for free.
On my way out of the kitchen, my mom’s cell phone rings. “Honey, can you get that?” She holds up her bread-covered fingers. “Got my hands full.”
With a nod, I answer the phone. Before I can say hello, my dad’s voice blares through the receiver.
“Claire,” he growls.
“No, sir. It’s Taylor.”
“Taylor.” He sounds out of breath. “Put your mother on the phone.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No, your idiot brother shot himself in the foot with his rifle.”
I gasp at his words. “Is Shaun okay?”
“What’s going on?” Mom says from behind me, wiping her hands on a towel. She takes the phone from me, a single tear streaking down her face as my dad tells her about Shaun.
A minute later, she hangs up the phone and rips her apron off, dropping it onto the counter. “We have to get going, honey. Looks like we’re spending Thanksgiving at the hospital.”
She grabs her car keys, and without taking a single thing with me, I follow her into the driveway. Thirty minutes later, we’re in the emergency room with my dad, who’s dressed head-to-toe in camouflage.
He stands as we approach, pushing his hands to his hips. Even after years of retirement, he still looks like a commanding officer. I never expected my dad to retire from the Marine Corps to work for a contractor, but my mom had begged him to settle down.
“Shaun needs surgery to repair the damage,” my dad says, embracing my mom in his arms.
She’s trembling, while my dad is as cool as a cucumber. Nothing fazes him. He’s seen much worse in the field than my brother shooting his toe off. My poor brother. As much as my dad tries, he will never make Shaun like him. Shaun is creative and carefree, where my dad is a trained killer who doesn’t have a soft bone in his body.
After he releases my mom, Dad pulls me into a hug and kisses me on the head. He’s not as tall as Drake, but he has a few inches on me. We don’t speak. He merely holds me tight, as if he’s afraid something will happen to me.
After a few hours of hanging out in the waiting room, the doctor finally allows us to see Shaun. He’s lying in a hospital bed, his eyes lidded from the anesthesia. My mom comes up to his side and slips her fingers between his. Shaun’s eyes fully open a few seconds later. He blinks a few times and then smiles up at my mom.
