Page 86 of That: Taylor & Brooks

“I’m not running,” she snapped, her irritation bubbling up. She hated it when he said she was running. But they both knew better. “Don’t say I’m running. You met my parents. We’ve got stuff at each other’s places. We know each other’s codes.”

She was right, but she was still stalling. And he knew it. She didn’t know that her answer to moving in with him had been sitting heavy on his chest ever since he asked her last week. She told him she loved her house. Claimed she wasn’t ready. And while he nodded and let it go, truth was, it didn’t sit right. It still didn’t. He just hadn’t said that part out loud yet.

Home was with him.

Home was when they were together.

“A hit dog gon holler,” He muttered.

“Really?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes.

“Really. You keep playing with me and I’m going to have your ass gagged and bound.”

Things still felt casual to him. The way his heart clenched every time she looked at him like she was looking now caught between wanting to stay and needing to flee was why he hadn’t said anything.

Through the window, they could see Blake and Emon moving around the kitchen together, so in sync it looked like dancing. The easy way they touched, laughed, existed in each other’s space, it made something in Brooks’ chest ache. That could be him and Taylor, if she’d just let it. If she’d quit running. If she’d allow herself to trust him. He’d asked her to move in with him, give them a title, something and she hadn’t. He wasn’t mad, but he wasn’t sure why she insisted on making this about everything but them.

“I just...” Taylor started, then stopped, chewing her bottom lip.

Brooks exhaled through his nose, then shifted in his seat so he was fully facing her. He let his hand trace slow up her thigh, stopping just above her knee.

“You just what?” His thumb brushed across her knuckles, encouraging.

“I don’t know what we are,” she whispered finally.

Brooks exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to shake some sense into her. “We’re whatever we say we are. Everybody else gets to love freely. I plan on doing the same.”

“Ok. Ok. Let’s go and do this.”

Brooks stepped out and came around to her door, the gentleman in him winning out over his frustration.When she slipped her hand into his, their fingers lacing together like they were made to fit, he felt some of his tension ease.

Inside, the house smelled like Blake had been cooking since yesterday, greens, cornbread, mac and cheese, chicken and more. The kind of food that healed your spirit and made you unbutton your jeans before you even made your plate. Everyone was in attendance, even Emon’s cousin Giovanni.

“Damn, sis, you showed out,” Brooks said as they walked in, his voice filled with pride.

Taylor caught Blake’s eyes from across the room, and for a moment, there was nothing but warmth. Blake smiled wide and pulled her into a hug. If there was tension, it wasn’t showing.

“You good?” She asked quietly.

“I’m good,” he replied, but his eyes drifted to Taylor, who was already being pulled into conversation with Emon.

“It’s time you get your shit together with Taylor, no? This could be y’all.”

“Taylor needs to get her shit together with me, ya dig?” he said, following the woman he had been chasing for months as she moved through the living room.

Blake followed his gaze and smirked. “Mmhmm. I see. My friend making you work for it. Wanna talk about it?”

“No, so mind your business,” Brooks muttered, but there was no heat in it. He moved to the counter, grabbing a beer from the cooler. Blake liked to meddle like Janine from Abbott Elementary and he didn’t need her in his love life. There needed to be a boundary, so this wasn’t weird.

On the other side of the room, Taylor tried to focus on what Emon was saying about his second community pantry, but Brooks’ eyes were on her again. That heavy, heated gaze she’d come to know too well. The kind that made her forget what she was supposed to be doing.

“Ayo,” Emon said, snapping his fingers once, sharp and direct. “Y’all got it bad, huh?” Taylor blinked and laughed lightly, embarrassed. She opened her mouth to deflect, to apologize, but he cut her off. “What’s the problem? I see how he looks at you. Reminds me of the way I used to look at Blake when we were still pretending.”

Taylor sighed and stirred her drink, eyes locked on the melting ice. “I think I just got used to keeping parts of myself tucked away. Hiding the good stuff. Protecting it before it could get stepped on.”

Emon nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Ain’t nothing wrong with moving cautious. But don’t let that shit rob you of what’s real.”

She looked up at him, a little startled by how direct that landed. Brooks now near, dapping up Emon, pulling a chair into the dining area like he’d always belonged. Taylor drifted toward the kitchen island, finding herself next to Paige, who immediately smirked.

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