Defending Taylor (Hundred Oaks #7)

by Miranda Kenneally

  “Ezra,” Dad commands. “Go sit down, now.” He turns to me with betrayed eyes. “Taylor, I’d like an explanation.”

  “How could you?” Mom cries again, and Dad sighs.

  “Donna, please let Taylor speak.”

  I square my shoulders and stand up straight. “Ben and I were out in the woods. He brought his backpack. When he left to go to the bathroom, that’s when the dorm mothers found me and thought the pills were mine. I knew that Ben would get kicked out of school, but I thought I’d be fine, Dad…because of who you are.”

  Dad hangs his head, disappointed.

  “I know now I was wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to use you and your position to get out of trouble.”

  “But you wouldn’t have been in trouble!” Dad says. “They weren’t your pills!”

  “I know,” I say quietly. “Things got out of hand. I never expected all of this to happen.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” Mom asks. “I can’t believe you’d do something so dumb.”

  “Stop talking to Taylor like that,” Ezra says, but he looks furious with me. His angry eyes bore into mine. “We said no more secrets.”

  “I’m sorry—” I start, but he’s already storming out of the room. “Ezra!” I call. He leaves me alone with the firing squad.

  “Mom, Dad, if I had known this would get so crazy, I never would’ve covered for Ben. And I didn’t tell you afterward because I found out Ben was selling the pills, and I thought it would make things worse if people knew I was covering for a drug dealer. I was planning to tell you the truth as soon as the election was over. I knew it wouldn’t do any good right now—”

  Dad holds up a hand to quiet me.

  “Ben,” Dad says quietly, “thank you for coming to tell us the truth. But I don’t want to see you at my home again. And if you try to contact my daughter, I’ll be asking the police to investigate you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Please leave.”

  Ben gazes over at me with tears in his eyes. He nods once, mouthing good-bye, then disappears out the door.

  Mom stalks over to Dad’s wet bar and pours herself a scotch. With a shaky hand, she brings the glass to her mouth. She sips, closing her eyes.

  We’re all quiet, but Mom interrupts the silence. “This will cost us the election, Edward. You shouldn’t have let St. Andrew’s expel her.”

  Dad sits down on the sofa and puts a hand over his face.

  “Dad?”

  “Go on,” he says softly, gesturing at the door.

  “Don’t you want to talk this through?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Not now.”

  With tears streaming down my face, I climb the stairs to my bedroom. I doubt my parents will ever look at me the way they used to. Will they ever trust me again?

  And what about Ezra? I betrayed him. We promised there wouldn’t be secrets between us, and I kept this from him—from everyone.

  I open the door to my room and gasp. He’s sitting on my bed, staring down at his hands. He lifts his head to stare at me.

  “Are you kidding me?” Ezra starts. “You’d throw away your future for that asshole? Why? Why didn’t you tell the truth?”

  “Ezra—”

  “You could do anything you want with your life, and you gave up St. Andrew’s for some loser who didn’t even have the balls to stand up for his own mistake!”

  “Things got out of control. I didn’t mean for this to happen—”

  “I thought you were better than this.”

  “I am—I didn’t want to be a tattletale!”

  “You should’ve confronted Ben and told him to fix the situation before it got out of hand! I am so mad at you right now.”

  “Ezra—”

  “We said no more secrets. That includes the big, dark ones.”

  “Now you know everything. We’ve both made mistakes. Please, let’s just get past this, Ezra. Please.”

  He drags a hand through his hair and stands. “I need time.”

  He strides by me without another word and leaves.

  • • •

  I’m scared to go downstairs.

  Scared to face Mom and Dad.

  Scared to read the texts from Oliver and Jenna.

  Scared to turn on the news to check the polls.

  Scared to go to school.

  This feels like that time in elementary school when our parents took us to Six Flags Over Georgia, and Oliver went missing. I ran around searching for him. What if he got kidnapped? What if he fell down a manhole? What if he fell off the Mine Train ride and got trapped in a tunnel?

  It turned out he was gorging on ice cream sundaes at Big Mo’s, but my heart didn’t stop racing until we arrived safely home in Franklin that night.

  This morning, I wait until I see Dad’s car pulling out of the drive, and then I rush downstairs and out to my car before Mom or Marina can stop me.

  I sent Ezra a couple of texts, including one that said Donut Palace?

  No response.

  I decide to skip coffee today.

  By lunchtime, I’m yawning my ass off thanks to no sleep and no caffeine. I join Chloe and Alyson at a round table and unpack the lunch Marina made for me. Alyson starts chattering about Maya Henry, a musician who graduated from Hundred Oaks last year. Apparently, Maya uploaded a new song she wrote to YouTube last night, and it’s just amazing. I nod in response.

  “What’s wrong, Tee?” Chloe asks. She started calling me that after hanging around my brother and Ezra.

  I shrug. “My parents and Ezra are pissed at me.”

  “How come?” she asks, popping a baby carrot in her mouth.

  “I did something super stupid and didn’t fix it when I had the chance…” Since we’ve become close over the past couple months, I take a deep breath and explain what happened to my new friends. Their eyes grow wide at the story, and they both place a hand on my arms, supporting me.

  “That sucks,” Chloe says, and Alyson agrees. I’m grateful neither of them judges me for what happened.

  “Can we do anything to help?” Alyson asks.

  “Distract me,” I reply with a tiny smile.

  Alyson tells me how she’s planning to dress up like a sexy train conductor tonight for Halloween. Chloe’s going as a butterfly.

  Halloween. I forgot it’s Halloween. I glance around the cafeteria. A bunch of girls are wearing cute mouse ears. One guy has on devil horns. Another is dressed up like Barack Obama. I really must be out of it if I missed all that in my morning classes.

  Ezra and I didn’t make plans to go to any parties or anything, but we were going to trick-or-treat in my neighborhood this evening. I figured it would be my last time to do so, since I’m going to college next year and all. I won’t be a kid anymore.

  While Chloe chatters away, I check texts under the table to see if Ezra sent anything. Nada. With a deep breath, I gather the courage to read the texts from Jenna and Oliver.

  Jenna: Are you under the influence of hot construction worker sex or something? I can’t believe you protected Ben. Ballsy. Stupid, but ballsy.

  Oliver’s one-word text: Seriously?

  I start trembling. He must be furious. I excuse myself from the table to go out into the courtyard to call him. At first, I worry he won’t pick up. The phone rings and rings, but finally he answers.

  I begin to say hi, but he starts right in on me. “You lied to me. I asked if the drugs were yours, and you said yes.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s like you cared more about Ben than being honest with me. With your family.”

  “That’s not true! The situation just…got out of hand. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  “You made us think you had a drug problem, Taylor. Do you know how much I’ve worried? Someti
mes I don’t sleep. I call Mom and Dad every day to see how you are. To get the results of your goddamned pee tests. I considered coming home this semester to be with you because I was scared you were worse than you and Mom and Dad let on.”

  Oh my God. “I didn’t want to be a snitch.”

  “I’d rather be a snitch than a liar.”

  Touché.

  “Oll, please, I’m sorry.”

  Click.

  My big brother hung up on me. I bury my phone deep in my bag and wipe away a tear.

  And Ezra… He still hasn’t answered my texts or calls, and I’ve reached out to him so many times, I’m beginning to feel like a psycho. I decide to go over to his house after school. He’s told me he appreciates that I go after what I want, and to me, this situation is no exception.

  When the final bell rings, I go to the bathroom to freshen up. My eyes are still puffy, still red, and still rimmed by dark circles. I splash my face with water and straighten my ponytail.

  I drive to Ezra’s apartment. When I get there, I can’t hold it in anymore—it’s been such a long day that I start choking back sobs. His apartment lights appear blurry through my tears. Like watching a rainstorm through foggy windows.

  I climb the four flights of stairs and knock on the door. His curtains shift a little, and I see him peeking out. For a heartbreaking moment, I think he’s not going to answer the door, but then it slowly swings open.

  He’s barefoot, and his hair is wet, as if he just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. His bloodshot eyes don’t look much better than mine. He ushers me inside to stand in his living room. He stares at the floor with his arms crossed.

  “Ezra,” I start softly. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  He looks up in surprise but says nothing. He chews on his lip, and I’m terrified this is it. He’s going to break up with me, end our friendship.

  Then he slowly pulls me against him, kissing the scar on my forehead. “Of course I can.” He talks into my hair. “But I’m still really mad at you.”

  “I know.” I gasp with relief, and my legs feel like they might give out. Ezra holds me up, helping me to stand.

  “What you did for Ben…you will never, ever do anything like that for me, understand? If I’ve learned anything in the past two years, it’s that a man takes care of his own mistakes. He owns up. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  We hug each other, and I sink my fingers in his wet hair, inhaling his scent of lemon soap. He places a warm hand on my lower back beneath my shirt, tracing circles with his thumb.

  “You didn’t think I’d forgive you?” he whispers.

  “You left so abruptly, and you said you needed time. I didn’t know what that meant.”

  “I’m sorry.” His big hands sweep over my back. “I needed to process this. I still do.”

  My eyes start watering all over again. “You scared me.”

  “I just hope you know that whatever happens between us or outside of our relationship, we can work it out. Okay?”

  “I love you,” I blurt, not caring whether it’s too soon to say it and whether he’ll say it back. It doesn’t matter. “I love you so much.”

  I’m speaking into his chest, so I can’t see his reaction, but his arms around me grow tense. I hold my breath.

  His hands weave through my hair. “I love you too, Tease.”

  I relax against his chest and gaze up at him. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

  “Always.” A mischievous smirk takes over his face. “Now are we gonna make up or what?”

  I playfully shove his chest. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “Everyone knows the best part of fighting is making up afterward. I want to make up with you every day from here on out.”

  His fingertips slide up and down my spine, spreading shivers over my skin. His lips are wanting as they devour mine in a kiss. He cradles my neck in his hand and presses his body to mine, leaving no space between us. He edges me toward his bedroom. He lifts me into his arms, pinning me to the wall, kissing me. I didn’t know he was this strong. I grasp his biceps.

  “I changed my mind. Never stop doing manual labor.”

  He smiles against my lips.

  Lowering my feet to the floor, he guides me to the bed. I climb onto his navy-blue quilt. Eyes blazing, he yanks his T-shirt over his head and joins me. He straddles my waist, burying his face in my neck. His warm skin feels smooth against mine. He lifts my sweater off.

  I’m not sure when he loses his jeans or when I lose mine, but all our clothes wind up on the floor. Up until now, we’ve never been completely naked together, and I’m a little scared—like that first time you jump off a high dive into the water. But I know the fall will be so much fun.

  He takes in every bit of me. And then he presses his hot mouth against my core. I tangle my fingers in his hair until I can’t wait any longer. I need him. All of him.

  Subconsciously, I guess I had been waiting to take our relationship to this level until there were no secrets between us, because now I have no hesitations whatsoever.

  “Do you have protection?” I whisper, and he nods, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand to get a condom.

  “You’re sure?” he asks.

  “Please.”

  He hesitates, looking away for a moment, then his green eyes rejoin mine. “I’m not your first, right?”

  “No,” I whisper.

  “I should’ve been.”

  “Make it up to me now.”

  “Bossy.” He grins and wraps my legs around his waist, and we finish what we started years ago.

  • • •

  When we finished showing how much we love each other, Ezra passed out.

  Passed out.

  I grin to myself.

  Knowing I wore him out does great things for my ego, but I want to cuddle. I wake him up with a long, soft kiss and lean on an elbow, staring down at him as a smile appears on his face.

  “That was nice,” he says.

  “That was verrry nice.”

  He groans with a laugh. “If Oliver ever finds out, he’s going to fuck me up.”

  “You’re damn right he will. Unless you agree to do tequila shots and go dancing with him. Then everything’ll be just fine,” I tease.

  We grin at each other, intertwining our fingers.

  “I’ve wanted to do that with you for a long time,” he whispers, weaving his other hand through my hair.

  “How long?”

  He grins. “Since the summer before senior year. I was at your house swimming in the pool with Oliver, and you were sitting on the side reading a magazine.”

  “Seventeen. I was getting advice on how to talk to guys so I would have something to say to you.” I nudge him with my elbow. “I remember you checking me out.”

  “Yeah, Oliver noticed too. He said, ‘Stop staring at my sister, dipshit.’”

  “So you liked what you saw?”

  His eyes flick over my body. “I liked your little bikini. The red one with polka dots.”

  I punch him in the arm. “You did a cannonball and soaked me. Asshole!”

  “I was trying to get your attention.”

  “You were?”

  “Constantly.”

  I smile, cuddle closer to him, and yawn, finding that he wore me out too.

  We nap together for a bit, and when I wake up, it’s completely dark outside. I look over at the red glowing numbers on the alarm clock. It’s seven. Mom and Dad are probably wondering where I am.

  I am not ready to face them, but my early decision application for Yale is due tomorrow.

  I have to go home to press Send.

  • • •

  It’s five minutes to midnight.

  I’m staring at the blinding
white of my laptop screen.

  Applications are due tomorrow. Friday, November 1.

  My pristine application, which I’ve double- and triple-checked a hundred times, is ready to be submitted.

  My dad expects me to apply.

  So does Mom.

  And Oliver.

  I let out a sob. None of them are talking to me after what happened with Ben.

  What do I expect of myself?

  I have no clue.

  I’ve never felt so lost, but the more I think about it, I wonder if I’ve ever actually found myself to begin with.

  Maybe I’ve always been lost.

  Coming Clean

  Three days before the election, I bundle into a warm down jacket, boots, and jeans, and drive out to Cedar Hill Farms.

  After remembering how Ezra said Jack Goodwin went against his family’s expectations and everything turned out okay, I sent him a text, asking to meet.

  When I pull into the circular driveway in front of the mansion, Jack is standing on the front porch with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing a red plaid shirt, dirty work boots, and a cowboy hat. He must’ve had a busy day with the horses.

  As I’m shutting off my car, Jack, ever the gentleman, jogs down the steps and opens my door for me.

  “Tee, hey. Come on in.”

  He leads me inside to a creamy white parlor with windows overlooking one of the paddocks, where a mare and her foal stand grazing. A tea service is set up next to the fireplace. My parents have money, but the Goodwins have serious cash. Cedar Hill isn’t just a mansion; it’s an estate. Accordingly, they have servants out the wazoo.

  Jack takes off his cowboy hat, then fusses with a china coffeepot decorated with a rose design. “You want a coffee or anything?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “I figured you might. When Jenna and I were dating, she always complained that your mother hated coffee.”

  “One of the very few topics Jenna and I agree on.”

  Jack and I fix ourselves coffees and grab a couple of brownies, then sit down in armchairs next to the window.

  “So what’d you want to talk about?” he asks, chewing.

  “Savannah.”