Taylor opens the door and signals for me to go through first. I obey, but only because I too could use a shower and a change of clothes. I didn't expect it to be cold in Texas, so the only warm things I packed were Taylor's sweatpants and sweatshirt. I never wanted to have to admit I still owned them, let alone to wear them in public for two days straight.

I pull my dufflebag higher onto my shoulder, but its weight disappears seconds later as Taylor pulls it off me. He offers to carry it to the car he's currently driving. He keeps the talk small as we walk—mostly about the hospital staff and the area. When we reach the car, I settle into the passenger seat. I can't control the chill that runs through my body. The cold air has somehow been trapped and multiplied in the small space. Taylor makes a noncommittal comment about the weather, but quickly goes quiet again.

"Now you know why I look like I'm trying out for the Crenshaw Heights cheerleading squad," I say. I bite back a smile. I must look ridiculous with sweatpant material pooling at my ankles and the crotch to the pants resting somewhere around my knees.

"Is this where I pretend I know what that is?" Taylor asks. He tilts his head slightly to glance in my direction. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other is resting on the gear shift between us.

"This is the part where you tease me for still wearing your clothes," I offer.

Taylor remains silent. The crease in the middle of his forehead grows deeper as he says, "I didn't think you would want me to." His tone makes my heart sink. After everything we've been through, I was hoping that at the very least our friendship would prevail through the wreckage.

"That's all I've ever really wanted from you," I say honestly. My brows scrunch to mimic his. It's just another thing we've gotten too good at. We take on the other's emotions without warning. It's too easy to put the other on your back and attempt to take it all away until nothing but happiness remains. I don't think it's possible to do that now though, not when our moods are equally as tragic. But sitting here with him, I realize that this is what I've missed most of all. Not his smile, or the feeling of his hand in mine. All I want is to slip back into the banter and feel the easygoingness I could count on when I was around him. I know it won't take the pain away for good, but I want to forget our history, even if it's just for a few minutes.

"That is not true, and you know it Capt.," Taylor teases. The corner of his mouth tugs up into a half smile. It's not quite the full faced smile I associate with him, but it's a start.

"Even if I never admitted it to you, I like it when you tease me. I don't feel self conscious when it comes from you because I know you don't mean it. Well, I know you mean it, but only in the best way." I share my truth with him. I can only hope it will be a catalyst between us.

"So you won't mind if I tell you that I thought you were an actual homeless person wandering outside the hospital today?" He brings the car to a stop at a stop light. It's the first time since he climbed behind the wheel that he's turned his head all the way to look at me.

"One more day without a shower and I couldn't even blame you for that comparison," I say, offering him a smile back.

The light changes, and so does the air between us. We fall silent again, but I'm only quiet because I'm memorizing the route we're taking. I work to pick out landmarks passing by as we move further away from Abilene. I already knew Taylor didn't grow up in the city, but being able to create a backdrop for the way he grew up is everything at this moment.

As we pull through another small town I begin to ask questions, begging for Taylor to share about its buildings and occupants. He indulges me by pointing out the corner store where they sell everything but somehow nothing that you ever actually need. And next door is the barbershop where he used to get his haircut. He even points out his highschool, Nora's current school, and the dental office where his mom worked until she began treatment.

A little further through the town, little clusters of neighborhoods begin to appear. It's not quite the suburbs where I grew up, but not the middle of the town square either. Taylor turns right onto a street and then again onto another side street. He shuts the car off when he pulls into the driveway of a small ranch style house. I take the time to memorize the color of its brick and the way the dark shutters accent it. I let out a laugh when I see the front door. It's painted the brightest shade of blue I've ever seen. Taylor claims his mom went through a painting phase and tried to paint their living room that color. When he wouldn't let her because it was hideous, she painted the front door so everyone could see it.

"She gets so many compliments on it and every time looks at me like she's won the war," He says as he slides out of the car and walks around to grab my door. I step out and lift my camera from where it hangs at my belly. I need to capture his origin, even if he's only actually lived in this house for six years. I can already feel the memories within its square footage.It's like this small little plot is exactly where Taylor became the man he is today.

"I love it. And I can't wait to tell her the color would look even better inside." I smirk as I lift the lens again and zoom in on just the door. Taylor leads the way and unlocks it, but lets me enter before him. He reaches past me and flips on a light switch, illuminating the place. It's somehow everything I was expecting from his Shea. Their home is tastefully decorated in all things that scream an essence of Texas. The giant portrait of a cow hanging above their small L shaped sofa is my particular favorite. The room itself is small—the kitchen and the living room both visible from the front door—but considering the houses my dad prefers, anything else is miniature.

"It's not much, but it's home." Taylor moves further into the house and sits my bag down next to the bar stools at the island. He asks me if I'd like anything to drink.

"Water, please," I say as I move towards the gallery wall resting at the beginning of the hallway. I can only assume the path leads to their bedrooms, but I don't make it any further than the first few frames. The entire wall is filled with small tile pictures. Their sizes are all different, but each one contains the same focal point—Taylor and Nora at different ages, in various activities. I notice one in particular looks like a newer addition. It doesn't quite fit the arrangement of the others. I point as I continue to study it.

"She hung this?" I ask.

The picture is one I took of their family in the hotel room after the surprise I had planned for them. It's hardly wall worthy, considering it's slightly unfocused. I was crying uncontrollably, so I'm lucky it's as clear as it is. Taylor hands me a glass and his fingers brush against mine as he does. He pulls away quickly and clears his throat, "Hmm. Yeah, she's talked about it nonstop so we gave it to her for Christmas. She made me hang it up immediately after she opened it." I wonder if the picture he sent me was triggered by this very gift. As if adding a little piece of me to their home gave him no choice but to reach out.

"You're the best son, Taylor. I hope you know that," I say, looking up at him. His green eyes are intense, and intently watching me. I don't look away, though, for maybe the first time in months.

Taylor's brows furrow again. "Yeah," he grunts. "But look where that's gotten me."

"What does that mean? You can't stop someone from getting sick Taylor. Your charm may be God given, but it doesn't work miracles."

My reflection flickers in his irises, but they don't waver as he speaks again. "Trying to be the best son is why we're in this fucking situation in the first place. It's why you're standing here, in my house in Texas and I can't touch you." Frustration rings through his voice as he points between us. "And it's the same reason you didn't even tell me you were coming. I haven't talked to you in months, and for what? I wanted to buy her more time, Camryn, but even that didn't work. So I can't even say any of it was worth it, because it wasn't. I thought I was doing the right thing, not by you, but by her. And yet, I'm still about to lose her. I've already lost you, and now I'll really have nothing to show for it." Taylor's voice cracks as the last words come out. I sit my glass of water on the console table next to me and close the gap between us until we're mere inches apart. The knot in his throat bobs up and down as he swallows hard.

"I haven't talked to you because I didn't know what to say to you, not because I didn't want to. I didn't tell you I was coming because I didn't want to bother you," I say, inching my feet the last few inches remaining between us. I reach up to smooth out the crease between his brows, but let my hand linger on his cheek after. I let the feel of his stubble soak into every nerve ending in my fingertips. "And if you want to touch me, all you have to do is ask."

I can feel Taylor's jaw set beneath my palm. He brings a hand up and grips my wrist. "I didn't think you would want me to," He whispers as if he's afraid of what I might say next. Like it's a temptation that might be pulled right from under his nose if he makes one wrong move.

I slide my wrist from his grasp and lace our fingers together the same way he did at the hospital. I wonder now, like I did then, if he can feel the warmth that rushes through me from a single touch.

"It's another thing I never admitted to you. I've always liked it when you touch me, even when I thought I didn't want it." I use my grip on his hand to pull Taylor closer to me. He staggers, but obliges and quickly leans forward. His lips brush mine briefly before he pulls away again. It wasn't the kiss I was hoping for. It's as if he's using my lips as an awakening, to bring him back into the moment. I grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth back to mine.

Taylor leans into me, but the kiss remains slow. I'm savoring the feeling when his tongue parts my lips. It glides into my mouth and connects with mine. The taste of him melds with the taste of me. It's the first time we've touched since early November when he left my dorm, the last time we were both truly happy.

It's me who deepens the kiss. I need to feel even closer to him. Taylor's hands find their way to my side before raking their way up to my face. His thumbs begin stroking my cheeks. After one final kiss, he uses his hands to pull my face away from his. I expect to see my smile reflected on his face, but instead the same worried expression has returned.

"What does this mean Camryn? I mean—I just." He stumbles over his words. "I don't want to do this the wrong way with you, not again. I let myself be selfish with you before, but I won't do it again. Not if it means I could lose you all over again. I need to know what this is before I get carried away because fuck, Camryn it's too easy. I've imagined taking you every fucking way I can," Taylor says as his hands continue to cradle my face.

I run my tongue over my teeth unable, but not unwilling, to form the words. I had hoped we could be the old us for just a little while longer before I had to share my truth. The last time I told Taylor how I felt, it didn't exactly turn out the way I had envisioned. The circumstances are completely different this time, but trying to explain that to my heart is like trying to explain daylight savings time. I know it exists, and we're better off because we have it, but it doesn't change the fact that a lot of people in the world function just fine without it. My heart could function without Taylor, it has for months now, but it doesn't mean it's what's best for me. It doesn't mean that I want to. Taylor wants me to be honest with him, the same way he is with me.

"You said you're worried that everything you did was for nothing and that you're going to lose us. I'm not going to say that you aren't going to lose your mom or me, Taylor. I can't make promises that I know I can't keep, but I think when I chose to come here I was finally ready to face you. I still don't know what to say to you, but I think this is me trying to at least be one thing that stays with you... I don't know what's going to happen. But the last couple of months of my life have been good." I shift my weight from one foot to the next. "I thought my personal growth stopped when I finished treatment, but I was wrong. I'm never going to be done growing and improving, but that's something I find comfort in now... I get to wake up every day and choose to be the best version of me, for me. In the last couple of months, even when I was making choices for myself, I still couldn't be my best because you weren't there. Since I met you, you've pushed me to be someone and something that wasn't comfortable and went above the limits I set for myself. I set those limits because of what I had been through, and what I thought I could handle."

"You've never treated me as some situation that needed to be handled like most of the people in my life. And I've tried to hate you, Taylor. I wanted to scream at you and blame you for the mess that you turned me into, but I couldn't. If anything, our situations should remind us that life is too short, and that when given the chance we should give it our all. We shouldn't have to pretend to care or to not care. We should do whatever the fuck we want to do. Because even if we only have two weeks or two years or two hundred years it's never going to feel like long enough if we spend most of it hiding from our truths. I don't want to be known for the choices I've made or the fallout they've caused. I want to be known for the things that I love Taylor. I want to be known for my photography, and for being a kind soul. I want to be known as someone that others can depend on and look to. And I want to be known as the person who loves Taylor Reed and gets to be loved back by him because you have the best love to give. And even if you've made mistakes along the way, it's still our story and we should get to choose how it ends."

I inhale and exhale deeply as I finish my monologue. I've lost control of my motor functions as my body continues to shake from the magnitude of the moment. I screw my eyes shut and stifle a sob. Taylor still hasn't said anything, but I feel his hands move from my face to the back of my head. He uses the new grip to pull my face to his chest. Relief floods over me as his familiar scent fills my lungs. I take a few deep breaths here, savoring this feeling.

I can't fight the fact that he could still not choose me even after everything I just shared. His silence right now could very well mean just that. He was kissing me back a few minutes ago, but perhaps that was because he didn't expect to leave here in any type of relationship. Maybe his affections were nothing more than a symbol of closure. He continues to punish me with silence as he rubs a hand over my hair in a comforting motion.

"Taylor," I choke out. "Please say something, or say nothing and I'll know that I need to leave. But I just need to know."

My head rises and falls in time with his breathing for a few more seconds before I hear the rumble of his voice from within his chest. "I want to be the best version of myself too, Camryn, but that version doesn't exist without you."

I pull away from his chest to find his lips already parting for mine. We reconnect, this time without hesitations or reservations. Our kisses are hungry, as if finally allowing ourselves to feel the insatiable need that has laid dormant beneath the surface.

I let Taylor pick me up. My legs wrap around him easily. He walks us what feels like ten steps before my back connects with a mattress. I pull away briefly to take in the room he has described to me in limited words. The navy blue wall behind his bed is covered with shelves of trophies and metals, his own personal timeline in the form of awards and accomplishments. He begins to laugh between kisses when he catches me craning my neck in an attempt to read each plaque. He promises to give me a tour when he's finished with me, which could be hours at this point. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.

Taylor kisses the length of my fully clothed body. Only when he reaches the bottom of my torso does he gently raise the hem of my sweatshirt— his sweatshirt—to kiss the sensitive skin of my stomach. With each kiss he places on my body, he slides the material up a little further until he's able to slide it over my head.

"I told myself," he says between kisses on both cheeks."That if I ever got you back in my bed I would keep you there forever." He nudges my cheek with his nose to gain access to my neck once more.

I let out a moan as he kisses the little area of skin just below my ear, "That was a little serial killer-ish," I tease.

"Send me to prison, then. Just as long as I can keep doing this," He purrs, continuing to mark his territory over me.

When we've both removed our last articles of clothing and nothing stands between us, we waste no time giving the one thing we need the most. It's not so much about the pleasure, but the need to be as close as possible to the other. The desire to feel the other in a way that only we can, lives in both of us. We continue to move as one— his body the ocean, my body the shore—until we're both rippled and wrecked with waves of ecstasy.

I roll off of him and curl myself into his side. Taylor, however, doesn't like this and pulls me closer to him until my front is haphazardly laying across his. I rest my head up in one of my hands so I can look at him. Little beads of sweat have formed at his temples, so I use my finger to swipe them away.

"I love you Camryn. I know that I've made a lot of mistakes when it comes to us. But I'll do whatever I can to not let you down again. I'm five seconds left in the fourth quarter and down by six, you're my Hail Mary. As long as I have you, I can't lose," He says. The deep groove has returned to the skin between his eyebrows once again.

I use my finger to smooth it out as I say, "That could have possibly been the best ending to our story if you hadn't ruined it with that awful football analogy." I can't help the smile that fills my face, especially when I see the one on Taylor's. It's the first time since he found me outside the hospital that it actually reaches his eyes.

"But it's not the end. It's not even the beginning. It's just an important part of the story," Taylor says as he reaches over the side of the bed to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. He opens the camera app and extends his arm. I swat at him, attempting to pull the covers high over my nude body. Taylor snaps a picture of us anyway. My face is barely peeking out from under the blue comforter, but the smile on his face is perhaps the biggest I've ever seen.

"You better add this one to the timeline, and I want it to be captioned, Make-up Sex," Taylor says as he holds the image in front of my face. I promise him that I will, that out of everything we've been through, even when we weren't talking, it's all earned a place on the timeline.

"But I think I'll caption it, When I told Taylor I loved him, too. 'cause I do, with every piece of me."