Page 57 of Take Care, Taylor

“And till death do you part?”

“Yes.” He sighed, and for several moments, neither of us said a word.

I glanced over my shoulder and spotted my mother through the window.

Fresh tears fell from her red-rimmed eyes as she turned on the tea kettle.

“This doesn’t change anything between me and you,” my father spoke again. “I’ll always love you, I promise. And these next few months may be hard, but I can assure you that?—”

My thumb hovered over the red button, hesitating for a fraction of a second—then I pressed it. Final. Irreversible.

I ended the call before he could complete that sentence and immediately blocked his number.

He clearly had no idea what the wordpromisemeant, and I didn’t want to hear from him for a long time.

Still in disbelief, I returned inside and helped my mom make the tea. Then I waited until she fell asleep before grabbing the keys to my dad’s four-wheeler and buckling myself in.

I drove aimlessly through the neighborhood, the tires crunching over gravel, headlights cutting through the fog. Every street looked the same—quiet houses, sleeping families, people whose lives weren’t splitting in half tonight.

The more I drove, the heavier my chest felt. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel anything. I just wanted noise.

So I revved the engine harder, took a corner too fast, and let the wind sting my face until it burned.

That’s when movement caught my eye?—

A lone figure sitting under the yellow glow of the convenience-store sign, knees tucked up, ice cream in hand, like the world hadn’t just ended for the rest of us.

Audrey Parker.

For a split second, I almost wanted to tell her what happened.

Then the words curdled in my throat. Rage, grief, whatever it was—it flared bright and bitter.

She had no idea what had just imploded inside my house, and I wasn’t about to tell her. But I needed somewhere to put all that hurt.

And she’d always been the easiest place to start.

I pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine, gravel crackling beneath the tires.

“I don’t see what you could be smiling about,” I said. “Your life sucks.”

“That’s the best you have?” She arched a brow. “Circle around the lot, think of something a bit more cutting, and try me again.”

I blinked.

“Go on.” She licked her ice cream. “I have faith in you, asshole.”

I narrowed my eyes, but I did as she said. Then I circled around three more times before parking again.

“You may not have buck teeth anymore, but you’re still ugly,” I offered.

“What?” She snorted. “Did your brain reset to sixth grade? What the hell is that?”

“I want you to be miserable.”

“I usually am whenever you’re near,” she said. “I’m throwing you a lifeline here. I need to feel something.”

“I hate you, Audrey.”