Page 78 of Take Care, Taylor

“I know what you thought.” His thumb brushed the corner of my lip. “But I’m not interested in anyone but you, Audrey. Just you.”

For a moment, I believed him completely.

TRACK 33. WI$H LI$T (4:04)

AUDREY

A Couple Weeks Later

Bears End Preseason Undefeated:Will Wolff’s Return Help or Harm?

Wolff Injury Update:Taylor to Return Sooner Than Expected

Rumor Alert:Taylor Wolff’s “Shakespearean SideQuest” Leaves Fans Curious

Ilaughed at the latest headlines and set down my phone.

I’d never felt like this before. Every relationship I’d had in the past paled in comparison to the whirlwind that was Taylor Wolff. I never wanted our late nights on the beach to end, never wanted to stop memorizing the sound of his laugh or the way he said my name like it belonged to him.

I couldn’t believe I was falling for the boy who once ripped my bleeding heart apart—trusting him now with the stitches, the sutures, the fragile rhythm beneath his hands.

The highway stretched endlessly ahead, the ocean flashing silver to our right as the waves chased us down the coast. The windows were cracked, salt air in our lungs, the hum of music low between us.

Taylor clasped my hand behind the gearshift, strumming my knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

I looked over, catching the hint of a smile that could undo me with a single glance.

“If this is what falling feels like,” I murmured, “I don’t want it to stop.”

He squeezed my hand. “Then don’t.”

TRACK 34. GLITCH (3:59)

AUDREY

The condo was quiet except for the faint rhythm of rain against the windows and the low hum of the dishwasher. I sat cross-legged on the couch, my laptop open but forgotten.

Taylor was stretched out across from me, reading game notes on his tablet, a mug of black coffee balanced on his knee. For a while we just existed in the same space—comfortable, easy—until the question that had been clawing at the back of my throat finally slipped free.

“Can I ask you something?”

He didn’t look up. “You always do.”

“Why were you so cruel to me during our junior year of high school?” My voice was softer than I meant. “Especially that second semester. You were worse than usual, and I’ve never known why.”

He blinked, setting the tablet aside. “I don’t remember being worse.”

“I do.” The words came out like a confession. “I still feel it when I think about it sometimes. I want to know what changed.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters to me.”

He hesitated—then, too quickly, said, “Maybe it was because my dad was sleeping with your mom.”

My heart stuttered. “What?”

He looked away. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said that.”