Call Me Michigan Read online

  He gave her a weak smile and then left the bank.

  “You know, Stiles, I hated what happened between you and Ash, but honestly, I … I think I get it now.” He inwardly groaned as he realized that Kelly had obviously waited for him while the boys played catch a few steps away. While he would’ve preferred Taylor, he was glad that at least with Kelly, he’d be able to leave soon.

  “I always wondered what I did to you, but figured it was because of Ash, and I’m glad I was right. I’m sorry I hurt your friend, and I love that she has friends as loyal as you are. It’s what a girl needs. So if you could excuse me now? I gotta get to work.” He passed her, and Kelly reached out, stopping him with her fingertips on his arm.

  “I’m Taylor’s friend, too,” she remarked, and he blinked.

  “Okay?” he stated slowly, not exactly sure what that had to do with anything. Unless she thought … “No, Kelly. No. I have a four-year-old to take care of, I work in shifts, she just returned, and I don’t know anythin’ about her and …” Why was he even justifying himself? There was no need to, and therefore, he stopped. He knew that Ashley, Taylor, and Kelly used to be close, but making him the pariah was still wrong. Plus, if he continued his sentence the way he had started it, he’d only confirm what everyone guessed. “I used to be in love with her, but that was more than a decade ago, Kelly. All Taylor needs right now is a bunch of friends who have her back no matter what,” he finished instead. Then he told her a polite good-bye and moved away before she could say more.

  In his truck, he sat and paused, wishing for a beer instead of having to work. He dialed his best friend, putting the phone on speaker while guiding the truck out onto the street toward Freedom.

  “What’s up, man?”

  “I get off at six tomorrow and will be home by seven. I’m gonna get Becca to bed and ask Mom to watch over her. Do you feel like hanging out and having a few beers with me then?” Mason inquired, hearing Brad sigh like an old man who had to get up just to switch the TV channel.

  “Taylor? Or Ash? Because you haven’t called me up for a fun beer date in … forever,” Brad fussed, and Mason choked out a laugh.

  “Come again? I do that a lot,” he protested. “Like seven weeks ago?”

  “You had just heard that Taylor would be coming back. You sat on the bed of your truck next to me and stared at the stars until deciding that most likely ya wouldn’t be able to handle it,” Brad admonished, and Mason couldn’t even argue. “You’ve become too serious, man. How about you come to the game after your shift tomorrow?”

  Mason thought for a moment. Taylor would be there, Ash had mentioned, and it would give him some time to watch her from afar. “Ash is takin’ Taylor to the game,” he muttered, hoping that Brad wouldn’t try to take his suggestion back.

  “Taylor told you?”

  “Ashley told me.” The sentence hung between them for a few seconds, and then Brad burst out laughing.

  “Was she drunk or on drugs? Tied down and locked up? Delirious or half-asleep? That woman refuses to speak to you, and she would keep that up even if she were dyin’.” He chuckled, and Mason actually found himself smiling.

  “I ran into Ash after I ran into Michigan,” he declared, still wondering what had made his ex break her vow of silence toward him.

  “Ah … assuming Michigan is Taylor, I see,” Brad asserted. Now, wasn’t that interesting?

  “Oh, you see, huh?” Mason growled, wondering why he was still standing among fog when everyone else seemed to be seeing as clear as day.

  “Come on, Mase. You probably gave Taylor the puppy-dog eyes like you used to. For twelve years, you’ve been salivatin’ after a girl, or better, the perfect picture you created of her in your mind. Havin’ her back must be hard for Ash because, let’s face it, you still want Taylor. You never got over her. Ashley probably thought you wasted your time on a dream, but then she probably realized that it didn’t matter because she simply wasn’t it.”

  “The whole town is talking about it like that, but …” He briefly closed his eyes before focusing back on the road. There was no ‘but’ really. He’d been in knots since the moment he had heard she’d be back, and then, when she had been in his truck and pointed out who she was … his mind had gone blank. Holding her then, he felt like he could finally breathe again. “I still love her,” he concluded.

  “No, dude, you love what you thought you two could be,” Brad injected, and Mason pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “So what do you suggest then?” he wondered.

  “Game. Beer. Get to know the new girl, the Michigan one, and see where it takes you. Maybe this time around, you’ll have a real chance … and you can get into the panties you’ve been admirin’ for so long,” Brad teased, and Mason could hear him grin, being glad that a comment like that had come at the end. There had been too much seriousness going on. He wouldn’t deny, though, that he liked the plan.

  “Game. Beer,” he concurred before he hung up. He needed some good old country to soothe his soul before another brutal twenty-four-hour shift started. And what helped better for a broken heart than having people serenade you with promises of forever, nights in a truck, and fires ignited by sparks of passion?

  The house was quiet. So far, Taylor had tried to read, then turned on the TV to watch for a few seconds, before turning it off again and bathing the house in another round of silence. She couldn’t sit still long enough to relax, instead pacing the living room. She felt watched with every turn, making her even more antsy.

  Eventually, she stepped out onto the porch, her heart urging her to where she used to find solace. Shaking her head, her steps brought her back inside. She straightened everything in the living room, placing the pillows in a neat row and lining up the magazines on the side table. She brushed her hands across the throw cover of the couch, then she went to the kitchen. Sadly, that was just as clean as the other room and just as suffocating. Finally, she reached for a lighter, passing the coat rack and grabbing Mason’s jacket since it was the only security blanket she really had. Without thinking, she followed the urging of her heart.

  The evening air was cool even though it was a summer’s night, and usually, she would’ve paused to enjoy the clean air, but her ballerina-covered feet had no intention of lingering. She had the way burned into her mind, and with every step she took, a weight lifted off her shoulders. She crossed the little creek that had always marked the spot where her heart would start racing in anticipation. This time, it fluttered in anxiousness.

  The old barn door still opened as easily as it always had, and she took a moment to let her eyes get used to the darkness. She moved forward into the barn, climbing the ladder she knew too well. Next to the last step was the oil lamp that sat exactly where she remembered it. She lit it with a flicker of her lighter, and then she looked around.

  The couch she remembered still sat to her right, covered by a sheet, and against the wall across from her sat the desk in the same condition, hidden from her eyes by white linen. She walked over and tried the desk lamp, surprised when it flickered to life, adding to the oil lamp’s golden glow.

  Back when things had gotten too loud or too crazy, she had found refuge here. During her finals in high school, she had practically lived in that barn, needing to escape her parents.

  With a deep breath, she carefully pulled the sheet from the desk, her heart aching as she realized it was in the exact same condition as the last time she had walked out of here. Emotions overwhelmed her as she spotted all the pictures still standing there. Only one was missing, but she couldn’t pinpoint what had been on it. Even though this once had been created as ‘Mason’s cool hangout,’ he had given her the chance to feel more at home by decorating it the way she wanted.

  “I was wondering when you’d be back,” a voice remarked behind her, and Taylor spun around.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stiles. I didn’t mean to trespass,” she mumbled, feeling sixteen all over again.

  “Oh, please! Th
is place belongs to you probably just as much as it belongs to my son. During the summer, some days I felt like I had six kids instead of one.” Mason’s mother laughed, and Taylor looked back at the pictures. Kelly, John, Brad, Ashley, Mason, and she had spent so much time up there; she couldn’t place them with one exact memory. As it was, everyone was beaming, and Taylor definitely remembered. They had laughed so much up here that she thought they would make the bad of the world vanish.

  “You always brought us your sweet tea. Mason hated sweet tea.” She grinned.

  “He knew you loved it,” Mrs. Stiles replied, and Taylor crossed her arms in front of her body, feeling her fingertips brush up against the cuffs of Mason’s jacket.

  “I did,” she admitted. His mom had always prepared it fresh, extra for them, and they all had pretended it was her way of telling them that she loved each and every one of them.

  “Did? You no longer like sweet tea?”

  Taylor hadn’t had sweet tea in a very long time. In the big city, she had once tried it, but it never came close to what she remembered it to be, so she gave up on it.

  “I stopped a lot of things when I was in Michigan and the city.” She sighed, and Stella walked over to the covered sofa, sitting down on it.

  “You know, all the time Mason and Ashley were a couple, I never saw her wear Mason’s college jacket.” The topic change made Taylor grit her teeth. She rubbed her chest as her heart did a few painful thuds. As much as Taylor tried to pretend differently, she was more than a little jealous that Ashley had been with him.

  “He gave it to me when he drove me home,” she explained. “Probably pity on his part.”

  “I kinda figured that you didn’t steal it, sweetness,” Mason’s mother winked, chuckling quietly. “Sit, little Collins girl.”

  Taylor shook her head at that nickname, almost tearing up. It had always made her feel protected.

  “You do realize I have a little sister, right?” Taylor teased, and Mason’s mom lowered her eyes to her hands.

  “I do. I realize, too, that though you changed a lot, some things never change,” she commented. “Did you know that cowboys only fall in love once? Either they are lucky and will end up spending their life with that lady, or they’ll forever hunt the feeling, never finding true happiness. Seems the same goes for cowgirls, don’t you think?”

  “Mrs. Stiles –”

  “Call me Stella,” Mason’s mother insisted, and Taylor watched her for a few seconds.

  “So this is it, huh? I’m really a grown-up if you offer me first names,” she joked, not being able to sit. Instead, she paced the small room, pulling Mason’s jacket closer around her body.

  “Mason’s still everythin’ that brings you comfort, just like he was over a decade ago. I always thought you’d end up being my daughter-in-law, and even now, my heart soars knowing you’re back.” Stella got up and reached for a frame on the desk. “Mason always smiled widest when you were around,” she continued, rendering Taylor speechless. She walked over to the window, glancing over at the old farmhouse.

  The porch light was on, and it illuminated the well-kept wood. The house had always looked small from the barn, but Taylor knew the long hallway inside that led to a kitchen, a living room, the pantry, and a bathroom, then having stairs that brought you upstairs. Mason’s room, an office, the Stiles’ bedroom, and a bathroom had been found there. Now, she could see multi-colored lights spin in what used to be his sanctuary, and she guessed it was his daughter’s new room.

  “On nights when Mase is at work, Becca needs those lights. It’s as if she feels him being out of the house then,” Stella observed next to her, joining her at the window.

  “She most likely knows the sounds of Mason’s truck leaving the driveway,” Taylor stated drily, and Stella laughed.

  “That might be true, too. I like my version better.” Stella winked and then touched Taylor’s arm, drawing her attention. The other woman had gone serious. “Why are you here, honey?”

  Taylor rested her hands on the windowsill, lowering her head. “Tim isn’t home and Tammy’s away at college. The house felt empty yet too crowded. I … I haven’t felt like myself in months and thought coming here would ease my mind,” she answered truthfully and then took a few fortifying breaths.

  “Did it work?”

  Taylor thought for a moment. “Yes and no. Not the way I’d hoped, but everything’s better than being in that house and being reminded of my parents’ expectations at every turn.”

  Mason’s mother smiled at that and then turned to her with a smirk. “Have you ever considered that it wasn’t the place that brought you comfort, but the knowledge that Mason was close?”

  While it most likely was the truth, Taylor had a protest on the tip of her tongue. In the end, she decided to stay quiet, though.

  “Anyway, how are you supposed to feel like yourself when you look like an imposter?”

  Taylor looked down at herself, Mason’s jacket being the only thing that didn’t mark her a city girl.

  “Come with me,” Stella demanded in her typical mom-voice, making Taylor feel cradled again.

  She turned off the lamp and then capped the flame inside the oil lantern. For a second, she wondered if she’d be able to return after Stella had led her to wherever. But she figured she needed to face the music at some point, so going home really was the only right thing to do. Frankly, her heart sank at that thought.

  Stella led her from the barn toward the house, letting Taylor enter first. As much as she had hung out in the barn, she’d barely ever been inside the actual home. It was similar to hers, with the hallway all but separating the house and leading straight to the back door, yet the kitchen at the end was on the wrong side.

  The stairs to her right didn’t allow for a look to that side, but Taylor couldn’t help but wish for a chance to sneak around. As it was, the house had a warm, comforting feeling, and she remembered racing up the stairs on one or two occasions, coming in and running right up to help Mason carry some CDs or whatnot from there to the barn.

  “He has never once given you the tour, has he?” Stella wondered from behind her, pulling Taylor from her pondering.

  “I never asked, and he never offered, so no,” she confessed, shrugging her shoulders.

  “We have a laundry room through here,” she pointed, gesturing toward a door to Taylor’s left. “Pantry’s right next to it. There is a room below the stairs now. It used to be part of the living room, but we made that a little smaller and turned the other room into a spare bedroom. It’s where I stay. Mason would prefer if I’d stay upstairs, but no.” She didn’t elaborate, and Taylor knew better than to poke. “So next to the bedroom is the living room, and across from it the kitchen. Between the pantry and kitchen, there’s a guest bathroom.” They had slowly started walking down the hallway, and Taylor had to grin at the glittering circles that adorned the walls.

  “Becca loves coloring, but stayin’ inside the lines is hard for her … and so is stayin’ inside a coloring book.” Stella sighed, and Taylor knelt in front of the lines. They were all about the same height, and she figured the least you could do was make it look as if there was a purpose.

  “Do you have empty pictures frames?” Stella looked at her, puzzled, but then went in search for some while Taylor’s smile slipped from her lips.

  If she had reacted differently that night at the bus station, would those be the drawings of her daughter? Would they be a family here, she and Mason? Was it possible to find true love at sixteen?

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Stella offered from somewhere behind her, and Taylor wiped away a stray tear that had escaped her eyes. She cleared her throat, looking at the floor.

  “Did you find one?”

  Stella leaned against the wall next to her, handing her some frames while guarding her expression.

  “I didn’t know which size you needed,” she mumbled, her voice full of emotions that Taylor didn’t want to analyze. Instead, she picked
the frames she liked best, peeling away the foil and taking off the back covers. Then she held up two, framing Becca’s drawings.

  “In the morning, you should put those up. It’ll make her feel special. Besides that, you can tell her to color only inside it. Otherwise, the frames won’t fit any longer. It might not work, but it’s worth a try,” she explained, standing up while yawning.

  “You know, my original plan was to give you one of Mason’s lumberjack shirts, but now … how about you stay for the night? We don’t have a guestroom anymore, but since Mason’s at work, I’m sure he won’t mind you stayin’ in his bed. Especially not if you won’t find any sleep at home.”

  Involuntarily, Taylor’s eyes darted up to the ceiling as if she’d be able to look straight into his bedroom. Her heart beat erratically at the thought of staying where he most likely was unguarded – and uncovered.

  “I can’t,” she whispered even though she wanted nothing more. “It’s his bed, and he’s not here for us to –”

  “Shut up, girl,” Stella fussed softly. “He won’t be home until tomorrow evenin’, so let’s get you to bed.”

  They never had finished the tour, but that didn’t matter. She followed Mason’s mother upstairs, reaching for the door she knew to be his, but Stella stilled her hand on the handle, making Taylor remember the colorful lights.

  “That’s Becca’s room now, and Mason moved into the master bedroom,” Stella explained. She paused in front of a hallway closet to get a towel for her, and then she led her to the bedroom, turning on the light.

  It was a simple room. A king-size bed was pushed against the right side of the wall across from the window, then there were two dark dressers and an oak wood floor. Glitter paintings covered the walls, and as much as Taylor tried, she couldn’t find one free spot. It couldn’t be more obvious that Mason was devoted to his daughter. Next to her stood a dark chair, a gray hoodie hanging over the back while neatly folded black sweatpants laid on the seat.

  Stella walked over to one dresser while Taylor brushed her fingertips over Mason’s navy blue bedding, almost smiling as she realized that, like her, he didn’t seem to make his bed.