Treacherous (Taylor x Fem OC)

48

A/N: Well! It's been a hot minute, yeah? I deeply apologize for being gone for so long. My semester was very taxing on my time on top of my job, so I am sorry but I have some time and I was able to get in some writing and I hope this longer chapter makes up for it!

I truly do apologize, I love you all and I thank you for being so patient with me.

I hope this chapter makes up for my missing time, I hope to get things moving along a bit more with this story and preparing for Book 2 as well! (Yes there will be a Book 2, don't worry)

Enjoy!

Taylor POV

The drive back was silent, the only sound being both of our running thoughts, but I could not figure out what Wren's were saying. All that I could focus on was the look on Wren's face at her mother's cries. The cries of a woman realizing she were a fool, that she lost out on a brilliant young woman, a woman she chose to miss out on raising, a woman she chose to treat like dirt on the bottom of her shoe, a woman I've been trying to pick up the pieces of when she trembles at night, jumps at sudden sounds, stresses about a little speck of mess on her floors.

She could not possibly have been serious about returning tomorrow morning.

That visit to her mother showed me more than I ever wished to have imagined could have happened to Wren in her childhood.

"This never would've happened without you, Taylor."

She's right.

This is all my fault, I brought this on. If I just stopped pushing, just let it be, then this would've never happened. I handed her right back to her mother and I can already see the claw marks she's begun to dig into my girlfriend once again, before the previous scars have even fully healed.

It was supposed to be simple. Come to London, get time away from the cameras and the people, the bright lights of it all, do our work quietly, cut off Alice from Wren completely, and get on with our lives.

This is anything but simple now.

She's been sitting by the fire while I stare, plucking at guitar strings as if the words will come to me, but even music is failing.

I cannot figure out the words.

I don't know what to say but I know what I want to say.

The thoughts are flying too fast for me to grab at any letters and place them in a coherent sentence.

"She told me she loves me."

My fingers move on the strings, plucking lighter, grazing over the metallic things as if going too hard will destroy the world, careful and soft.

Her hair is tousled, the brownish blonde locks brushing just shy of her shoulders now. I can't see her face, but I can hear her expression. Eyes wide and unblinking, staring into the flames for answers neither of us have.

I lick my lips and stare at the back of her head, praying that this goes well as I say, "She did."

Her swallow is loud enough to reach me, her shoulders tense and back, like a kid who's just been scolded for bad posture attempting to overdo it to please.

The guitar strings vibrate beneath my touch, humming in harmony of the crackling flames between the stone atop the ashing wood, both trying to say their piece of the situation, but too quiet like the cowardly ways of my tongue.

"She wants to get to know me."

Coward. I am a coward. I've been so vocal with Wren, so open and honest like we promised one another, and now it's as if I'm a meek little deer, frightened at the first sound on the road.