Taylor

Chapter Seventeen

The day was full of dread as I tried to decide if I wanted to go to dinner tonight at seven o'clock or if I wanted to skip it and claim sickness. Or that my dog died. Or maybe work called.

I sighed.

Those would all be lies and that made me feel a little guilty—as did the idea of skipping. So, when six-thirty came around, I headed to the address written on the piece of paper. I arrived a few minutes before seven and waited in my car until it was time.

It was the husband who answered the door when I knocked and he instantly shook my hand. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet the man who helped save my son. I'm Mike."

The wife came in then and smiled broadly at me, offering her hand as well as she said, "I'm Peggy. I realized after you left that I never actually introduced myself." She chuckled and let go.

"Well, considering the circumstances, I'd say it's understandable. I'm Taylor."

They gestured for me to follow them and took me into their living room.

"There's still a few more minutes before dinner, so just make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you." I sat down on their brown leather sofa and glanced around awkwardly.

The sound of crutches came from down the hall, then a boy emerged from the hallway entrance and smiled at me.

"This is our son, Alex. Alex, Taylor."

Alex's smile brightened even more as he stopped in front of me. "I sure am glad you came along when you did."

"Me too. Glad you're okay." I glance down at his cast.

"They had to use wire and pins and I'll have rehab for a while, will probably end up with a limp."

"Oh, that's rough."

He shrugged like he didn't care, but I was suspicious of that. What kind of teenager didn't mind a limp?

When dinner was ready, we all sat around a large dining room table that was set for five people. I furrowed my eyebrows at the extra plate and looked at Peggy.

"Oh, our other son is joining us as well. He's visiting from college this weekend." She smiled. "He's probably about your age. How old are you? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?"

"I'm twenty-two."

"See, I knew you were close to his age. He's twenty-one. Usually, he shows up just in time for dinner—"

As if on queue, I heard the front door open and someone hollered, "I'm home!" Interrupting Peggy's sentence.

Her face brightened and she scurried to the living room, a few seconds later she came back in. "This is my son, Fynn."

To my surprise, a familiar face entered the dining room. He was one of the kids that had been bullied by Tom and a few other jocks—except he looked way different now. Much less bully-able.

He paused in his tracks and stared at me. "Taylor Schofield? You're the hero?"

"You know each other?" Peggy asked her son.

"We went to school together."

"What a small world! How come you never mentioned Taylor before?"

"We just... knew each other in passing. We weren't a part of the same clique."

I wondered whether or not they knew their son got bullied in school or if he hid it from them. He had been one of the few openly gay kids at school, and one of Tom's favorite scrawny, easy target. He'd have his work cut out for him now though.