(THE “S” STANDS FOR HOPE) CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE: TAYLOR II

Dinner had gone about as well as Taylor expected, which meant terribly.

Sure, nobody yelled, nobody threw accusations across the table, or mean looks. But her dad had been polite in that painfully stiff way he slipped into when he was trying very hard not to make his displeasure obvious, and Brian had barely spoken at all. Aisha, somehow, had been the most openly hostile person in the room despite also being the one to ask David if he wanted more mashed potatoes halfway through dinner.

It was weird.

David himself didn’t help much. He answered questions when asked, but only barely, giving short responses, and taking pauses before most of them. He looked more comfortable floating over the city than sitting at a kitchen table with plates and silverware.

Taylor caught him staring at the family photos on the wall at one point, then he noticed her noticing and looked away.

The meatloaf really was good, though.

Her dad had gone all out without meaning to. The nice plates had come out, and he had used the good seasoning. Actual effort hidden under the excuse of “well, we had a guest.”

Nobody called him on it.

By the time dinner ended, the tension had become almost tangible, enough so that she almost preferred if a fight or argument had broken out. 

Aisha leaned back in her chair, eyeing David openly.

“So,” she said. “…you planning to kill us or are we good?”

“Aisha,” her dad sighed.

“What? I’m vetting him.”

David looked at her for a second. 

“No,” he said.

Brian stood first.

“Taylor,” he said.

He had only said her name, but that was enough. The basement door clicked shut behind them a minute later.

Brian folded his arms immediately, and her dad rubbed a hand over his face before Taylor could even start talking.

“That,” Brian said carefully, “was insane.”

“I know how it looks—”

“You brought a stranger into the house.”

“He’s not—”

“He’s a cape, Taylor.”

That shut her up for a second.

Brian wasn’t raising his voice, which honestly made it hit harder. Especially since he looked more exhausted than angry. 

“You didn’t try to warn us,” he continued. “You just showed up with someone nobody knows anything about.”

“I made a judgment call.”

“A bad one.”

Taylor exhaled sharply through her nose and looked away. The basement suddenly felt too small and too warm. Then she looked to her dad, who was leaning against the old washing machine nearby, arms crossed now too.

“You said he can fly,” he said. “And your bugs couldn’t get a read on him properly.”

“Yeah.”

“And that didn’t maybe suggest caution to you?”

“It did.”

Brian stared at her. “Taylor.”

“I’m serious,” she snapped, then immediately regretted the hard edge in her voice. “I know how this sounds, okay? I do.”

Silence.

Upstairs, faint through the ceiling, she could hear Aisha talking. Probably at David. God help him.

Taylor dragged a hand through her hair.

“He wasn’t acting hostile,” she said finally. “He barely looked like he knew where he was.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s safe,” Brian replied.

“I know.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I do.”

And she did.

That was the frustrating part.

Taylor wasn’t blind to the risks here. If anything, she was usually the person most aware of them. Every bad scenario had already gone through her head the second she decided to bring him home: if he attacked, if he was lying, if he was stronger than he looked, and if this somehow blew back on all of them…

But she’d looked at him standing there on that rooftop and he had seemed so—

Lost.

The word came back again.

Her dad sighed quietly. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Taylor frowned. “Doing what?”

“Trying to save every stray thing that looks hurt.”

The words landed harder than they probably meant to, and she looked down at the concrete floor in response.

For a second nobody spoke, then Brian let out a breath and some of the tension went out of him.

“If you’re going to do something like this again—”

“I’ll call or text.”

Brian held her gaze for another second, like he was checking if she actually meant it. Then, apparently satisfied, he nodded slightly. Her dad looked less convinced, but the tightness in his shoulders eased a little.

Upstairs, something crashed loudly. And Aisha’s voice floated faintly through the ceiling.

“Okay, that one was my fault.”

Taylor closed her eyes briefly.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why did we leave her alone with him?”

“Because she can disappear if things go bad,” Taylor muttered.

“That’s not comforting.”

“It’s a little comforting.”

Her dad snorted despite himself, and the tension eased a little after that.

Taylor leaned back against the wall, folding her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I should’ve warned you.”

“You think?” Brian said.

She gave him a flat look. “Trying to apologize here.”

He looked away, a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry.”

A pause. Then her dad frowned slightly, studying her.

“You went out tonight.”

Taylor stiffened a little.

Brian noticed immediately too. Of course he did.

“You’ve been going out more?” he asked.

“No.”

The look he gave her made her amend that instantly.

“…A little.”

“How long?”

“Not long.”

“Taylor.”

She looked away. “A couple times.”

Brian swore under his breath.

Her dad just looked tired.

“You said you were done,” Brian said.

“I thought I was.”

“And now?”

Taylor opened her mouth.

Nothing came out at first. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

She didn’t know.

Brockton Bay wasn’t the same city anymore. Neither was she. And yet the second she’d stepped onto that rooftop tonight, something in her had settled into place again so naturally it scared her a little.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

No one said anything to that.

So they stood there in the basement for a while longer, quiet except for the noise upstairs and the gurgling of old pipes in the walls.