Thirty Days
I reach my hand to cup his face and whisper, "This is not your fault."
Taylor places his forehead against mine, and I see the bleak look in his eyes, a mixture of grief and guilt. "It is all my fault." The words are harsh and I flinch slightly, but I hold firm and repeat, "This is not your fault." Shutting off the shower, I let Taylor wrap me up in the biggest fluffy towel I have ever seen, pick me up and return me to his bed. Taylor is softly patting me dry when his phone rings, startling us both out of our intense reverie.
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