Chapter Seven

"Tay! Wake up!"

Taylor groaned, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter, willing whoever was disturbing him to disappear off the face of the earth. Or at least out of his bedroom. He couldn't wake up yet. He was tired, so tired. He felt like he weighed five hundred pounds, unable to muster up the energy to lift even one eyelid. He just wanted to curl up and sleep forever. Or at least for a few more hours.

"Taylor!"

He buried his face even deeper into the soft pillow, snuggling under the blanket. "Go 'way," he finally managed to mumble.

"Tay!"

Taylor felt his shoulder being jerked around, his head nodding involuntarily. Angrily, he forced his eyes open, and a blurry Isaac swam into focus. "What?!" he demanded irritably. "This had better be damn good, Ike, I'm warning you!"

"Zac's gone," stated Isaac bluntly.

"Gone where?" Taylor was still crabby, pushing his hair away from his face.

"Just gone."

"What do you mean, 'just gone'?" muttered Taylor, rolling over onto his back, squinting up at his elder brother in the early morning sunlight.

Isaac sighed, troubled eyes looking down on Taylor, front teeth tearing nervously at his chapped lower lip. "He didn't come home last night."

"Again?" groaned Taylor. "God, he's gonna come in drunk as a skunk. I'll strangle that Ollie!"

Isaac shook his head. "Ollie's still here. And he thinks Zac's run away. He won't tell me why, but he thinks that something's disturbed Zac."

"When is Zac ever not disturbed?"

"Tay, this is serious! He's been gone since four yesterday afternoon!"

Thinking back, Taylor realized that he hadn't seen Zac at all the day before, but it hadn't seemed unusual. He and Gabbie had gone to the cottage and stayed there most of the night, lying entwined together on the couch, a tangle of arms and legs. Eventually, around nine, they decided that they had been gone a suspiciously long time, and had wandered back over to the house, where they'd joined Ike, Rhia and Jamie in a game of Trivial Pursuit, which Taylor had lost badly. Zac hadn't appeared all evening, but Taylor had just figured that when Ollie came in and said goodnight, Zac was with him. Swallowing, he looked up at Isaac. "What happened? Why is he upset?"

"Ollie won't tell me," Isaac repeated, irritated at Taylor for not listening, then realized that only three minutes ago, the guy had been fast asleep

"Why not?"

"Taylor, I don't know!" This time, he sounded less patient, prompting Taylor's open mouth, all set to fire another dumb question at him, into closing. He sighed. "I wish I did. What do we do? Do we call the cops or what?"

Taylor pursed his lips, then shook his head. "No. They'll just… I mean, moody kids aren't exactly their top priority. We'll all just go look for him. If we still can't find him, then we call the cops."

Resignedly, Isaac massaged his forehead with his hands. "I can't believe he did this."

"Why not?" Taylor rolled his eyes. "Typical Zac stylee right now. You know, the whole airy, blasé, don't-give-a-fuck-about-the-world-and-its-aunt attitude. I'm sick of him."

Isaac pressed his lips together. "Don't be so harsh, Taylor. Maybe this time he has a reason."

Taylor nodded his head mockingly as he rose from his bed, grabbing his towel and heading towards the bathroom. "And my name's Phyllis Fuckmequick."

"What the hell is up with you?" demanded Isaac, raking his hand through his hair. "If your voice was deeper and I was blind, I'd swear I was talking to Zac."

Indignantly, Taylor opened his mouth to protest, but Isaac cut him off, speaking again.

"We need your help, Tay, not an impersonation of the missing brother. I don't know what your problem is, but get over it and clean your mouth up while you take a shower!" With that, he stalked out of the room, long arms swinging purposefully by his side.

"Clean your mouth up," mimicked Taylor to Isaac's retreating back, fully aware that he sounded like a six year old, and not caring. This time, Zac had gone too far. What right did his little brother have to drag him cruelly from Cloud Nine and down the Earth, quick as you like? Taylor had planned on lying in bed until at least eight o'clock - hardly self-indulgent, he'd thought - dreaming and running through the previous evening's events in his mind, remembering the warm, tingling feeling, like he'd been in Heaven. That's what he'd wanted to do - replay the night before, conveniently forgetting that Gabbie was an engaged woman and very soon, Mike The Fiancé was coming to stay. He had not planned on running through the English countryside looking for his selfish brother.

Sighing, he locked the bathroom door behind him. Sure, Zac maybe had a reason for this fiasco. But, knowing the way Zac had been acting lately, it wouldn't be a very good one.

***

Zac huddled closer into the worn-out sofa cushions, closing his eyes miserably, a tear escaping through his eyelids and trickling slowly down his cheek. Sniffing hard, he wiped it away agitatedly with his wrist, desperately trying to stop crying. His eyes ached and itched, his nose was red and raw from continuous blowing and his lips chapped through chewing on them. He froze, hearing a crackling sound outside, only relaxing once the culprit cooed, assuring Zac that it wasn't human, only a pigeon. He didn't want to be found. He didn't want to go back there.

He couldn't think of one good reason - or even a bad one - why he should leave the musty, comforting sanctuary of the cottage and head back up to the house. He glanced at his watch. One-fifty-three. By this time, he'd be in so much trouble, his life back there wouldn't be worth living anyway. He'd been gone almost twenty one hours, at first wandering around the huge woodland surrounding the house, then later, once Taylor and Gabbie had taken their disgusting, perverted - not to mention almost adulterous - sex games inside, he'd crawled in through the bathroom window of the cottage and curled up on the couch, wishing that his life could be like it used to be, wishing that everything wasn't so damn confusing.

Sighing, he hugged himself, wrapping his arms tightly across his stomach, desperate for the reassurance that there was someone there. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that it was his mom, or an older brother, or Rachelle who was holding him, and if he concentrated really hard, he could almost hear them whispering that everything would be okay. His eyes flew open, scanning the room, confirming the depressing fact that he was completely alone.

The dinginess of the cottage was congruous with his mood. The worn out, stained sofa; the discolored paint on the walls; the cracked hearth surrounding the black, empty coal fire; the splintered plaster on the ceiling… This place was a wreck, Zac concluded. But it had potential. It could be something really beautiful, a quaint weekend cottage, if only someone would pay it some attention. A sick realization dawned on him just then. Zac was the cottage. He knew, deep inside, that he could go back to being the way he had before. The nice, kind, generous, loving, caring Zac, rather than this cold, isolated one that he had become, if only he had the attention. But he differed from the dilapidated cottage, in that the cottage was practically screaming out for help, whereas Zac was pushing everyone who came near him further and further away. In his mind, he imagined the thick, coarse weeds growing in front of the cottage, removing it from civilization forever, and knew that if he didn't change, that would happen to him. But, at that moment, he didn't care.

He was so confused. What had happened between himself and Ollie yesterday? Feeling the tears prickling at the backs of his eyes again, he shut them, refusing to show the weakness yet again. Why had Ollie kissed him? He hadn't even known Ollie was gay, he realized, shaking his head miserably and rolling over to lie on his side. Not that it was the kind of thing you asked, but after the night at the underground club with those two girls, Zac had just assumed that his friend was straight. The fact that he might have been bisexual hadn't even occurred to him. And, he clearly remembered that one of the first things Ollie had ever said to him was an accusation of Taylor being gay, and he hadn't exactly made it sound like a good thing then.

Chewing nervously on his lower lip, Zac wondered if maybe he'd given Ollie some green light to make him think that it would be fine for him to kiss him. WHY had he done it? The thing that Zac felt most uncomfortable with, though, was the fact that, for a millisecond, he had returned the kiss. And, even worse, he hadn't only done it automatically. He had enjoyed it. He could still remember himself shivering deliciously all over his body when their lips met, only for the sensation to be quickly muffled by all the Bible stories he had ever learned screaming at him that this was wrong.

He hated to admit it, but Zac was terrified. Did this mean he was gay? And if it did, did that mean he was going to Hell? But he couldn't be gay. He couldn't be. Libby Reynolds popped into his mind, as he remembered their hot summer kisses, back in 99, and, more recently, Rachelle Owen. He smiled as the image of Rachelle popped into his mind. Sure, he'd been worried about not feeling a connection with her, but it didn't mean that he didn't enjoy making out with her, being with her in any way at all. Rachelle was the best thing to have happened to him lately, he told himself. She was smart, she was kind, she was funny, and it didn't hurt that she was oh-my-god-stop-the-traffic gorgeous, in her own eclectic way. He'd be stupid to end things with her because of a loose connection in his mind. That's probably all that it was. He wasn't gay. He wasn't. He just needed to remind himself of that. And to do that, it meant more time with Rachelle.

A wave of guilt flitted over him briefly, wondering if this counted as 'fuckwittage', in a Bridget Jones kind of fashion - not that he'd ever read the book, of course, but Niamh was always talking about it. Was he using Rachelle to convince himself of his sexuality? No, he decided firmly. He wasn't. He was simply reminding himself of what a great girl she was, and how he should be falling in love with her, rather than thinking about kissing his male friend, when he definitely, positively wasn't gay. Still, an uneasiness crept into his stomach as he thought of the shared kiss between himself and Ollie, bringing more salty droplets to his eyes.

Another crack from outside made him hold his breath. This time, it was heavier. Far too heavy to be a bird. Slowly, a key was slid into the lock and turned.

"Zac?"

As she closed the door gently behind her and crossed the room to the tired old couch, Zac felt another dam bursting inside of him, the rivers flowing freely down his round cheeks.

"Zac? Oh, baby, no." She was lying beside him in a flash, long, thin arms around him, holding him closely, nuzzling her soft cheek against his hot, wet one. "It's okay, it's okay, shh, come on…"

Lying in her arms like a huge bear, Zac snorted and grunted in a desperate attempt to stop the tears, to stop the crying, blushing as he realized how disgusting he must sound to Rachelle. He hated people seeing him like this. He never let anyone see this side of him. Except Rachelle. He had no problem with her seeing the soft side of him. Another reason to concentrate on her wholeheartedly.

Rachelle cuddled him gently, murmuring into his ear, not really making any sense, but hoping that it would comfort him anyway. Finally, when his tears seemed to have subsided a little, she pulled back. "Zac, baby, everyone's so worried about you."

"Sure."

"Really. Ike's frantic, and Ollie, man, he looks like death."

At the mention of Ollie's name, Zac felt the tears of confusion well up again, but forcefully blinked them back. He wouldn't cry again. "What about Taylor?" he eventually choked out.

Rachelle smiled a little. "He's worried."

"As much as Ike?"

"Now he is."

"Not at first?"

"No," admitted Rachelle. "He was mad. But now he's okay."

"I hate him," announced Zac, surprising even himself with his sudden outburst of contempt.

"You don’t," replied Rachelle firmly, closing the subject as Zac admitted in his mind that no, he didn't hate him. "Why did you do it, Zac? Why are you out here?" When Zac didn't provide her with an answer, merely looked at his bitten-down fingernails, she hazarded a guess. "Was it because of our fight?"

Zac had forgotten about the argument he and Rachelle had had the morning before. If he said it was that, then she'd be really nice to him, careful not to piss him off, and that would make him like her even more, therefore, by the laws of equilibrium, forget about Ollie. Ignoring the twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach, he nodded. "It got to me, Shell. You know you're the only person I can…you know…talk to... And I thought you hated me…" He looked down, hoping his acting was convincing.

Not that it was all acting. He did care for Rachelle a great deal. However, this was out-and-out lying. The argument with Rachelle hadn't upset him at all, not even registered as more than a little tiff in his brain.

"Oh, Zac… I'm sorry… I just wanted to spend some time with you, that's all. I didn't mean for you to get so angry and upset with me." She studied her fingernails, biting on her lip. "I'm sorry."

Zac squeezed his eyes shut, feeling all the more guilty for making her feel guilty. "Don't be sorry… I overreacted. I guess it's just everything. Please, don't feel bad."

Rachelle grinned at him, showing her even, white teeth. "Am I forgiven, then?"

On the outside, Zac smiled back, but on the inside, the terrible feeling gnawed at his stomach. She was so sweet… Was this fair? Nonetheless, he pulled her towards him, pushing his lips against hers. "You're forgiven. Of course you're forgiven." Blocking the horrible feeling out completely, he told himself that he wouldn't hurt Rachelle. After all, she would never know what was going on, as he was only using her to prove that he was straight, and once he'd proved it, then he could be with her, and they could be happy. He wasn't being mean. He wasn't. He wasn't. He leaned into her ear, whispering, "Kiss me."

Rachelle giggled. "I'd be glad to," she murmured, sinking forward into his deep, romantic kiss, losing herself in his warm lips, his soulful eyes and his big, soft body.

Concentrating his full attention on the kiss, deliberately blocking everything else - Ollie, his feelings - out of his mind, he pulled Rachelle over, their lips never parting, until she was lying on top of him, his arms clamped tightly around her waist, never wanting to let her go, scared of all the other options that were out there for him.

Before he knew what was happening, Rachelle was kissing further and further down his body, tugging off his shirt and dropping soft kisses on his chest and stomach. He groaned happily, running his fingers through her hair. No way could he be gay. Now, somehow, Rachelle was pushing all the right buttons, and the way he was feeling now made the day before's encounter with Ollie pale into insignificance. What he had felt then had definitely been something, but this… This was definitely something else, something incredible.

Inside, he sighed as Rachelle began working her hands over his torso, wondering why it was that he was so turned on by her now, but before there'd been no chemistry, and, with a sinking feeling, realizing that once they'd stopped this, it would probably be gone again. Damn his stupid hormones. While all this was going on, Ollie's face kept pushing its way into his mind, no matter how hard he tried to shove it out. But it wasn't Ollie making him so excited, so exhilarated. It was Rachelle. Why was he so mixed up?

But Rachelle didn't need to know how he felt. Remembering that he was only proving to himself that he was straight, then planning to stay with her forever - well, probably not forever, he reasoned, marriage was certainly a long way off, but he wasn't planning to dump her once he'd proved himself - he concentrated his mind once again on Rachelle.

But it wasn't only his mind that was concentrating. As Rachelle undid the buttons on his jeans, he felt himself harden, proving, in his mind anyway, that he was definitely, definitely straight. Gay guys didn't become this aroused by girls, he decided, as Rachelle began to kiss along the elastic waistband on his boxer shorts.

"Zac?"

"God, don't stop," he mumbled.

"You're not saying anything," she pointed out. "Are you okay with this?"

Biting his lip, he thought. Okay with what? "Are we gonna…you know?"

"Do you want to?" she asked.

"Do you?"

"I asked you first."

Zac inhaled, his breath shuddering. Did he want to? Somehow, he had always imagined his first time being with the woman he would marry, when he was a little older. That's what being brought up as a Hanson did to you. Saint Ike was living out the idea himself, a twenty-one year old virgin. Tay, on the other hand, had been sixteen, and no one seemed to think any worse of him. Actually, only he and Ike knew, and Ike had been disappointed, but Zac hadn't thought any worse of him. And it wasn't like it was a big deal any more. No one would be able to tell. He wasn't going to suddenly sprout horns; a neon sign flashing I HAD SEX wasn't going to appear above his head. And it would prove that he wasn't gay, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it? Finally, he sighed. "Yeah, I do."

Rachelle smiled. "Glad you're feeling better."

***

"Taylor, for the love of God, would you stop that?!" snapped Isaac.

"What?" Taylor stopped dead, mid-circuit, staring at his brother.

"Walking round the kitchen like a goddamn racehorse in the Grand National! It's not helping, you know."

Sighing, Taylor catapulted his body into a seat at the wooden, butcher-block table. "Sorry. I'm just…" he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. What was he? Worried? Annoyed? A bit of both? He didn't know.

"I know." Isaac reached out and patted his brother's shoulder, a sign of reassurance.

"What do we do?" asked Rhia softly, draping her arms around Isaac's neck and kissing his stubbled cheek; Isaac had been too preoccupied to shave that morning.

Isaac took her hands in his, tugging her around and pulling her down so that she was sitting in his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her, desperately needing the comforting as he nuzzled against her soft, lilac sweater. "It's five o'clock. Should we call the police?"

Gabbie stopped drumming her frosted pink lacquered fingernails on the table, pursing her lips. "How about we search the grounds one last time, then check in with Niamh, Jennie, Jamie and Rachelle on their cellphones, and if they haven't found him in the citiy, then we call the police? It's just a suggestion," she added, suddenly feeling shy and wondering if it was her place to make suggestions, when, primarily her purpose of being there was merely moral support for Taylor.

Isaac lifted his face up, nodding slowly. "I think that's a good idea," he agreed, his voice quiet. He shifted Rhia from his knee and stood up, motioning for everyone else to do the same.

"What if we don't find him?" Taylor suddenly blurted out. "What if the cops can't find him? What if we never see him again?"

Isaac heard the tell-tale catch in Taylor's voice. Shaking his head, he crossed the kitchen to where his younger brother was standing and wrapped him up in his arms, holding him firmly. "Tay… We'll find him."

Looking down, Taylor nodded, gripping Isaac briefly, then backing away, eyes connecting with his, both pairs reflecting insecurity and worry.

Rhia and Gabbie hung back, watching the emotional reassurance the brothers provided for one another with interest. Rhia told herself that she should be used to it by now, having known the Hansons almost forever, but was still invariably amazed by effect they had on one another. A single sign of reassurance from another brother could calm a panicked one down; it was as if they knew that as long as they had each other, no matter how distant, then nothing could be completely awful.

"Okay." Isaac's voice, sounding much more calm and collected than he felt inside, broke the silence. "Rhia, you and I will check the left side; Tay, you and Gabbie take the right."

Everyone nodded.

"Ike?" Taylor spoke up quietly. "How long do we look for?"

"Two hours?" he suggested. "I mean, it's dark already. Past seven, I doubt we'll be any use. Come on, Ree, let's go." He squeezed both Taylor's hands tightly, gave him a smile, making sure he connected with his brother's blue eyes, then exited the kitchen, Rhia following closely behind.

"We should go, too," murmured Gabbie, rubbing Taylor's shoulders.

"Yeah. Come on." Taylor taking Gabbie's hand, they left the glowing warmth of the kitchen, shivering in the chilly night air, teeth chattering with the shock of the temperature change.

"Why don't we check the cottage? I mean, you go there when you need to think. Why didn't we think of that earlier?"

"It's worth a shot," agreed Taylor.

Together, they walked through the large expanse of cold, wet grass, hearing the squishing beneath their shoes. On reaching the cottage, Taylor pushed the door open, tugging Gabbie inside with him.

He scanned the small, living room area, the worn out sofa where he and Gabbie had had their bit pleasure the previous night interesting him in particular. But there was no sign of Zac. He sank down on to the couch, resting his face in his hands, feeling completely useless.

Gabbie sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around him. "Tay…"

"What?" he mumbled, through his hands.

"I don't mean to sound like Nancy Drew, but this sofa's warm. Somebody's been here."

Taylor took his hands away from his face and pressed them into the cushions. "You're right," he muttered. Then he stopped, a piece of paper brushing against his fingers. He tugged it out, examining it closely. "I think maybe two somebodies have been here," he corrected, dryly, holding up the incriminating evidence of a Durex wrapper for Gabbie to see.

Gabbie's eyebrows disappeared into her curly hair. "Whoa."

"Maybe it was ours from last night," suggested Taylor, almost hopefully, unwilling to accept the idea that his little brother might not be so little any more.

Gabbie shook her head, a small smile fleeting across her lips. "Ours were flavored." She licked her lips. "Chocolate and strawberry if I remember correctly."

Taylor blushed, an embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess you would know," he mumbled.

"So, who's been here? Do you think it was Zac?"

"It has to be." Taylor spread his hands. "I mean, Ike and Rhia… They're not…"

"They're not?!" Gabbie asked incredulously. "You're kidding me, right?"

Taylor looked at her surprised face, irritation coursing through his body. "Some people have relationships which aren't based purely on sex, you know," he told her haughtily. "Ike and Rhia just happen to be the most in-love couple I know of. Just because they're both virgins doesn't make them any less human."

Gabbie burst out laughing. "God, Tay, deconstruct the soapbox, please. I just assumed…"

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't!" snapped Taylor. Sighing, he rubbed at his temples. "Sorry, sorry, Gab… It's just this whole thing…"

"It's okay, " she told him, in a tone which clearly told him it was not. "I know that you have the right to be crabby with me whenever you feel like it. After all, you are the most important person in this relationship…"

"What relationship?" challenged Taylor. "Oh, no, forget it," he sighed. "This isn't the time." He looked around the room. "Although it probably is the place," he admitted as an afterthought.

"No, I won't forget it. What do you mean, 'What relationship?'?!"

"Gabbie, my brother is missing. Please, can we do this another time?"

"No! Zac's fine. He's fucking Rachelle somewhere as we speak! Probably upstairs!" Gabbie jumped up, hands on her hips, glaring at Taylor. "What did you mean?"

Taylor bit on his lip, eyes darting upstairs at Gabbie's suggestion. Were Zac and Rachelle upstairs? He glanced back at Gabbie, who was still staring at him. It didn't look like he had a choice but to do this now. He cleared his throat. "Well, you tell me, Gabbie, what kind of relationship do we have? I mean, sure, the sex is great, but does this mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does, Taylor!"

"Do you want to be with me?"

"What?"

"You heard. Do you want to be with me?" He had no idea where this inner strength was coming from, but he would be eternally grateful to whoever had provided it. Maybe this ultimatum definitely needed to be thrown at Gabbie.

"Of course I do. But I can't be."

"Why not?"

"I'm engaged!"

He sighed, looking her straight in the eye. "Either you want me or you don't. You can't have it all, Gab. You have to choose. Me or Mike."

Gabbie stared at him, tears forming in her clear blue eyes. "Don’t do this, Taylor. You mean a lot to me, but Mike's my fiancé. I love you, too."

"You mean you want someone to sleep with while Mike's gone," reiterated Taylor. "You don't love me," he told her, sadly. "I'm just starting to realize just how much I've been kidding myself."

"I do, I do," Gabbie insisted, beginning to cry properly.

"If you want me, you'll leave Mike."

Gabbie looked at him, holding his gaze for a full minute. Then, slowly, she shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I can't, Taylor. Mike is the man I want to marry."

"I think you'd better go."

"No, Taylor, I-"

"GO!" he shouted, looking at the floor.

Sighing, Gabbie stomped out of the cottage, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Now that she was gone, Taylor let his expressionless mask melt into reflecting his feelings, the tears pooling in his eyes. He walked over to the wall and banged his head against it, turning around and sliding miserably downwards until he was sitting on the floor.

How had all this happened? He curled his body over his knees and began to sob, wondering how something which had started out as a rescue mission for Zac had turned into the end of his relationship - or whatever it had been - with Gabbie. Always expected the unexpected, his mom always told him, but that… Well, it had definitely been something he hadn't expected to happen then.

A giggle from upstairs made him snap his head up. Zac was descending the rickety wooden staircase heavily and clumsily, Rachelle perched on his back. "BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!" Zac was intoning in some ridiculous fairytale giant's voice. When he saw Taylor, he stopped abruptly, letting Rachelle slide down to the floor.

Rachelle was first to speak. "Ah, Taylor, we thought you'd gone."

"Evidently so. Tell me, were you two planning to go back to the house now, or just worry the hell out of us for another night?" he asked, wiping angrily at his tears.

"I was taking him back," Rachelle replied quietly. "Are you okay?"

Taylor buried his head back in his folded arms, feeling another rush of tears threatening to spill over. As he feared, they began to stream down his cheeks as he cried, his body trembling. He looked up, his eyes connecting with Zac's, pleading and begging with him. "Zac…"

"What?"

Taylor gulped in some air, his breathing so erratic, he was obviously distraught. "Come here… Please…"

"Why?" asked Zac, ignoring the swift kick he'd just received in the shin from Rachelle.

"I… I need my brother right now…"

"Should I go get Ike?"

Taylor's face crumpled pathetically again, clearly hurt by Zac's coldness. "I need you to be my brother," he whispered.

"I am your brother."

Taylor coughed, still sobbing softly. "If you're really my brother, you'll come now and put your arms around me…" he choked out.

Zac froze. He couldn't hug Taylor. It was obviously what Taylor needed, but Zac wasn't the guy to do it. Part of him wanted to go hold his brother, to tell him that everything would be okay, but another, bigger part of him just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Rachelle nudged him. "Go on, Zac," she urged, pushing him towards the sobbing Taylor.

Taylor looked up at him, eyes begging pathetically. He was obviously desperate for this reassurance, but Zac couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

"I.. I can’t," he choked out himself, spinning on his heel and bolting out the door.

"Zac!" Rachelle looked first at her running boyfriend, then his crying brother, clearly torn between them. Finally, she ran after Zac, screaming after him.

Taylor watched the two of them leave, then rolled over until his was lying on his side on the floor, and cried himself to sleep.

***

"Good morning."

Taylor looked up from the newspaper, startled by the incredibly polite, civilized voice. It was certainly not a tone used in the house much. His heart sinking, he realized it was Gabbie. Of course. Conversation between the two of them over the past few weeks, since the messy breakup in the cottage, had been stilted and awkwardly civil. "Hello," he replied, just as politely.

"How are you?" she asked mildly, slipping into a chair at the breakfast table.

"I'm very well, thanks, and you?"

"Oh, I'm well also."

Behind his own newspaper, Isaac raised his eyebrows, wondering if he'd somehow landed in a 1950s movie, what with all the exaggerated politeness and civility going on around him.

He wasn't entirely sure what was going on between his brother and Kindred Spirit's manager, but he had figured out that whatever had been going on between them, wasn't going on any longer. He'd found Taylor, sound asleep in the cottage, a few weeks earlier - the night they found Zac, if he recalled correctly - his eyes red and swollen, his cheeks tearstained. But Taylor had refused to talk about it, pushing his brother further and further away, which worried Isaac. Taylor was a very tactile person, very much a hugger, believing that an embrace could fix almost anything. But he'd pushed Isaac away, both physically and mentally. Something had definitely been very wrong with him. However, Taylor had plastered on his 'I'm-absolutely-fine' face, so Isaac had let things lie. If Taylor needed to talk to him, then he would.

Zac had also been acting very strangely. He spent a lot of time in his room, claiming to be studying, but his grades were worsening. He had been avoiding everyone - except Rachelle - like the plague, becoming even quieter and more withdrawn. Isaac was at a loss for what to do with his brothers. They were adults now. They had to live their own lives.

Rhia fluttered into the kitchen, singing an old Beach Boys song quietly to herself, dancing as she boiled the kettle to make herself a cup of coffee.

Isaac smiled. Thank God for Rhia. She really was his ray of sunshine, his last grain of sanity in his life. If she hadn't been there, he'd have bet his last cent that he would be stir-crazy by this time, what with the emotional rollercoasters he had for brothers and all the strange, secret goings on.

"Morning!" sang Rhia, kissing Isaac on the cheek and giving Taylor and Gabbie a huge grin.

"Hey, honey," smiled Isaac, kissing her back, wondering how it was humanly possible that Rhia could be so happy when she had all this stuff with her father and Neil going on. But he knew that Rhia didn't dwell on things. She'd acknowledged that she had a problem, but she knew that there was nothing she could do about it right now, so, although, inside it was probably hurting - something she'd talk to him about in private, Isaac was sure - outwardly, she was the same sweet, happy person.

"Hi, Rhia," mumbled Taylor, shoveling some more cornflakes into his mouth, as Rachelle and Niamh wandered in, still looking half asleep.

"Top o' the morning to ya," grinned Niamh, sitting down next to Taylor, as he chuckled, remembering the time when he'd asked Niamh why she didn't say that, as she was Irish. Now, it was a standing joke, along with all other things stereotypically Irish. Niamh would ask for pints of Guinness, pretend to Irish dance whenever she saw him, and she swore blind that there was a leprechaun at the bottom of the garden.

"Hey," everyone mumbled in response.

"Can I ask you something?" she continued, pulling back her soft, auburn curls and securing them with a ponytail holder.

"Sure." Isaac took another sip of his coffee.

"I was wondering… Sure, the schools in Ireland are on holiday for two weeks pretty soon, and I was wondering if my sisters could come and stay here for a week or so. I mean, I won't let them get in the way, and I'd just really like to see them. I miss them."

"How old are they?" asked Taylor, looking interested.

"They're eleven."

"Both of them?" Rhia raised her eyebrows.

"Twins," Niamh explained. "Seonaid and Siobhan."

"Cool! I'm a twin," Rhia told her.

"Really? Identical?"

"No, I have a twin brother."

Niamh smiled. "That's brilliant, that is. Vonne and Naidy are identical."

Isaac cleared his throat. "I don't think it'd be a problem," he mused. "Just as long as you explain to them that the recording studio is out of bounds."

"Oh, sure! Thank you!" Niamh was beaming; she was obviously looking forward to seeing her sisters. "I'm gonna go call them! They'll probably be here in about a week; is that okay?"

Everyone around the table nodded in agreement, and Niamh bounced off down the hallway to call Waterford.

Gabbie was next to clear her throat. "Umm… Just so you guys know… Mike's coming on Wednesday."

Taylor choked, spitting his coffee out onto the table. "What, you-" He stopped, suddenly going into coughing/choking spasms, as a result of the surprise whilst drinking. Isaac hit him gently on the back a few times, then Taylor, having calmed enough to breathe, took a deep, shaky breath. "What, you mean Wednesday, as in the day after tomorrow?"

"No, I mean some Wednesday in September," muttered Gabbie, rolling her eyes.

"Gabbie, that was a fair enough question, considering the fact that you've just given us two days notice." Isaac didn't sound pleased.

"So, are you saying he's not welcome?"

Isaac sighed, wondering why Gabbie felt the need to act like a Jack Russell, pouncing on anything, and snatching it with her teeth, never letting it go. She was so snappy. "I'm not saying that," he began slowly. "I'm just saying that you maybe should've told us a little earlier than this. Especially…" He trailed off, looking at Taylor, who was staring down into his bowl. "Especially with the circumstances."

Taylor raised his eyebrows. Oh, so now he was a circumstance?

Gabbie narrowed her eyes. "Ike, Tay's a big boy now. He can deal with it. And, even if he can’t, he'll just have to. He's got to accept that it's Mike I want. In that way, at least, he's out of my life."

"Yeah, but he's still in the kitchen!" snapped Taylor. "Have you any idea how rude that is?"

"Mr Manners now, are we?"

"Oh, for the love of God… Look, Gabbie, I don't care. I just don't care. You just…" He stopped, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. "You just do whatever the hell it is that you want to do. I'm past caring. Although, if you're gonna screw Mike around as much as you've done with me, then I actually feel a little sorry for the guy." He stared straight at her, deciding not to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he was really uncomfortable having this conversation. "Just don't parade him in front of me; it's something I can live without seeing."

And with that, he pushed back his chair, walking calmly and sedately out of the kitchen and upstairs, before closing the door of his bedroom and hurling a book angrily at the wall.

***

Zac lay on his bed, one arm hooked around Rachelle and she curled up beside him, her head resting on his broad chest, snuggling against the soft shirt he was wearing. "Shell?"

"Hmm?" she murmured contentedly.

"I should be working."

"You don't have to."

"I do. I have an English paper to write."

"It can wait."

"It can't," he insisted. "Ike's mad enough with me."

"He's always mad at you," she mumbled sleepily. She just didn't want to move. Zac was so comfortable to lie against.

"That's Taylor. Look, I wanna just lie here, too, but it's seven-fifteen already, and this has to be done by tomorrow. Come on, do you want to be lying with a juvenile delinquent?"

She laughed. "Okay, okay, I know when I'm not wanted."

"Nobody said you weren't wanted," he grinned. "You're very much wanted here. You just can't really be here. Are you mad?"

She smiled. "Nah. I gotta go see Niamh anyway. She's so excited about her twin sisters coming to stay."

"Are they hot?"

"Hey!" Rachelle punched him in the gut, before dissolving into giggles. "They're eleven."

"Too bad," he smiled. "Anyway, get out of here. Go!"

"Nuh-uh, not without this." She leaned down, pushing her lips against his.

He found himself magnetically pulled upwards, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Just as he was really beginning to enjoy himself, she pulled away. "Shellllll…" he moaned.

"Don't you have work to do?" she teased.

He groaned. "You bitch," he sighed, chucking his pillow at her.

She laughed, pecking him on the lips, and running out of the door.

He laughed behind her, shaking his head and dragging himself off his bed and over to his desk, trying to focus his thoughts on Shakespeare's 'Merchant Of Venice', and the strength of the character of Portia. But he didn't care about Portia and her caskets, or Shylock and his pound of flesh. He stared out of the window, the rain still persistent, lashing against the windows, making him shiver, even though the house was centrally heated and he was anything but cold.

Suddenly, a knock on his door snapped him back to attention. Sighing, he heaved himself heavily out of his chair and dragged his feet over to the door, pulling it open. There was nobody there. Surely everyone in this house was a little old for chap-door-run. Then it caught his eye. A piece of white notepaper, folded crisply in half, with Zac scrawled across it. Shrugging, he picked it up, walked back into his room and sat on his bed, unfolding it and beginning to read.

Zac, we have to talk. Meet me in the cellar at 7:30pm.
Your friend,
Ollie

Zac chewed at his lower lip, debating with himself whether or not he should go down and see Ollie in - he checked his watch - five minutes. Besides Rachelle, Ollie was the only friend he seemed to have here right now, and he didn't want to lose him. But he was scared. Scared that the feelings that had emerged when Ollie had kissed him a few weeks ago would re-emerge.

During the past few weeks, the feelings had remained deeply buried, under a whole load of displays of emotion for Rachelle. Kisses, moonlit walks, long talks. They hadn't slept together again, as Zac's conscience was working overtime due to his reasons for doing it last time. He'd decided firmly that he wouldn't make love to her again until he was sure that he did love her. And that meant vanquishing any remaining feelings for Ollie. Maybe going to see him would be a good idea.

Still, he was terrified. What if he was gay? There wasn't anything wrong with it. And he did have feelings for Ollie; that had suddenly become clear. But Zac had read enough problem pages in Jessica's magazines to know that just because you had feelings for someone of the same sex, it didn't necessarily mean you were homosexual. It just meant you were curious about your sexuality and were maturing as a human being. Didn't it? He moaned softly, pulling his pillow over his face, and suddenly wishing that he was eleven again, when he'd thought girls were stupid, when he didn't really know it was possible to love a guy that you weren't related to, not to mention when he'd gotten along great with his brothers. Everything had been so much simpler when he was eleven.

He glanced at his watch, noting that it was already 7:31pm. Squeezing his eyes tight shut, and praying to God that he had made the right decision, he threw down his pen and raced out of the room, down the stairs, through the kitchen and down the cold, concrete steps into the cellar, where Ollie was perched on the edge of the washing machine.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"I wasn't going to."

"I see." Ollie looked down at his hands, chewing nervously on his bottom lip, his floppy brown fringe falling over his eyes. He looked up at Zac through his hair, noting that the younger boy looked terrified. "We have to talk about this, Zac."

Zac tried his best not to look at Ollie. When he was squinting at him through his hair, he looked pretty cute. Feeling sick and angry with himself for even thinking that, Zac lowered himself down until he felt his backside make contact with the chilled, hard step. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "I think we do."

Neither of them said anything for a while, both of them staring at the floor, too embarrassed to look at one another. Finally, Zac broke the silence. "Ollie…are you gay?"

Ollie smiled awkwardly, seeming to be deep in thought. "I don't know," he eventually answered.

"You don't know?" Zac repeated, confused. How could you not know? As far as he was concerned, you were either gay, bisexual or straight.

"No, I don't know. I didn't think so. Until I met you."

"So I made you gay?" asked Zac incredulously, his voice rising.

"Shh!" hissed Ollie. "What I mean is… You're the first guy I've ever liked, Zac. When I first met you, I thought you were cool and everything…and we were mates…"

"I wish you wouldn't use that word," groaned Zac. "In context, I think it's the wrong choice."

Ollie looked at him sharply, but continued. "Okay, we were friends. But then I started to feel more and more for you. I mean, you're a great guy, Zac. You're bloody brilliant. And, I dunno… I just…liked you… A lot. And I thought I was getting vibes from you."

"You weren't," replied Zac bluntly.

"Are you sure?"

Zac fell silent. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure at all. Had he been sending positive vibes to Ollie without even realizing? Quietly, he asked, "Is that why you kissed me? Because I was sending out vibes?"

Ollie's face softened, as he realized that Zac was as scared about this whole thing as he was. He wasn't exactly experienced either, Ollie had to keep that in mind. Remembering that Zac had asked him a question, he took a deep breath. "I guess so," he confessed. "You were so sad, Zac. I just wanted to make it all better. And I know that I shouldn't have done it. It just confused you all the more. I'm so sorry. But I guess the emotion just carried me away."

"You shouldn't have done it," Zac agreed. "But it's okay."

"It is?"

"Yeah. I mean, we're not always in control of what we do. That's something that Ike's always telling Tay. Usually because it's Tay who gets himself into messes like this. Not me."

Ollie pushed back his hair. "Is this a mess?"

Zac exhale slowly. "I really don't know what this is, Ol."

"Me neither. But, Zac… I dunno, maybe I was imagining this, and all you have to do is tell me that its in my head, and I'll leave you alone forever, but… I'm sure you kissed me back." He quickly looked away, hoping that Zac wouldn't explode. It was something that had been on Ollie's mind ever since that afternoon. He just had to know.

Zac gulped. He'd been given a way out. All he had to do was tell Ollie that he had imagined it, and all this would be over. But Ollie hadn’t imagined it. And now, sitting here with Ollie, Zac wasn't at all sure that he wanted this to be over. Praying to God again, he whispered, "You didn’t imagine it." He gulped. "I kinda liked it."

He wanted to slap himself for saying that. It wasn't helping things with he and Rachelle! And it meant that he was being a total asshole and using her, and it meant that he was admitting that he might be gay. Why, oh why, had his mother instilled such good truth genes into him?

"Oh." Ollie had been so sure that Zac would say he had imagined it, that he had no idea how to respond.

Zac didn't have a clue what to say, either.

Finally, Ollie pushed himself off his washing machine perch and crossed the stone floor to where Zac was sitting.

Zac eyed him warily, unsure as to what he was doing, and hoping that he wasn't going to leave with the issue unresolved. They'd admitted that there was something between them, but what now? It was awkward, to say the least.

"Zac?"

He looked up, Ollie's shaking voice having broken into his reverie.

"Can I…" Ollie looked away, his cheeks reddening.

"Come on," Zac encouraged him, his heart going out to Ollie, the shyness evoking sympathy and God only knew what else inside of him.

"Can I hug you?" he blurted out, feeling like a six-year-old.

Zac bit on his lip. He was on a precipice, at a crossroads. If he said no, then he could wander down the safe conventional road, continue the great relationship with Rachelle and lose Ollie as a friend. Or, he could say yes, start a new, terrifying relationship with Ollie - a relationship which had a lot more feeling in it than the one with Rachelle - and hopefully explain things to her, keep her as a wonderful friend. The choice was pretty obvious, but Zac was scared. He looked up at Ollie. He was obviously just as scared. Maybe entering into this was what he needed to do. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and wrapped his arms around Ollie's skinny body, closing his eyes and wondering if he'd done the right thing.

Ollie complied with the embrace, clamping his arms around Zac's waist, so much bigger than his own pathetic excuse for a body, a million different emotions mixing inside of him.

The same emotions that were mixing inside of Zac. Fear, with excitement, with guilt. It was all too much. He unfastened himself and pulled away from Ollie's grip.

But Ollie shook his head, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Zac's. Zac pushed away the guilty feeling - something he seemed to be becoming very good at doing - and kissed back, thinking about it this time. It was completely different to when he kissed Rachelle. She was forceful and dominating, kissing hard and hungrily. Ollie was softer, more uncertain. His lips seemed to tickle against Zac's, making him all the more tempting and alluring. Both of them were scared, both of them needed the other, and both of them were equal.

But it was Zac who pulled away again. "Rachelle," he whispered. "We're kinda…sort of…together…I think."

"You think?"

"I dunno… She's not my girlfriend. Or maybe she is. We've never said. But we're together."

"We can stop this now. Do you want to?" asked Ollie gently, sitting down on the step and taking Zac's hand in his.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Zac rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

"I have a suggestion," spoke up Ollie, still uncertain. "How about we do this in secret for a while? I mean, my guess is that we're not comfortable with anyone else knowing about this yet, and it'll give you time to see whether Shell's working for you or not."

"I dunno…" Zac squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of the secret relationship he'd had with Libby Reynolds. He took a deep breath, and told Ollie all about it, finishing with how bad he'd felt when Corey had been killed.

"This is different," Ollie told him when he had finished the story.

"How?"

"Well, this time, you're Corey. But you know what you're doing. It's different, Zac. But I think we really have to do this, otherwise we'll end up so confused."

Zac sighed again. "You're right. We'll end up with the what-ifs and the if onlys and it'll be a big mess…" His tone suddenly turned serious, business-like. "But this has to be a total secret. Total secret. No meaningful glances or anything unless we're totally alone."

Ollie nodded, his face serious. "No one will know. Especially not Rachelle. We don't want to hurt her, because even I think she's a pretty cool chick."

"Yeah, she is," Zac agreed.

"But what she doesn't know can't hurt her, right?"

Zac nodded. "Right," he replied, hoping that, inside, he was as certain as he sounded on the outside.

***

Tuesday night, Taylor climbed the stairs to the room on the third floor, quietly shutting the door behind him and hoisting himself up onto the high window-seat, pulling his legs tightly against his chest and resting his chin on them. Sighing, he gazed outside the window, watching as two little kids were dragged down the street by a tired-looking mother; he could tell she was scolding them by the wagging finger and the cross expression on her face. The dull, yellow light cast by the lampposts illuminated them and the surroundings eerily in the cold darkness, making the frost glitter on the sidewalks like sprinkled salt.

He looked down at the cordless phone in his hand, debating whether or not to call Tulsa. He hated to admit it, but he was homesick here. His heart felt empty, aching and sad with loneliness. He longed to talk to Ike about it, but, at the same time, dreaded it.

He was a living oxymoron, basically.

Rolling his eyes at his own patheticness, he punched in the numbers and waited as he heard the connection being established, then the far-off ringing - the long, single rings, separated by long pauses, so different to the snappy double-ring of the English telephones. Nothing was the same here. The phones rang differently, they drove on opposite sides of the road, they spelled words with extra 'U's and replaced 'Z's with 'S's, Frosted Flakes were called Frosties-

"Hello?" The voice cut into his mental list of differences.

"Jess?"

"Tay!"

He grinned, glad that someone, at least, was glad to hear from him. "Hey, honey. How's tricks?"

"I'm good," she told him, her happy tone of voice allowing him to picture her, with her long, shiny blonde hair and a big smile. "How are you? How're Ike and Zac? How's England? How's everything?!"

He laughed, the tension in his body beginning to ebb away. "I'm okay. I really miss you guys, though."

"We miss you too. Zoë was talking about you yesterday."

"What did she say?" asked Taylor, leaning his head comfortably against the cool glass of the window.

"She wanted you to sing to her. 'Sweet Baby James', she asked for." Jessica giggled. "So I tried to sing it for her."

"And?"

"She cried."

Taylor chuckled. "You have a good voice, Jess."

"She wanted you, though. Anyway, how's Dumb and Dumbest?"

"Ike's okay. He's really enjoying making the album. He's way into it, a lot more than the rest of us."

"And Zac?" asked Jessica quietly.

Taylor sighed. "He'll be okay, Jess. I dunno. We’re not speaking much. But he's hooked up with the drummer of Kindred Spirit. At least someone can make him happy."

"Don't let him get to you, Taylor."

"I'm not."

"And don't lie to me either," she added, her voice gently chiding. "I know when you're sad, and believe me, that is one hell of a sad voice you have right now."

Taylor drew in a deep, shaky breath. "I guess I just wish I knew how to fix him," he admitted sadly. "I feel kinda useless."

"He's the useless one," protested Jessica harshly. "Stupid fat ass."

"Jess, he's your brother."

"And when was the last time he bothered to call us?"

"He's got stuff on his mind."

"Shame he doesn't have any stuff in his mind," she muttered.

Taylor was shocked into silence, then he burst out laughing, his little sister following suit. "See," she giggled. "I knew I could make you laugh again!"

"Jess, this is costing a lot… I should go soon, so can you put Mom or Dad on?"

"They're not here," she replied. "Only me and Zo are at home. Mom and Dad took Avie and Mac to see some movie."

"Oh, sounds fun. I guess I'll have to call again some other time."

"Taylor, I miss you," she blurted out, her voice breaking. "When are you guys coming back?"

Taylor swallowed. "Soon, Jess. Soon. In a month or two."

"That's not soon," she argued. "Can I come visit you? Can I come when Dad comes out?"

Taylor raised his eyebrows. The thought had never crossed his mind for the rest of the family to come join them. They weren't a part of HITZ Records. "That would be awesome. But you'd have to ask Dad."

"Yeah.. Hey… Zoë wants to speak, so I guess I'll say goodbye."

"I'll talk to you soon, Jessie!"

"I love you, Taylor," she told him, the smile back in her voice.

"I love you, Jessica," he replied. "Now, put Zoë on."

"Okay, bye!" There was a muffled noise as the phone was passed to the youngest member of the Hanson family, then a high, childish voice flowed through the phone. "Hi, Tay-Tay!"

Taylor grinned. "Hey, Zo-Zo… What’s up?"

"Nothing," she replied, shyly. "Tay-Tay, sing the Baby James song to me."

Taylor laughed. "You like that one, huh?"

"Yeah. Now sing, please," she requested.

He shook his head, smiling to himself as he cleared his throat. "There is a young cowboy, who lives on the range, his horse and his cattle are his only companions, he works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons, waiting for summer, his pastures to change…"

He didn't notice someone slip around the door and stand, with their arms folded, watching him sing into the receiver.

"And as the moon rises, he sits by the fire, thinking about women and glasses of beer, and he closes his eyes…"

"Tay, Jess says I have to go." Zoë cut into the song.

"Okay, Zoë."

"Thank you for singing to me," she giggled.

"Can I have a kiss?" he asked, listening as the noise of his sister's lips making contact with the phone flowed across the countries.

"Now you kiss."

Shaking his head, Taylor kissed the phone loudly, knowing that Zoë had heard it when her high-pitched giggle blasted out of the other end.

"Bye, Tay-Tay!" she called, and he could hear Jessica yelling the same in the background.

He laughed, wishing with all his heart that he was there with them. "Bye!" he sang into the phone, listening as the click sounded, telling him that the connection was dead.

"How are they?"

The voice made him jump, and he turned around to see Isaac leaning casually against the wall. "God, Ike, do you have some sort of teleporting powers?" he asked, trying to regain his composure.

Isaac laughed. "I'm just graceful," he joked, attempting to pirouette unsuccessfully across the room, crashing into the opposite wall. Laughing, he joined Taylor at the window, hugging his own legs to his chest and facing his brother. "So, how are things at home? That's who you were talking to, right?"

Taylor nodded. "Only Jess and Zoë were home. Everyone else went to see a movie. They're good. They miss us. Jess wants to come out here with Dad."

"Really?" Isaac looked surprised. "I never thought she'd want to."

"Me either." Taylor shrugged. "I guess she really misses us."

Isaac smiled wistfully. "It'd be great to see her though, wouldn't it?"

"Well, Clarke Isaac Hanson, ah do believe you're homesick," teased Taylor, putting on a terrible exaggeration of a Southern accent.

He held up his hands. "Guilty as charged. And are you trying to claim that you're not?"

Taylor shook his head. "No way. I want my mommy," he laughed.

"Yeah, me too."

"When can we go home?" Taylor asked, uncomfortably aware that he was whining.

"I dunno…" mused Isaac. "I mean, we live on our own schedule, but it would make sense to try and get some more work here done first."

"I know," sighed Taylor. "I just… I thought this would be cool… But nothing's going right."

"Are you upset about tomorrow?" asked Isaac bluntly. There was no point in beating around the bush. Mike The Fiancé was coming the next day.

Taylor's eyes closed slowly. "Yeah," he finally admitted. "Do you think it would be acceptable to remain in my room?"

Isaac chuckled slightly at his brother's formal tone. "No, it would not," he told him, mimicking him. "Tay, what’s worrying you?"

His brother sighed heavily, stretching out his right leg so it was pushing against Isaac's foot, as if to keep a barrier subconsciously between them. "I know what happened last time I saw them together."

Isaac's face hardened. He remembered what had happened then, too. He recalled returning to the spot where he'd left Taylor in New York City, while he'd gone to look at a Christmas gift in the window, to find his little brother with tears sliding down his cheeks, his glazed-over eyes focussed on Gabbie and Mike, who'd been kissing passionately.

"I'm scared I can't handle it," Taylor confessed.

Now it was Isaac's turn to sigh. "Tay, you have to hold your head up high, remember that you don't need Gabbie, and that you're a million times better than this Mike."

"You've never met Mike," Taylor pointed out dully. "How do you know I'm a million times better than him?"

Isaac smiled. "Because I know you. You're a million times better than most people, Taylor," he said quietly. "And I don't think you realize that."

Taylor stared at Isaac, his blue eyes wide as it dawned on him what an incredibly nice thing his brother had just said to him. He was lucky to have such a great older brother, he realized, looking at the lanky young man sitting in front of him. Smiling, he reached out and hugged Isaac. "Thank you," he murmured.

Isaac laughed, patting him on the back. "And besides, of course you're great. You are my little brother, after all!" he giggled, ducking to avoid the flying cushions that were headed his way.

***

"Come on!"

Isaac snapped to attention to see Rhia's smiling face peering through the open window. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "Sorry," he muttered, snapping off his safety belt and pushing open the car door. "How did we manage to get roped into this anyway?" he grumbled, shooting a resentful look at Gabbie, who was obliviously bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, craning her neck to the sky, to see if she could see any incoming planes.

Rhia shook her head, taking his hand and linking her fingers through his. "Because you're such a wonderful guy," she told him, kissing him softly. "And you wanted to help out a friend."

"And wreck my brother," Isaac added darkly.

"Tay'll be fine," Rhia promised him. "And he said he doesn't mind you picking Mike up."

"I know. I can't help feeling like I'm betraying him or something though."

Rhia chuckled. "Ike, can you say 'over dramatic'?" she teased.

Isaac smiled sheepishly. "I guess you're right," he admitted. "Sorry."

"Hey, as long as you remember me when you get your Oscar." Rhia grinned, poking him in the stomach. "Cause you're headed on the right track, Mister."

Isaac held up his free hand in mock-surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm a drama queen."

"Come on!" Gabbie suddenly appeared next to them, whining painfully. "The plane's already landed!"

"How do you know that?" asked Isaac, leading the way to the main terminal of Heathrow airport.

"I overheard someone saying it. And it'd make sense. Come on, come on, faster!!!" She grabbed Rhia's other arm and dragged them across the parking lot at breakneck speed, tugging them into the building and checking the Arrivals board. "Gate 19!" she yelped. "It's right there, come on, come on, come on!!"

Rhia and Isaac exchanged wry glances as Gabbie steamed away from them, through the heaving crowds of people towards the sign for Gate 19.

"I've never seen her like that before," mused Rhia, trying not to laugh.

"I don't want to see her like that again," mumbled Isaac. "She's like friggin' Tigger on acid."

"And that's Tiggerific!" blurted out Rhia, in a near-perfect Tigger impression.

"Oh, man," groaned Isaac. "Please don't, Ree… Not here.. Not in public!"

Rhia grinned evilly, her eyes sparkling, beginning to sing quietly in Isaac's ear. "There's nothing the matter with Tiggers…"

"Rhia…"

"Cause Tiggers are wonderful things…"

"Stop!"

"Their tops are made out of rubber…"

Suddenly, he clapped his hand over her mouth, silencing her abruptly. "I said stop!" he chuckled, releasing her.

Rhia shrugged. "Fine. You know, I'm sure you're not the only one with a Tigger phobia."

"I do NOT have a Tigger phobia!" exclaimed Isaac indignantly. "I just happen to find him annoying."

She patted his arm condescendingly. "Of course you do, honey, of course you do."

"Rhia, I-"

"OVER HERE!!"

He was cut off by Gabbie hollering from underneath a sign advertising Silkcut cigarettes.

"I'm glad I saw you," Gabbie babbled. "I was worried about losing our ride home! Then how would we get back to Berkshire, I mean…"

Rhia moaned softly, leaning her head against Isaac's chest, feeling him kiss the tip of her ear, letting Gabbie's mindless chatter gurgle over her. She didn't normally find Gabbie annoying. In fact, she quite liked her. But today it had become very, very evident that when Gabriella Young got excited, there was no shutting her up, and no chance of any sense coming out of her.

Suddenly, Gabbie sprang forward like a woman possessed, screaming, "MIKE!!!!" She bolted, somehow dodging the heaving crowds effortlessly, throwing herself into the arms of a tall, dark-haired guy - the stereotypical hero, Isaac noted bitterly, watching the passionate reunion and thanking God that Taylor couldn't see it.

As if sensing what he was thinking, Rhia slipped her hand into his, squeezing it tightly. "You okay?" she murmured.

"I hate him," hissed Isaac. "I don't know him, and I hate him. Look at him…he looks like a guy from the Sears catalog."

Rhia chuckled. "It's okay to hate him in secret. But be nice. He hasn't done anything to you."

"You mean besides emotionally shattering my brother?"

"That wasn't his fault," Rhia reminded him gently. "That was Gabbie. All Gabbie."

Isaac sighed. "I know. But Gabbie's so much easier to forgive. Mainly because I knew her, and liked her. But this Mike guy…"

Rhia rubbed his back soothingly. "Shh, they're coming."

Gabbie bounced back over to them, smiling radiantly, looking so happy that Isaac thought he might throw up, tugging Mike behind her. "Isaac, Rhia, I'd like you to meet Michael Clarkson, my wonderful, amazing, gorgeous, fantastic fiancé," she gushed, either ignoring or missing Isaac's eye-roll and Rhia's bemused stare.

Mike grinned, lowering his eyes in fake modesty, extending his hand. As Isaac and Rhia shook it, Gabbie continued with the introductions.

"And, Mike, honey, this is Isaac Hanson and Rhiannon Davidson. Ike runs HITZ Records, and Rhia is his girlfriend!"

"Pleased to meet you," smiled Mike, in the kind of smooth, movie star voice that made Isaac's stomach churn even harder. This phony was the guy that Gabbie had left his brother for? Was she insane?

"Yeah, you too," he lied through his teeth, clenching his fists.

Rhia nudged him. "Give him a chance," she reminded him, under her breath.

Realizing that she was right, Isaac took a deep breath. "So, how was your flight?" he asked, as he picked up Mike's suitcase and the foursome began to walk back out to the parking lot.

"Oh, it was fine," Mike told him breezily. "I mean, it was long. Really long. But, hey, as long as I have my sweetie waiting for me at the end of it," he cooed, making disgusting goo-goo eyes at Gabbie and kissing her on the tip of her nose.

Rhia smothered a giggle, disguising it by giving Mike a huge, beatific grin.

They reached the car, and Isaac heaved the suitcase into the trunk, then unlocked the car, himself and Rhia climbing into the front, and the newly reunited couple sliding into the backseat.

"So, Gabbie tells me there's a lot of people living in this house," Mike spoke up, loosening the knot in his Simpsons tie.

"You could say that, yes," replied Isaac, concentrating on guiding the car out of the crowded parking lot.

"Tell me about them." The way Mike said it, it wasn't a request; it was an order.

"You do the honors, Ree," muttered Isaac. "The London traffic's hard enough for me to figure out without giving him a character analysis of everyone in our house."

Rhia shook her head, then twisted round in her seat, so she could see Mike. "Okay. I think we'd better warn you about some of them, anyway," she joked, being rewarded with a display of Mike's huge, white Osmond teeth. Taking a deep breath, she began to speak. "Right. We'll start with Kindred Spirit. That's the band."

"He knows," interjected Gabbie. "I do tell him some things, you know."

"Sorry." Rhia crossed her eyes in the mirror at Isaac. "Well, you know Gabbie, obviously, and then there's Jamie. She's like the boss. Scarily funny, but her tongue's so sharp it can disembowel you at the slightest notice."

"Yeah, she's a spitfire," agreed Isaac, switching lanes on the motorway. "But she's awesome, once you learn how to handle the sarcasm."

Looking slightly annoyed, Rhia continued with the character sketching. "Then there's Rachelle, Gabbie's cousin, the drummer. She's really nice. Has a bit of a thing going with Zac, but we'll get to him later. Then we've got Niamh."

"Knee?" Mike's eyebrows raised.

"No, Niamh," Rhia repeated, remembering when she made the same mistake. "She's Irish, and she's just the sweetest thing. She's got twin sisters. They're coming to stay with us next week sometime. Then, there's Jennie." She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, man, Jennie… She's just so spaced out, it's funny. But she's really nice, she wouldn't hurt a fly. And, although you get sick of explaining things to her twenty times, it's kinda endearing."

"And it's funny when Jamie gets pissed with her," added Gabbie.

"Oh, yeah!" agreed Rhia. "Now, that is funny."

Mike merely smiled, his eyes connecting with Isaac's in the rearview mirror, giving him a hard stare that made Isaac look away, and dislike him further. "Any other males in the house?" he asked. "Or is it just me and Spike here?"

"Uh, it's Isaac, actually," Isaac corrected him.

"Oh, sorry, I must have misheard," lied Mike smoothly, ignoring the dig in the ribs that Gabbie was inflicting on him.

"Well, there's Ollie," continued Rhia. "He's kinda like the odd-job guy. He like fixes the speakers, and the sound and makes tea and stuff, and keeps us entertained. He's a nice guy. We met him when Zac hid him in the basement."

Mike looked confused, but didn't ask any questions.

"Then," Rhia carried on, "there're Ike's brothers, Zac and Taylor. Zac's…going through something right now. He's not very talkative, and when he does, he bites your head off. Is that fair to say, Ike?" she asked, looking up at him uncertainly.

"Yeah, I guess. He's a nice guy. A great guy, in fact, usually. But he's kinda…upset right now. So, just…if he says anything to you, don't take it to heart."

Rhia cleared her throat. "Then, there's Taylor," she said quietly.

"I think I met him already," muttered Mike bitterly. "Jumped up little punk. Trying to hurt Gabbie. Yeah, I think I'll be having words with him."

Isaac slammed on the breaks, pulling abruptly into a lay-by. "You'll do nothing of the sort," he spat out, icily. "Tay's never, ever done anything to you. He didn't know you even existed, and if you dare go anywhere near him…" he trailed off, his voice trembling in anger.

Gabbie laid a hand on Mike's arm. "He won't. You won't touch him, Mike. We're going to have a great time, and we're not going to even think about Taylor."

Isaac watched in the mirror as Mike settled back into his seat, the distasteful look still masking his face. The knot of dislike for this guy tightened even further in his stomach, as his knuckles turned white due to his clenching of the steering wheel, mixed emotions pulsating through his body. He didn't like Gabbie's boyfriend. He was worried about Taylor. He didn't want Mike in the house. But there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it, except hope and pray that Taylor could find the strength to handle this jerk.

Chapter Eight
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