Page 36 of Tainted Love

“I know,” I reply sincerely. “Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘Michael’?”

She quirks an eyebrow at me curiously. “Why would I? It’s your name.”

“My friends call me Taz,” I explain with a shrug.

She considers this for a moment before responding, “Well then, maybe one day when we become friends, I’ll use that nickname too.”

Chapter 16

“The Promise”

Sascha - Age 18, 1988

My sleep was fitful at best. My body was restless after consuming both a belly full of casserole and Michael Tazman’s secrets. I tossed and turned for hours, unable to shake off the images of what he was packing under his hockey uniform. That’s not something I’ll be forgetting anytime soon.

What a damn day.

I give up trying to sleep at the ungodly hour of 7:00 am, which is way too early for a lazy Sunday morning. After begrudgingly throwing on a baggy sweatshirt, I stumble downstairs to hear voices and the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

I’m not surprised by the noise; my parents have always been early risers. But what greets me in the kitchen leaves me stunned. It’s not just my parents sitting around the table, sipping their steaming cups of coffee and discussing their plans for the day.

It’s my parents, perched on stools at the counter, leaning in eagerly and giggling like school kids as Michael regales them with tales of epic hockey games from his past and expertly flips scrambled eggs in a pan.

I stand frozen in the entryway, my jaw practically touching the floor as I take in this unexpected scene. Finally, Michael turns and acknowledges me with a warm smile. “Good morning, Sascha,” he says sweetly. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Okay, what is this? What’s happening here?” I demand, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. Michael can’t possibly be cooking.

He shrugs, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just making breakfast.”

“You cook?” I blurt out.

“I do,” he confirms with a proud smile as he scoops scrambled eggs onto two plates for my parents. Meanwhile, the toaster dings, signaling that the toast is ready. “My grandmother taught me everything I know,” he adds fondly, his eyes glimmering with memories.

I can’t help but smile as I watch him from across the room, his eyes shining with adoration as he talks about her. It’s clear that she holds a special place in his heart, and the fact that she taught him to cook adds to the significance of their relationship. He’s even sharing his skill with my parents, and I can’t help but feel touched by his gesture.

Despite all of this, I know I can’t let him see how much it means to me. He may be acting differently now, but we both know he still runs with the beautiful, popular people, most of whom don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves. I can’t forget how they’ve treated people like myself and my friends in the past.

There are exceptions, like Landry, who has always been cool, and Corey, who isn’t so bad. But for the most part, the rest of them are just plain assholes. And don’t get me started on the girls they associate themselves with—some of the worst people on the planet.

They haven’t made life easy on Ivy. And with that one simple thought, my frosty exterior returns instantly like a protective shield against Michael’s presence. Good. This feels much more comfortable.

I casually brush past him and pour the last cup of coffee from the pot, adding a splash of milk before retreating to my spot at the edge of the kitchen. I might need a quick getaway from this crazy situation.

My mother’s voice breaks the silence. “So, what are your plans for today, Bug?”

“Yeah, Bug,” Michael says, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully and attempting to stifle a laugh. “What are you doing today?”

I narrow my eyes at him and hold my stare while I answer my mom’s question. “Not much. I slept poorly last night, so I thought I’d chill out today.”

“That sounds nice,” she replies. “What about you, Michael?”

“I thought I’d go visit my grandmother,” he says. Good. He’ll be gone today and I can relax in peace.

“I don’t want you driving that far by yourself yet,” Dad says. “Just the short drive here yesterday made me nervous. You took a fairly substantial hit to the head, kid.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says reassuringly.

“Still, I’d feel better if you didn’t drive.”