Is It Too Late?: Chapter 1
Written: June - July 2010
Status: Completed
Starring: Taylor
Number of Chapters: 7 + prologue and epilogue
Super star Taylor Hanson had it all: fame, fortune, good looks and any woman he wanted. But he wasn't happy. One night after drinking, he passes out and wakes up a husband and a father in the town he grew up in. Lost in some world between real and imaginary, Taylor is forced to decide which world he wants to be a part of. But will it be too late by the time he figures out what he really wants?
Chapter 1
Saturday: 2:30pm
His head hurt. Not the normal hung over ache he expected to have. His head was the only thing that hurt. It felt like he had been hit in the head with something. He tried to recall what he had done last night, but it was all a blur.
“MOMMY! MOMMY!” He winced as a child’s scream pierced his eardrums. “HURRY!”
“I’m here, Jordy,” his ears perked at the sound of a woman’s voice on the edge of panic. He knew that voice. How did he know that voice? “Taylor? Taylor? Can you hear me?”
“Is he dead?” He heard the child whimper. “I didn’t mean to hit him in the head with the baseball, I promise.”
So he was hit in the head. But how had that happened? He didn’t like baseball. Nor did he enjoy being around kids. He opened his mouth to say something, but the female voice started talking.
“Oh Jordy, I know baby,” the child’s mother replied. “Daddy knows that too. Run inside and get some ice for daddy.”
Daddy? His mind roared. This chick was delusional if she thought that he was the father of her child. There was no way any of his little swimmers had gotten her pregnant. He was always careful.
“Taylor, please wake up,” he heard her quiet plea. “Please, please open your eyes.”
Wanting to set the woman straight, Taylor attempted to open his eyes, but snapped them shut because of the brightness. Where the hell was he?
“Come on, Tay,” the woman encouraged. Once again he recognized her voice, but couldn’t place it.
He forced his eyes open and tried to focus, but everything was too blurry. All he could see was the bright light-was it the sun?-and a blur of a woman’s face hovering over him. He unsuccessfully willed his eyes to focus so he could figure out who she was.
“Oh thank god,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “You had me worried for a second.”
Taylor opened his mouth to speak, but clamped his mouth shut as he heard the child running towards them yelling that they had gotten an ice pack. He needed to find out who this crazy woman was and tell her there was no way in hell he was her baby daddy. All he needed to do was sit up and get his bearings.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said pushing him back down on what he now recognized as grass-had he really fallen asleep outside?-when he tried to sit up. Then he winced when she put the cold ice pack on his forehead.
As his vision began to clear, the first thing he noticed about the woman, whose back was turned to him, was her blonde hair. He had to be dreaming. No. He was having a nightmare. He must have mixed too many types of alcohol together last night. There was no other explanation for the situation he found himself in. The whole baseball thing was his first clue. The having a “kid” thing was the second one. But the blonde woman was the biggest clue. He didn’t bother with blondes; it was a well-known fact in Hollywood. All because of the one girl who had given him an ultimatum: it was her or music.
“Is daddy ok?” He heard the child ask for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“He’s going to have a bruise, but he’ll be ok,” the woman replied her back still towards him. “I bet you if you asked nicely, daddy would show you his owie.”
“Can I daddy?” The child asked, suddenly appearing close enough that Taylor could see he was a blonde, shaggy haired boy of seven or eight. “Please?”
“DADDY!” A shrill scream broke up the moment before Taylor could tell the boy he wasn’t his father. Taylor let out a grunt as he felt a child land on his chest and found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes nearly the same color as his own. If the little girl hadn’t knocked the wind out of him when she landed on him, the color of her eyes would have.
“Chrissy!” The woman scolded, pulling the girl off of his chest. “Daddy’s hurt, you can’t climb all over him.”
Then the woman moved into his line of clear vision and his heart stopped. It was Tabitha. The blonde. The woman who had given him an ultimatum, forcing him choose between his two loves: her and his music.
“T- Tabi?” He stammered; he was more confused now than ever, which only added to the pain of his pounding headache. “Where am I? What’s going on?”
“Jordy, take Chrissy inside and get the big pillow from mommy and daddy’s bed,” Tabitha instructed. “I’m going to help daddy inside.”
She spoke in a tone that he had heard so many times before. How had he not picked up on who she was through her voice? Because it’s been eight years, his brain suggested.
“Tabi, answer me,” Taylor demanded once the kids had moved out of sight.
“You and Jordan were playing baseball,” she explained. “Apparently, he hit the ball off the tee and it hit you in the head.” An amused smile replaced the worried one she had been sporting. “You’re going to have a sweet bruise.”
Despite his brain ordering his heart to remain cold to her, his heart fluttered ever so faintly as she brushed her hand over the sore spot on his head.
“Come on, let’s get you inside,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to help you to your feet, but let me know if I’m going too fast for you.”
Taylor remained silent as she helped hoist him to his feet then slightly stumbled backwards, but she caught him.
“Wow, he got you really good,” she said, placing her hand on the small of his back. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
She led him across the lawn and up to the porch of a white, two-story house he didn’t recognize, which only added to his confusion. The kids sat quietly in the living room, though Taylor doubted that would last long, as she navigated him to a large, brown sofa.
“You lay down and rest while I get you some pain reliever and call the doctor,” Tabitha instructed after helping him sit down on the couch. She turned to the kids and with a finger pointed at them said, “You two come with me, daddy needs to rest.”
Even though he wanted to get up and run from the house, the ache in his head wouldn’t allow it. He followed her orders and stretched on the couch, finding it surprisingly comfortable. He lifted his left hand to feel the sore spot on his forehead, but stopped when he saw a gold band around his ring finger, obviously another clue that he was dreaming.
Enough was enough. It was time to wake up from this nightmare, he decided. Using his left hand, he pinched his right forearm.
“Ow. Fuck,” he groaned as he rubbed the quickly bruising skin.
You weren’t supposed to feel pain in dreams, right? So if he could feel the pinch and the headache caused by the baseball, did that mean he wasn’t dreaming? And if he wasn’t dreaming, then what hell-on-earth alternate world had he found himself in and how the fuck did he get out of it?
Masterpost
Status: Completed
Starring: Taylor
Number of Chapters: 7 + prologue and epilogue
Super star Taylor Hanson had it all: fame, fortune, good looks and any woman he wanted. But he wasn't happy. One night after drinking, he passes out and wakes up a husband and a father in the town he grew up in. Lost in some world between real and imaginary, Taylor is forced to decide which world he wants to be a part of. But will it be too late by the time he figures out what he really wants?
Chapter 1
Saturday: 2:30pm
His head hurt. Not the normal hung over ache he expected to have. His head was the only thing that hurt. It felt like he had been hit in the head with something. He tried to recall what he had done last night, but it was all a blur.
“MOMMY! MOMMY!” He winced as a child’s scream pierced his eardrums. “HURRY!”
“I’m here, Jordy,” his ears perked at the sound of a woman’s voice on the edge of panic. He knew that voice. How did he know that voice? “Taylor? Taylor? Can you hear me?”
“Is he dead?” He heard the child whimper. “I didn’t mean to hit him in the head with the baseball, I promise.”
So he was hit in the head. But how had that happened? He didn’t like baseball. Nor did he enjoy being around kids. He opened his mouth to say something, but the female voice started talking.
“Oh Jordy, I know baby,” the child’s mother replied. “Daddy knows that too. Run inside and get some ice for daddy.”
Daddy? His mind roared. This chick was delusional if she thought that he was the father of her child. There was no way any of his little swimmers had gotten her pregnant. He was always careful.
“Taylor, please wake up,” he heard her quiet plea. “Please, please open your eyes.”
Wanting to set the woman straight, Taylor attempted to open his eyes, but snapped them shut because of the brightness. Where the hell was he?
“Come on, Tay,” the woman encouraged. Once again he recognized her voice, but couldn’t place it.
He forced his eyes open and tried to focus, but everything was too blurry. All he could see was the bright light-was it the sun?-and a blur of a woman’s face hovering over him. He unsuccessfully willed his eyes to focus so he could figure out who she was.
“Oh thank god,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “You had me worried for a second.”
Taylor opened his mouth to speak, but clamped his mouth shut as he heard the child running towards them yelling that they had gotten an ice pack. He needed to find out who this crazy woman was and tell her there was no way in hell he was her baby daddy. All he needed to do was sit up and get his bearings.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said pushing him back down on what he now recognized as grass-had he really fallen asleep outside?-when he tried to sit up. Then he winced when she put the cold ice pack on his forehead.
As his vision began to clear, the first thing he noticed about the woman, whose back was turned to him, was her blonde hair. He had to be dreaming. No. He was having a nightmare. He must have mixed too many types of alcohol together last night. There was no other explanation for the situation he found himself in. The whole baseball thing was his first clue. The having a “kid” thing was the second one. But the blonde woman was the biggest clue. He didn’t bother with blondes; it was a well-known fact in Hollywood. All because of the one girl who had given him an ultimatum: it was her or music.
“Is daddy ok?” He heard the child ask for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“He’s going to have a bruise, but he’ll be ok,” the woman replied her back still towards him. “I bet you if you asked nicely, daddy would show you his owie.”
“Can I daddy?” The child asked, suddenly appearing close enough that Taylor could see he was a blonde, shaggy haired boy of seven or eight. “Please?”
“DADDY!” A shrill scream broke up the moment before Taylor could tell the boy he wasn’t his father. Taylor let out a grunt as he felt a child land on his chest and found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes nearly the same color as his own. If the little girl hadn’t knocked the wind out of him when she landed on him, the color of her eyes would have.
“Chrissy!” The woman scolded, pulling the girl off of his chest. “Daddy’s hurt, you can’t climb all over him.”
Then the woman moved into his line of clear vision and his heart stopped. It was Tabitha. The blonde. The woman who had given him an ultimatum, forcing him choose between his two loves: her and his music.
“T- Tabi?” He stammered; he was more confused now than ever, which only added to the pain of his pounding headache. “Where am I? What’s going on?”
“Jordy, take Chrissy inside and get the big pillow from mommy and daddy’s bed,” Tabitha instructed. “I’m going to help daddy inside.”
She spoke in a tone that he had heard so many times before. How had he not picked up on who she was through her voice? Because it’s been eight years, his brain suggested.
“Tabi, answer me,” Taylor demanded once the kids had moved out of sight.
“You and Jordan were playing baseball,” she explained. “Apparently, he hit the ball off the tee and it hit you in the head.” An amused smile replaced the worried one she had been sporting. “You’re going to have a sweet bruise.”
Despite his brain ordering his heart to remain cold to her, his heart fluttered ever so faintly as she brushed her hand over the sore spot on his head.
“Come on, let’s get you inside,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to help you to your feet, but let me know if I’m going too fast for you.”
Taylor remained silent as she helped hoist him to his feet then slightly stumbled backwards, but she caught him.
“Wow, he got you really good,” she said, placing her hand on the small of his back. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
She led him across the lawn and up to the porch of a white, two-story house he didn’t recognize, which only added to his confusion. The kids sat quietly in the living room, though Taylor doubted that would last long, as she navigated him to a large, brown sofa.
“You lay down and rest while I get you some pain reliever and call the doctor,” Tabitha instructed after helping him sit down on the couch. She turned to the kids and with a finger pointed at them said, “You two come with me, daddy needs to rest.”
Even though he wanted to get up and run from the house, the ache in his head wouldn’t allow it. He followed her orders and stretched on the couch, finding it surprisingly comfortable. He lifted his left hand to feel the sore spot on his forehead, but stopped when he saw a gold band around his ring finger, obviously another clue that he was dreaming.
Enough was enough. It was time to wake up from this nightmare, he decided. Using his left hand, he pinched his right forearm.
“Ow. Fuck,” he groaned as he rubbed the quickly bruising skin.
You weren’t supposed to feel pain in dreams, right? So if he could feel the pinch and the headache caused by the baseball, did that mean he wasn’t dreaming? And if he wasn’t dreaming, then what hell-on-earth alternate world had he found himself in and how the fuck did he get out of it?
Masterpost