TAG (18 page)

I’m trying not to cry, and I’m trying to put all of these mixed up pieces together in my head. “Your sister knows you’re alive?” I ask.

“She was on some trip with her friends. It was fate, I think. I literarily ran into her in Nashville a couple of weeks ago. I was state
hopping, enjoying what little time I had left. There are things I wanted to do
before I die, ya know? But running into her in a bar, it was too random to be random, so I have to think a higher power wanted us
to find each
other again.” He bends over and picks up a rock from the sandy
gravel. He smoothes it between his hands, squeezing it, holding it, crushing it. “I kept all information at a minimum, and I made her promise to
never tell a soul. She was angry with me at first, but I told her there were reasons for this that I just couldn’t explain. She used to hear that
kind of stuff from me all the time, so she at least pretended to
understand. Chelsea and I were so close growing up. There’s only an
eleven-month age difference between us. We had all the same friends and because my birthday was in September and hers was in August, we were in the same grade, the same classes. She begged me not to leave her that day we ran into each other. The only compromise I could make
was to buy a pre-paid phone and give her the number.” He looks over to his truck. “She sends me a message every night, telling me she misses me and loves me.” He looks back over to me. “I never
respond. I’m
trying to save her from the pain she’ll deal with when I’m actually gone in a few weeks. But knowing that someone still loves me has gotten me through these past couple of weeks.” His eyes glaze over with a blank look. I can see he feels similar pain to me, and I think he
realized this days ago. “So no, Cali, I don’t have a girlfriend or a wife.”

I feel like my gut was just pulled out of my stomach and thrown over the ledge behind us. I haven’t hurt so much for someone else
other
than Mom and Krissy. I don’t know what that means, but I can’t just ignore the way I’m feeling. “I’m done giving you the silent
treatment, Tango. You didn’t deserve that from me.”

Even though I’m done giving him the cold shoulder, I have no words to respond to everything he just said—to everything I’m
trying to digest and understand.

When I finally lift my gaze from the red dirt beneath my feet, my
eyes find his. My eyes find a comrade of agony. “I’m sorry you
thought I’d make you a home wrecker,” he says as a tiny smile creeps over his lips.

“I was only upset, because . . . I—” My gaze angles toward the
dirt
again, but his finger slides under my chin, forcing me to look back up at
him.

“I know why you were upset. I would have been upset too. It’s why I asked you if your friend was a boyfriend.”

His hands slowly and cautiously reach around my back and I
can
feel every part of his hands caress me. My skin craves to connect
through
the thin layers of fabric separating our bodies. He pulls me in closer,
and I can feel the heat radiating off his chest. I can smell a hint of
detergent in his shirt and the salty sweat beading up on his arms.

With his eyes locked on mine, waiting for a reaction, waiting for me to maybe stop him, his hand reaches down around my butt and he pulls me up to his waist where my legs loop around his body. His
other hand slides up my side until it finds my cheek. My eyes close
in
response. His hand feels protective, reassuring, and I know how
badly I need and want this.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers. “Look at me.” As if my eyes are obeying his words, they open without a thought. His face is only inches from mine. Being this close, I can see a teal ring surrounding the jade hue of his irises, and I can see tiny freckles making a straight line down the bridge of his nose. His breath tickles and teases my lips. The sweet scent mixed with the fresh air pulls me in. “I want to make you smile, Cali.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to suppress my nerves. I want to smile too. I want to be happy more than anything in this whole
fucked up world. I want someone to like me, to love me, to care about me. I want someone I can trust.

The fury building within him is clear. His thirst needs to be quenched, and so does mine. He moves in painfully slow and stops just before his lips touch mine. My heart pounds so hard and my
breath
feels as if it’s been sucked completely out of my lungs. A sexy grin stretches across his lips. The seconds pass, the wanting in my body making it feel like forever. He finally closes the space between us,
lightly pressing his lips against mine. All of his edges are so rough and raw,
but his lips are soft and warm. His mouth explores mine, gentle at first before pulling away. His smile is replaced with a serious
expression. I think he’s gauging my reaction.

I don’t know what my face looks like right now, but if I can’t touch his lips again, it’s going to look destroyed. “Kiss me,” I beg.

His mouth quickly covers mine again, and his lips part as his tongue begins to pursue mine, allowing me to taste him, letting me breathe his breath. His hands move around my back, pressing me against him with what seems like all his strength. My fingers find
their
way to the back of his neck and into the nape of his hair. The slight touch of his buzzed stubble tickles my palms, forcing me to press
harder until the prickles turn soft.

When air stops flowing, our lips part, and my eyes search between his, knowing words and explanations aren’t necessary. We
feel the
same way. We need each other with the same desire. And I haven’t ever felt this way about any other person. It’s only been days, but this connection feels as though it’s been here forever. If he can
believe in fate, so can I.

The tip of his thumb finds my bottom lip and presses gently. “You’re smiling,” he whispers.

His words make me realize how unfamiliar the feeling is. I know
how to fake a good smile when I have to, but I haven’t grinned like this since before Mom and Krissy died. I haven’t felt like it’s been okay to really smile with my heart. And now that I can, it feels
incredible. “I can’t help it.”

He leans in again and pecks my lips. “I can.” He smiles in return as he places me back down on my feet. His arms wrap around me, and he holds me against him. With my ear up against his chest, I can hear the orchestra of his heart racing and his erratic breaths, along with wheezing and a struggle in his lungs.

I hope I didn’t steal too many of his last breaths.

I believe everything he said, and I think I might even trust him.

I’m sorry, Mom, but I think I do.

He releases an arm and places one last kiss on the top of my head. “We better get back on the road.” His hand drops into mine, and he pulls me toward the truck. I don’t want to leave this spot, the
place that will always hold an amazing memory.

***

It takes minutes before I acknowledge what just happened. I want to relive that moment over and over again.

The tips of my fingers keep finding their way to my lips, recalling the sensation of his mouth. I don’t even know where we go from here. Do I pretend like he’s not supposed to die in the next few
weeks? Or do I just forget that he’s sick—maybe I could just be his for whatever time he has left. I know what pain will come at the end of that road, but am I crazy to think the pain would be worth it in the end?

“Did you want to see your friend still?” His words sway me
from my contemplation when he brings up Sasha. I almost forgot we were supposed to meet her. “We’ll be in Pecos in about an hour.”

“She named some place called Churro Grill.”

He hands me his phone and says, “Open the GPS and type it in. It should come up.”

The address pops up, along with a list of directions. “All set.” I hold up the phone to show him. “Stay on this highway for another
forty miles, then it’s about ten miles from there.”

“Must be off the beaten path. That’s a good thing,” he says,
adjusting the rearview mirror. “She knows a lot about you?”

“Minimal information,” I respond curtly.

“Good. She can’t know where we’re going.”

“Tango, I know this.”

“I know. I just felt better saying it out loud.”

“So, if you buried your identity, does that mean . . . your real name isn’t actually Tango? My thoughts come out in blunt words, but I want to know. I’ve wanted to know. I can tell he’s searching for
an answer. I can tell he’s been trying to erase that part of his life, to forget who he
was. But who he was made him who he is, and I want to know. This is the first time I’ve seen a nervous look appear on his face. “I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t call you by it. I just want to know who you
were before you became no one.”

He looks at me and grinds his jaw back and forth. After a heavy sigh, he says, “Tyler Wright.”

A warm feeling tugs at my heart. “I like it.” I place my hand over his. “But Tango suits you.” I squeeze his hand gently. “Ooh! I know. You could call me Charlie,” I laugh a little at my own militaristic joke.

 “Impressive. You know the military alphabet?”

“Common knowledge in my household.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just call you Tango’s Alpha Girl, TAG,” he
laughs, and his eyes gleam, making him look healthier and happier than I’ve seen him since we met.

I’ll ignore that he just called me an alpha girl and focus on the fact that he just referred to me as
his girl
. “Your girl?” I ask with a raised brow.

“Maybe. The position is available and you’re a suitable candidate.”

I press my finger up to my lip, pondering the idea. “Hmm. What do I have to do to fill this position?” I can only imagine the typical man answers running through his head.

“I’ll come up with a job description. Give me a little time.” His
smile keeps growing larger, and I want to kiss every inch of it.

TANGO

How many times can I lick my lips before I don’t taste her anymore? Holy fucking shit. I can’t believe I just did that. It was like my mind
just stopped working. It did stop working. I stopped thinking and just reacted. Maybe it’s because I haven’t felt lips on mine or held a woman that closely to me in so long. I don’t know what she’s done
to me. I don’t know how she captured my heart the way she has, but she’s raising the stakes, making me want to fight for this happy ending—actually for no ending at all.

I have to make it through these canyons. I have to survive for her. Now that I’ve drunk her, sipped her, savored her, and combed my fingers through her silken hair, how the hell can I just let my lungs take everything away from me? I don’t know how I’ll be able
to focus on
anything but her now. Although, I do know I’m going to end up hurting her very badly if this doesn’t work out the way I’m hoping. I’m selfish. I am so fucking selfish. I have to beat this. For her.

CALI

WE PULL INTO
a dirt lot filled with beat up cars, a couple of bikes,
and a handful of eighteen-wheelers. Looks like a pit stop. The place is rundown, decked out with white Christmas lights and a
deteriorating
deck hanging off the front entrance. The confused look on his face matches how I feel, wondering why Sasha would direct us here. He doesn’t even know she’s a cute little blond girl probably sitting in the
middle of way too many lonely truck drivers.

“I’m going to go in and scope the place out. What does she look like?” he asks.

I don’t argue. Something feels a little off about this place. “She’s
a tiny little thing. Long curly blond hair, big blue eyes, and usually wears a lot of pink. If she’s in there, you won’t miss her.” I try not to laugh at my description. I used to call Sasha Miss Piggy because of the amount of pink she wore. She’s a little obsessed. As we grew older, it became apparent how much our personalities clashed. Nevertheless,
when you grow up as close as we grew up, it doesn’t matter what changes either of us went through, we still love each other for who we have always been. Acceptance and tolerance have never been questioned.

“Good to know we won’t be drawing attention to ourselves here,” he jokes.

“Who knows, maybe she’s toned it down. But I’d have to say, I doubt it.”

He casually makes his way inside of the shack-looking restaurant. I swear I just saw a rat squirm out through the hatch doors on the side of the building, and I think I’ve just lost my appetite.

It takes Tango less than a minute to observe and pop his head back out. He nods his head toward the front entrance, confirming it’s
okay to come in. I’m excited to see Sasha. It’s been over a year, and
our last encounter wasn’t on the greatest terms. It was right after Krissy was murdered.

I can remember the call as if it happened yesterday. I called from the hospital room I was in, alone, after I was shot. Reaper escaped and was already on the run. There wasn’t even a trace of his existence left for the police to find. I was in shock and in a lot of pain;
especially finding out the bullet he shot me with would become a new accessory inside of my body. I was so alone. I wanted to pour alcohol into my eyes just to destroy the image of Krissy’s neck being slashed. I couldn’t
figure out how I’d survive without her. I didn’t want to. Our lives weren’t supposed to end up like this. We had big plans. We were going to go with our friends, Chloe and Alex, to live in Paris for a year and then we were going to travel the world. We were going to forget about the lives we were left to deal with, and I was going to
help her forget about the rape she was forced to survive through. It was a good solid
plan. All she had to do was finish her last two years of college, but that night was the ending to our dream. It was the ending to everything I had left, and I had intended it to be my ending too.