Thirty-nine
THIRTY-NINE
Tag
“ L et’s look at the stars. Where can we go for that?” Bea’s eyes danced with excitement.
“The pastures. We can lay in the truck bed. Big open sky there.”
“Oh! Yes, let’s do it.”
Ten minutes later, I parked the truck near pasture eight, spread some quilts in the truck bed, and settled my body right beside Bea’s. She laid, rapt with awe.
“Incredible.” Her breathless voice was wonder-filled.
“Beautiful, huh?”
“That’s not even the right word.”
The right word.
Her phrase dredged up old yearnings. There were no right words for Bea. Explaining her would be as difficult as trying to understand quantum physics. But the hunt for that right word was a task I had found intoxicating.
I’d written pages and pages to Strings.
And pages about Strings.
It was a task never finished. I’d never fully encapsulate her. Especially now that I knew her face, her smile, her laugh, her tears. Now that I’d held her, hugged her, and leaned forward to kiss her. I’d felt her breath on my neck and touched her soft skin.
What words could I write now?
For the first time in ages, I itched for a pen and paper.
She looked at the stars, but I looked at her. The gentle wash of moonlight over her skin, the glow on her hair, the inner sparkle in her eyes. With a will of its own, my hand reached out and brushed the back of hers.
Her fingers immediately responded, granting me access. I slipped my hand around to her palm. Her exhale was heady and long as our fingers slowly entwined. All of the unhindered joy Bea possessed pumped through her hand into mine. Relief unfurled in my chest so strong, so rapidly that tears pricked my eyes.
This woman was undoing everything I knew about myself.
Three weeks ago, I couldn’t find a reason to smile. Now I couldn’t stop. Before she came, how long had it been since I laughed? Touched someone? Conversed over a meal? Acknowledged my feelings? Teared up? Gotten a hug?
She was a tonic to my heart. An antidote to my debilitating loneliness.
I lifted our hands to my mouth, gently brushing my lips against the back of her hand. She turned her face up, watching me do it. She remained silent, but the gentle rise and fall of her chest changed tempo. Her skin on my lips caused desire to course through my veins. She was soft, perfect—even the back of her hand.
For a long time, we laid, silently watching the stars.
We made some small talk about constellations, but the conversation petered out after we both admitted to knowing zilch about them. My focus was tethered to her alone, anyway. Nothing in the galaxy could recapture my attention. Everything—the night’s song, the visible bits of our Milky Way, the warm breeze—was a backdrop to Bea, whose smile stole the show.
Maybe the truck bed wasn’t my brightest idea. Because the only thing I wanted to do was roll over her and kiss until the stars melted away. I wanted to touch and be touched. The thought was terrifying. Desiring those things brought up so many conflicting feelings within me. But I still couldn’t think of anything else.
I warred my thoughts. They were a furious clash of memories, passion, awe, and confusion.
If physical intimacy was an expression of love, the only love I’d ever received in my life was so damn screwed up. If intimacy was an offering I could give to Bea, my gift was half-gone, picked-over, already ravaged.
But Bea, by nature, was so accepting. I’d come to know her graciousness first hand. Part of me knew if I offered the love I had—as broken and scarred as it was—she would treasure it because it was mine.
The power of three words reverberated off the walls of my brain and ricocheted a shudder through my body. Never in my entire life did I think I’d be here with her, the admission of love one exhale away.
I wanted to tell her.
But then what? She was leaving. Would we go back to long distance? Letters, texts, phone calls? The thought of her leaving made me physically ache.
Bea shifted, grunting in discomfort. Then she wriggled, lifted her hips, fished a handful of Starburst out of her pocket, and dumped the pile onto her belly. Must’ve had half a dozen or so.
“You stockin’ up for winter?”
She slapped my chest, dissolving into giggles. “Don’t judge me. I love these things.”
She plucked up a pink one, her nail scratching at the tightly folded wrapper. She popped it in and spoke with her mouth full. “Have you ever played the Starburst game?”
I shook my head with a smile. “You and your weird games.”
“They might be weird, but you have to admit, they’re entertaining. I learned this one in middle school.”
I barked a laugh at that. “Fine. What’s the Starburst game?”
“You put a Starburst in your mouth—wrapped—and you have to unwrap it in your mouth.”
“That sounds impossible.”
“It’s not!” She lifted her chin with pride. “I can do it! ”
“Prove it.”
She popped one into her mouth. I watched.
Desire prickled over my body as I watched her lips close around the wrapped candy and her jaw quietly work. She darted a glance at me, giddy eagerness oozing from her expression. She squinted as she struggled then squeaked with excitement and pointed at her lips like watch . As if my gaze wasn’t glued to her mouth already.
Felt like something was squeezing the air out of my lungs.
Suddenly she opened her mouth and pulled out the wrapper, all smug. “See? Totally possible.” She chewed her reward.
“Lemme try.” I picked out a yellow.
She wriggled with excitement again and turned to her side to face me. She let go of my hand, tucked her elbow under her head, and grabbed my hand again with her other one.
I told my eyes not to follow the hills of her body, or linger on how her shirt had bunched in the valley of her waist.
I tossed it into my mouth. Her gaze fell to my lips and the heat churning in my gut spread everywhere. Even down to my fingertips. I squeezed her hand and closed my eyes. Had to or I’d stop breathing.
I doubted she meant for this game to be sensual, but it definitely was.
My breathing was short, choppy.
Running my tongue over the candy, I finally found the corner of the wrapper and scraped it against my teeth. I worked for what seemed like years. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I felt her gaze on me. Together, our hands grew hot.
Finally, I pulled the yellow wrapper from my mouth. Lemon flavor burst over my tongue.
“I did it.” I opened my eyes, chewing.
Bea was closer. Her eyes were hooded, still trained on my lips. She raised an eyebrow, trying to hold on to her fading game face. “You know what they say about the Starburst game?”
“What?”
“That if you can unwrap one, it means you’re a good kisser.” Her eyes flicked up to mine in question.
Alright, maybe she did mean for the game to be sensual .
“We could…test the results.”
I clarified, “To see if we’re good kissers?”
She nodded.
A laugh, strangled and exhilarating, bubbled up from my throat. This woman was practically begging me to kiss her. I’d burn through half a notebook trying to describe how that made me feel.
She bumped me with her elbow. “Why are you laughing?”
“Did you plan this?”
She scoffed, a wild laugh of disbelief filling the night. “No!”
I clicked my tongue, doubtful.
“I swear I didn’t.” She placed her hands on her cheeks. They were probably red.
“You brought me out to this field to beg for a kiss. Admit it.”
She wheezed in a breath. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise!”
We laughed together as our hands clasped between us again.
In a stroke of courage, I tugged her toward me, our faces mere inches away. Her laughter quickly faded. I looked directly into her eyes. “You don’t have to beg.”
“I wasn’t?—”
I placed my index finger across her lips. “Shh.”
She fell silent, her breath heavier, her gaze roaming my face.
“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to kiss you.”
Her gaze snapped to mine as the implications of what I said visibly turned over in her expression.
Blood thrummed through my veins.
My hand slipped over her jaw, and her breath shuddered. Masculine desire took the wheel, my baggage blindly tossed into the backseat. I dropped my face to hers. When I hesitated, Bea made the last move, lifting her chin until our lips touched.
We exhaled together. A sound of relief. A tangible finally.
Her lips were everything I knew they would be. Sweet, responsive, so soft. My hand skimmed down her neck, to her shoulder, gently squeezing. She felt exactly right. My hand followed the curve of her waist around to her back, pressing her in. She lifted her arms, pulling my head closer .
Our kiss was gentle and slow. A reverent voyage onto sacred ground.
For a few glorious moments, we held each other close.
I had the light—a drop of sun—clutched in my arms. And the darkness in me took it as a challenge. I felt its cold hands gripping me, dragging me back to the only place I knew.
Fear .
Even as her loving kiss moved across my lips, even as she angled her head to mine, even as she made the sweetest, quietest, happiest sound I’d ever heard—a soft hum—I panicked.
The stupid dream I’d had rushed into my memory. Bea’s angry face as she jerked mine down toward hers. “Focus on me, Tag.”
I’m trying, Bea.
And suddenly I felt like the biggest jackass on the face of the planet. The biggest coward. The biggest waste of time. The biggest nothing.
In the dream, Bea was right. It would always be the same with me. I wouldn’t ever be free to stop looking over my shoulder. My watch, my vigilance, my memories…they would follow me forever.
Dammit. I’m trying, Bea. I’m trying.
Love required touch. Bea deserved someone who could love her body well. Someone who could stop running from his past long enough to adore her. Someone who wasn’t afraid to be fully, completely known.
Bea’s lips parted and her tongue delicately touched my bottom lip.
I pulled back, breaking the kiss. Adrenaline dumped into my veins. I realized I had started to tremble. I rolled to my back again, staring straight up at the stars, but not seeing them. I resisted the urge to clutch my chest, and begged the universe to spare me from spiraling right here and now.
Please.
She took a few heavy breaths before she silently rolled to her back too. “Tag?” she whispered, “Are you okay?” The anguish in her voice made me ache on the inside. Rolling away made sense in the moment, but it was heartless. She probably thought she did something wrong.
“I’m—I’m fine.”
“I’m pretty sure I was a lot more into that than you were.” She took a shuddering breath.
We laid there in awkward silence for a few long moments.
I took a deep breath, then another. Had to get control of my heart rate.
I didn’t recognize my own voice. “I shouldn’t be kissin’ you.”
She sighed, not trying to hide her frustration. “That doesn’t make sense. Why on earth not?”
“You’re leaving.”
“Tag.”
I stared at the stars.
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I turned my head to find her looking straight into my eyes.
“We need to talk.”
I waited.
Her voice was a taut whisper. “What exactly are we?”
“I don’t understand.”
She huffed. “When I go home to Colorado on Tuesday, I need to know where we stand. I came here as an old, forgotten friend and now…I have no idea what to think. Sometimes, I believe you want this as bad as I do, but other times, I have no idea what’s going through your head. This entire time, we’ve clearly had feelings for each other, but have never once broached the topic of what’s next. Talk to me.”
My swallow was thick, stuck. “I—I do care about you.”
“I care about you.” She echoed.
“In theory, I’d love to…”
“Love to what?”
“Be…together, I guess.”
“You guess.” Her tone was flat, unimpressed.
“Come on, Bea. I don’t know how to talk about shit like this.”
“It’s not shit. This is important.”
“I didn’t mean it was—” I reached up and dragged a hand over my face. If there was something to screw up—be it tone, delivery, or something else—I would. “I don’t know all the right things to say, alright? To be honest, I’m not sure where we go from here. ”
“I mean, should we keep in touch? Or pursue a long distance relationship or something? I need to know if you want these things, or if I’m alone in it.”
“You’re not alone. But…”
She waited.
“You are one of a kind, Bea.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to get through this conversation. “I keep gettin’ swept away by everything you are and forgettin’ about who I am. The truth is, what I said in the barnyard still…” My heart twisted. I’d pined for this woman for how many years? And yet, I should turn her away. “It still stands. I don’t know how to be more.”
“Why do you say that?” Her hoarse whisper snagged in my heart. “Please tell me why.”
“I’ll never be able to give you all the things you deserve, Bea.”
“How hard could it be to just?—”
“You don’t understand ‘cause you can’t. You and I come from different worlds. I can’t be the man you need. And I think if you stopped and really thought about it for a sec, you’d probably realize I’m not the man you want , either.”
“You didn’t answer my question. I asked you why. ”
When I didn’t answer, she rolled to her side and gripped my bicep. “Tag, look at me.” I did. “I don’t want to be protected from you. When you care about someone, you take them. At their best and at their worst. You take the good, the bad, the ugly…” She paused, then quietly added. “And even the rain.”
A fist of something from hell clogged my throat. She had no idea what she was saying.
Her voice was desperate. “If I have to leave my heart in Texas, I deserve an answer.”
Blood churning, my stomach bucked. I turned. “I have never been loved, Bea.”
“Tag—”
“No, you asked for the answer, so you gotta listen.”
She stopped talking but her lip trembled.
“While your family was gathered around the table for family game night, I was locked in a closet, forced to piss in an old water bottle.” Her eyes widened. “While yours was eating home cooked meals and goin’ back and forth to soccer practice, I was searchin’ drains for loose change.” My voice cracked.
Something built in my throat and a shaking sensation sent fear racing through my veins. I hated this shaking. It flung my body back into the darkness of those nights, into the rainstorms. It reminded me of the bottom bunk, laying there, paralyzed with fear.
“While you were fast asleep, I was—” The words choked up my throat. I clenched a fist, tapping it against my forehead. “There’s a reason my bedroom door is always locked and yours stands wide open. To this day, I deal with the hell of my childhood. My life will never be like yours ‘cause I can’t…get away from…”
After a beat of tense silence, she asked, “What, Tag?” Her voice was tight with emotions, a prodding whisper. “Can’t get away from what?”
“The memories.” I opened my mouth to say more but the chord of tension pulled, the space between my shoulders and breastbone collapsing. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t conjure up my voice. I ran distressed hands through my hair and shook my head. Tears welled up, and I tried to blink them away.
Her gentle hand settled on my chest. She scooted up so we were eye to eye. “You’re right. I don’t know how any of that feels. That’s not a burden I’ve ever had to carry.” Her voice gained strength. “But here’s where you’re wrong. Whatever is in your past, whoever has hurt you…none of it makes you unworthy of love. Real love grows in spite of pain and fear. But you have to give it a chance and you have to believe that you , Tag, are someone worth loving.”
She moved her hand to my cheek, directing me to look into her eyes.
“Think about Tillie. Your love gave her a chance. You know that, right?” I blinked hard and a warm tear trickled out of my eye. “Other people looked at her scars and they gave up on her, but you loved her back to life, Tag, and one day you have to let someone do the same for you.”
I shook my head, and she stopped my motion with her hand.
She sniffed and quietly asked a question that sent pain ravaging through my chest. “Was Tillie worth it?” When I didn’t immediately answer, she prodded me, giving my face a tiny shake. “Was she worth it?”
My voice was a painful rasp. “Yes.”
“And she’s a horse. You are a soul . One of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever met.”
I lifted my hand to her wrist, sweeping my thumb over the back of it.
“If you have ever wondered if you’re worth the pain, the time, the heartbreak…I’m telling you right now you are. It might take you a while to believe me. Even Tillie had to be convinced. But just like her, you have a joy-filled, meaningful life ahead of you. I know it. And you don’t have to do any of it alone.”
She looked into my eyes, lips quivering. Bea’s face was as tear-stained as mine.
She swallowed hard. “You were wrong about something else, too.” She pressed her lips together to hold her composure. “You have been loved. Even if no one else in the world has loved you, Tag, I have always loved you.”
I choked down a building sob, pressing it back into my chest.
She swiped her thumb over my wet cheek and leaned her forehead to mine. “I love you.”
I love you. I wanted to say it back, but my throat was choked with feelings. My insides were chaos. I groped for stability, for an anchor, for something to keep me from slipping into the other reality that constantly pulled at me.
I pressed my lips to her forehead and took a deep, greedy breath of her scent. Once, twice, and again. My arms slipped around her body and pulled her against me. Her head hit my chest and she gripped me without a beat of hesitation.
I whispered over her hair, squeezing her tighter, my voice raw with tension. “Thank you, Bea. I want to believe.”
She didn’t respond, but when my hand found hers in the dark, she clasped it tight and didn’t let go. I raised her fingers to my lips and kissed them, wishing I was brave enough to say all the things I wanted to say .
But I wasn’t.
The only place I'd ever been brave was on paper. And once again, I heard it calling me. A soft whisper of longing in my chest dared me to write it out. Dared me to examine the truth pulling my heart to pieces. Dared me to lay down the burden.
But for the moment, I just held her and hoped—prayed—she would somehow, in the way that she always had, hear what I couldn't say.
I focused on her head on my chest, her hair draping over my neck, and the way we breathed together. I made myself focus on the truck bed beneath me and wait for the breeze to caress us.
And I cried silent tears for a long time.