Page 193 of Tag

I checked the time. It was still too long before I’d see her again. Even now, her image burned behind my eye. God, I missed her. I missed her in the way you miss air when you're drowning.

I had accounted for everything leading up to this weekend, except Dennis. He’d been an interruption I couldn’t ignore.

Now that he was gone, we had a schedule to get back to, faces to see, and ink to be gotten before I could get back to my girl. But first things first, it was time to ditch this fucking car.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

RYDER

I did something I hadn’t done in years. I scaled the trellis outside Sassy’s window. The wrought iron felt colder than I remembered, twisted into ornate patterns like something out of a fairy tale. My palms burned as I gripped the railing and hauled myself up, jostling the wrap on my hand. Once I made it onto the balcony, I crouched down to open the window. I knew how to find the latch. I had done this so many times in the past that I could have repeated it with my eyes closed. A quiet click later, and the window opened enough for me to slip through.

Moonlight spilled in around me as I eased the curtain aside, stepping down onto the window bench. My shoes came off silently, and I peeled my hoodie over my head, careful not to aggravate the bandage tight around my hand. It throbbed anyway. She was still asleep, tangled in her comforter, one arm curled around a pillow like she’d been reaching for something in her dreams. Or someone. I crossed the room and stood at the edge of her bed, watching her.

My gaze drifted to the bulletin board hanging on the wall, filled with snapshots, only she would arrange like that. Photos of us. Of our friends. Of her entire world, and mine too. Because she was always the center of it. There we were as kids, grinning like we didn’t know any better. Me in a helmet too big for my head, her beside me in a makeshift cheer uniform, pom-poms she’d cut from notebook paper. She’d insisted on matching me and said if I had a jersey, she needed one too. She was loud backthen. Bright. Always in my corner. My one-person fan club. My whole damn world.

My eyes drifted to the next cluster.

It was us and all the dances we’d attended together. Homecomings and proms. For each of them, I’d propositioned her house with a ridiculous sign, flowers, the whole cliché, because even though we’d known long before then, she was going with me as my date, she deserved everything. The little moments and the big ones. I would never miss a chance to make her feel wanted or special.

Another picture was of us at the county fair. We were on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Her hair was flying, her head thrown back in laughter. I had my arm locked around her waist to try and keep her still. Diagonal from that was us at camping, firelight dancing against her skin, her head resting on my shoulder, both of us wrapped in the same blanket. That night sky above us stretched on forever. One thing all these photos started to have in common was the way she looked at me in them.

I tore my eyes away from the board and moved back across the room. I stopped at the edge of her bed again, bracing my hands on the footboard. How could one woman be so beautiful? Even half-buried in blankets, her hair a wild halo against the pillow, a faint crease between her brows like she was still arguing with someone in her sleep.

I was down so fucking bad for her.

I loved her so much it made me sick.

She’d seen flashes of it, the cruelty and the possessive streak. She loved me anyway. She was there when the golden boy's shine cracked and flaked off in sharp little pieces.

I turned and sat at the foot of her bed, elbows braced on my knees, the mattress dipping beneath me.

I’d left Ellie’s hours ago. I showered at the pool house to wash the night off me. The sweat, the smoke. The blood.

Then I came straight here.

I needed this.

Not just her body curled beneath the sheets. Not just the scent of her skin still clinging to the pillow. I needed the quiet. The piece of myself that hadn’t rotted beneath expectation and control. The part she kept tethered to something soft and human. She made it too easy to forget how dangerous I really was.

“Rye?” her voice floated from behind me, thick with sleep.

A slow grin tugged at my mouth. I looked back at her. “Would any other man be in your room this late, Sass?”

She blinked at me, then moved, crawling down the bed. One hand brushed her hair from her face, dark strands tumbling like ink across her shoulder and catching the moonlight as she reached me. She rested her head against my back, looping an arm around my chest, her body molding to mine perfectly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

My eyes closed. Her voice could’ve shattered me or saved me.

“Nothing, just needed to be here.”

She was quiet for a second. “What time is it?”

“A little after two.”

“Come lie down,” she murmured.

She didn’t have to ask twice.

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