Page 95 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Case and point. It was wrong. From the very first letter, it was wrong.”

“I still don’t fully agree. You were a kid, too. We were friends.”

Even as I said the word, I knew it wasn’t true. I couldn’t speak for Tag, but I knew I fell for my penpal. I’d told myself over and over that I just admired him, but was there ever a day his letters didn’t send butterflies roaring through my belly?

Friends.

The mere idea grew stale.

I chanced a glance at Tag and his gaze on me was hot and convicting. A beat of knowing passed between us.

He asked, his voice a rasp, “Friends?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Admitting to feelings for himthenwould be as vulnerable as admitting to feelings for himnow.And he just said he had no intentions toward me. So why risk my heart? A long silence went by as sticky embarrassment washed over my face. “Of course we werefriends.”

“Listen, writin’ that final letter…was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. It’ll always be one of my worst memories. It almost killed me. But I had to do the right thing.”

“Why didn’t you stop when you turned eighteen then? Why wait so long if it was truly about our age gap?”

He studied me for a second then tore his eyes away. He sighed and his gaze roamed into the distance like I’d just opened another big can of worms. “I made excuses, alright? Your letters felt like light and hope. And you already know my entire life has been pretty short in both those areas. Even the stories about your family. Sometimes, Iread them and felt like I was at the dinner table with y’all. When in reality, I was sittin’ alone with a frozen mealagain.Bea, everything about you is light and hope. Your letters were a door to a different world, and I was desperate for a different world. I guess that desperation made me selfish, ‘cause I thought, if we kept our relationship platonic, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But itwasa big deal because”—he paused, looking for words—“our letters changed. And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He growled then gave a frustrated laugh. “You’re gonna make me spell out every damn thing, aren’t you?”

I didn’t respond.

He shifted in agitation. “They just…changed.”

I gave him a blank look. I was pretty sure I knew what he was getting at, but yes, I was going to make him spell out every damn thing.

“We weren’t gonna be able to keep things platonic. We were already movin’ out of the friend zone. We stopped sharin’ facts about our lives and worlds and started sharin’ our hearts and desires for the future. That’s a far cry from platonic when you’re a full grown man talkin’ to a minor.”

“You werehardlya man.”

He huffed. “Although I happen to agree with you, the law’s opinion is the one that matters.”

I had a very hard time admitting that what we did—those comforting, wonderful pages—were wrong. How could they be? They were so pure and beautiful. I said, “We still never shared any…feelings.”

“But we had them. And that’s enough.”

I drew myself a little higher. “That’s quite the assumption.”

Tag breathed a laugh. “Alright.”

“What?”

“Bea, webothdid. Don’t even try to act like you didn’t. Look, I’m standin’ here makin’ a fool of myself. Don’t require my honesty if you can’t even be honest yourself.”

“Fine. I had…a crush on you.”

“A crush.” He shook his head.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I think we were both beyond crushes.”

“What?” I barked a laugh. “You think we were…falling in love or something?”

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