Page 19 of Tag
“Come on,” I said, pushing to my feet. “You need sleep.”
“Don’t think I can.”
“Then sit with me,” I said. “Just for a while.”
Aponi
He tossed a sheet over the window to hide the glare from the rising sun. That made it cozy inside.
Tag tossed me one of his sweatshirts and settled into the worn-out armchair. I took the edge of the mattress, my legs curled under me, mug of lukewarm tea in my hands.
I didn’t say anything.
He didn’t push.
After a while, I broke the silence. “I thought I could handle it.”
“You did.”
“No,” I said. “I mean all of it. This case. The pressure. The guilt. The walls I’ve built. But then you came along and kicked them in without even trying.”
Tag leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice quiet. “Aponi, you’ve been holding up half this city on your back. You didn’t need me to kick the walls in. You just needed someone to see you through them.”
My chest ached at how simple he made it sound.
He stood, walked over, and sat beside me. Our knees touched.
“You scare the hell out of me,” I said.
“Why?” he whispered.
“Because you make me feel like I’m worth saving. After my mom left the reservation, I spent most of my life alone. I thought Farron and my father were dead, and they thought I was dead. What a mess my mother made of our lives.
He reached out, gently cupping my cheek. “You’ve always been worth saving. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
I turned my face into his palm, eyes fluttering closed.
For the first time in forever, I let someone hold me without feeling weak.
And when his lips finally brushed mine—slow, tentative, warm—I didn’t pull away.
I leaned in.
And let go.
16
Aponi
The candlelight had burned down to a flicker.
Tag's lips still tasted like quiet promises and danger.
I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. Not tonight. Not with the weight of a hundred girls still heavy on my back and a gang leader back from the dead.
But then he whispered my name like it meant something.
And suddenly, I didn’t want strength. I wanted to surrender.
