Some of the tightness in Tag’s chest loosened at the venom in her voice.
A part of him had wondered if she’d ever had feelings for the bastard. Even after getting the whole story and hearing how Mitch had preyed on her, how he’d tortured her, a part of him had still wondered.
But the disgust, the rage, the hatred was clear in her voice. The only emotions she felt for the guy, at least now, were negative ones.
Good to know.
She buried her nose in the scuffed leather and then pressed the folded jacket against her breasts. After a deep, slow inhale, her face twisted.
“Do you think he was scared? He must have died alone. Nobody trying to save him.” She wheezed out a wet breath and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I hope he wasn’t afraid.”
Ah…fuck…
Tired of resisting the pull, Tag swept the items of clothing further up the mattress and sat next to her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he tucked her against his side.
“Try not to think about that. It helps to concentrate on the good memories. The ones that bring a smile.” Or if not a smile, at least a measure of peace. “Try to remember him when he was happy, healthy. Let the bad memories go. Focus on the good ones.”
She sighed, snuggling against him.
He released a cautious exhale of relief when she didn’t pull away.
“Is that how you handle it?” Her voice was muffled against the side of his throat, still a bit weepy, but stronger than before.
“What?” he asked, distracted by the warm, moist puffs of breath dampening his skin. Tingles swept his scalp, then shot straight to his cock.
Christ, maybe this comforting wasn’t such a good idea.
“Losing someone you care about.” She exhaled and turned her cheek against his neck. “In your line of work, you must have lots of experience with death. Is that what you do? Focus on the good memories. The happier times.”
“I try,” he admitted quietly as a slideshow of ghostly faces scrolled through his mind. “Most of the time it works well enough.” Although not always…some faces still haunted him.
She sighed again, her breathing hitchy and uneven. Before he had a chance to relax, the warm, wet slide of tears rolled down his neck.
“It’s just…he was only twenty-two. He still had so much life ahead of him. It’s not fair.” She hiccupped, a wet, grieving expulsion of air—but not quite a sob.
“I know.” He cuddled her closer, kissed the top of her head. “Let it out. You’ll feel better.”
She took him at his word and cried. A deep, raw, silent weeping where the tears rolled thick and silent down her face and onto his neck until they’d soaked the collar of his shirt.
He sat there and held her, let her pain pour out, surprised to find there was no place he’d rather be in the world than here with Sarah as she gave her grief free rein. Even after the tears slowed and then stopped completely, he continued to hold her, stroking her back, trying to ignore the enthusiastic partying certain parts of his anatomy were engaged in at having her so close.
When she finally pulled back, he eased his hold to give her more space. “It will get easier. Eventually—not right away—but over time, you’ll be able to think of him without it hurting.”
“I know.” But her smile was weak and shaky. “I didn’t think Mom and Dad’s death would ever stop hurting.” She shook her head, a blind look filling her eyes. “But Sean…this is different.”
“I know it is.” When guilt mixed with grief, it added a whole new layer to sorrow.
Even though she had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. You could only save people who wanted saving. Sean had wanted his next high more than his life. Even if his death hadn’t been caused by a self-inflicted drug overdose, chasing his next fix had put him in the situation that had led to it.
Her brother could have told Mitch no. He could have walked away and saved both him and his sister two years of pain.
When Sarah turned toward him, Tag pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. He should have left it at that. But damn, he had to go and take a good look at her face.
Big mistake.
Her eyes were closed, the lashes damp and spiky. Her cheeks were shiny and wet. Her lips slightly parted. Her face white with grief and exhaustion. Without thinking, he pressed