I recall our conversation, the one where he admitted he never wanted to love someone so much that life would be less without them. Yet he loves me. He risked his worst fear for me. For the love of me.
He’s crying. It’s a slight, manly shaking of his big body that makes me want to pull him against me, to comfort him and tell him that I’m not going anywhere, that I would never leave him like that. Only I know that it’s probably too late to turn back now.
“I love you,” he whispers, wetness coating the area under my ear. “I love you more than anything else in my life. What am I supposed to do without you? You can’t leave me now, so soon. Not like this. Please, Tommi. Please, please, please. I love you. Tia, I love you.”
Tia, I love you.
Tia. That’s me. The real me. The girl who killed her brother by accident. The girl who forged checks and lied about who she was. The girl who bargained with her body and her soul, the only things she had left, in order to save her brother.
This man, this strong, amazing, funny, caring man loves me.
I’ve waited all my life, all my disaster-of-a-life to find him, to hear those words. And now I’m leaving. This glimpse, this short, heartbreaking glimpse, is all I’ll ever get.
Why? Why did I do this? Why did I give up so easily? Why did I run instead of fighting? I’ve come this far, why didn’t I finish the race?
Thoughts war. Wills battle. Something dies. And something new emerges.
As though it’s a physical exchange, I feel the past and all its sadness draining out from me, leaving me along with my blood. But inside, somewhere deep inside, I feel love and hope and determination well within me, a spring overflowing in my chest, filling me with warmth and determination.
With every ounce of strength that I have, I force my lids open. The room dips and sways, but I blink back the dizzying spin and try to focus.
“Sig,” I murmur, my lips dry, my tongue thick.
Stillness. Absolute stillness.
“Sig,” I say again, as loudly as I can muster, pushing past this overwhelming weakness.
Slowly, as though I’m the most fragile thing in the world, Sig lowers me away from him enough to look down into my face. His eyes are wet with tears, the lashes spiky and black around the warm chocolate centers. One tear slips out and runs down his cheek. “Tommi?”
“I’m s-so sorry. I…I wish…I regret…” It’s so hard to talk. I’m so tired, the temptation to shut my eyes so compelling. “I p-panicked. Felt s-so bad. So…ashamed. The guilt. So much. B-but I shouldn’t have done this to you, t-to Travis. I love…love you. So much.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips to mine. “Please be strong. For me. Help is on the way. Just stay with me until they come. Okay?” he asks, looking down at me again. “Promise me you’ll stay, you’ll fight.”
“I-I promise.”
Then he holds me tight against his chest, like he never plans to let me go, and I think to myself that if I have one last wish, one last prayer to pray, that I’ll beg God to let me stay.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - SIG
Two months later
“So when will we get to see Sloane?” Travis asks for the fifth time at least.
“She’s getting married, dude.” The look on his face says he doesn’t care. “Don’t make me regret bringing you.”
He sits back against the seat, holding his hands up in surrender, but he’s trying not to smile. And I like seeing that. I wasn’t sure the kid would ever smile again there for a while.
“So what am I supposed to do while you’re up there?” he asks when I shift into park in the church lot and cut the engine.
“Keep quiet, which I know won’t be a problem for your sulky ass. You’ll be in the front row. Just sit there until my brothers find you.”
“Which ones are they again?”
“Steven and Scout.”
“Hemi and Reese and what’s the other one’s name?”
“Leif. Bu they’re in-laws. Hemi is Sloane’s fiancé and his brothers are Reese and Leif.”
“And Reese is married to…”
“Kennedy.”
“She’s pretty hot, too.”
“Yeah, she’s all right.” There was a time when I thought she was really hot, but that was before Tommi. Tia. She forever changed beauty for me. She forever changed me. My chest gets tight when I think about her, just like it’s done a million times in the last couple of months. Since that night she…
“Not as hot as Sloane,” Travis mutters.
“Ewww. She’s my sister, douche. And you’d better keep comments like that to yourself. Hemi’ll whip that ass if you’re not careful.”
“Penis envy,” Travis deadpans.
I laugh. I can’t help it. The kid cracks me up.
It feels good to laugh. Like Travis, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to laugh again either.
When we get out, I reach out to straighten Travis’s tie. Then I straighten my own and tug at the bottom of my tux jacket. “So, am I killin’ it?” I ask.
“As much as big, goofy bastard like you can, I guess.”
I lightly punch his arm. He takes it and leans far to one side and springs back, like one of those inflatable punching bags with sand in the bottom. He doesn’t retaliate, but I see his lips twitch. That’s good enough for me. One step at a time.
We make our way into the church. It’s just starting to fill up. I drop Travis off at the front row and head to the area behind the pulpit, where the groom awaits. It’s lighthearted in here. Hemi can’t stop smiling. His brothers can’t stop teasing him. It’s like all is right with the world for them.
My sister’s best friend, Sarah, asked her mother, Blaire, to take care of the baby during the ceremony. After a short knock, she appears at the pastor’s door carrying Eden, my niece.
Blaire carries her to Hemi. “She was getting fussy and I think the bride has her hands full at the moment.”