When Tag arrived at his penthouse, he was ready to drop. The overnight flight had been rough, and thanks to the cabin shaking like a Mexican jumping bean, he hadn’t slept a wink.
Despite the motion sickness, he’d stayed awake and worked. Thanks to a long night of sleep deprivation, his brain was fuzzy and his head was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for days. He had to grab at least a few hours, or he’d be jet-lagged forever.
Despite the rough flight home and the hectic schedule while he was there, he was glad he made the trip. There had been a narrow window to buy fast and close quickly, and another party had been interested in the land. He and Reese had arranged to have their lawyer fly over to facilitate the agreement. And like that, the Crane Maui hotel had a foundation. Now it was done and Tag had never been so grateful to be at his own penthouse.
There was an added benefit to his trip: the relentless feeling of plummeting headfirst into Terror Town had dissipated. Whatever he’d been upset about while sharing his place with Rachel—whatever bizarre fear had rattled him—was gone. He’d missed Rachel so much, he could hardly stand it. He’d called and texted her a few times, but the long-distance contact hadn’t been enough. He couldn’t wait to wrap his arms around her, smell the sweet scent of her hair.
He stuck the key in the lock and let himself in, dragging his suitcase behind him. Rachel was standing in his living room, a sight for his incredibly sore eyes.
Like the first time he saw her outside his apartment building, he felt the hit low in his gut. At the time he’d been transfixed by her blond hair and full, glossed lips, and wondering what secrets this exquisite creature held. Now he knew. He’d had her blond hair wound around his fist, and he’d kissed those lips more times than he could count. He’d learned she preferred to sleep on her side facing the windows and that she always left her towel on the bathroom floor. She took her coffee black, her breakfast to-go, and always, always slept in pajamas. Even when he begged her not to.
A smile crested his mouth. God. He’d missed her.
“Hey. I thought you’d be at work.” He wrapped an arm around her and held her close. His chest filled. “Mmm. You smell good.” He kissed her hair, then moved to kiss her mouth, but she turned her face and pulled away from him.
Her eyes were shuttered, her mouth unsmiling.
What the hell?
She moved to a suitcase by the door—this one hers, which stood next to another large bag. She hooked her purse onto her shoulder and tilted her head. “You’re early. I thought you’d be home later today.”
Her tone was flat. Her eyes were flat. In his head, a warning siren blared.
“I left right after the closing.” His eyes tracked back to her luggage. “Dimples, what’s going on?”
“I’m going to Ohio today,” she said. Formally.
The wedding. Thank Christ. He’d thought for a second she was moving out. His brain was more sluggish than he’d thought. He was borderline panicked, and all she was doing was going on the trip she’d told him about.
“Right. Have a nice time. Are you taking my car?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, feeling every minute of sleep he’d lost.
“I’m not taking your car, Tag.” Her tone was still flat, her forehead creased.
Whoo-ooop! Whoo-ooop! The siren in his head screeched.
Okay. It wasn’t just the jet lag. Something was definitely wrong.
“I’m going to need you to lay out what’s going on,” he said. “I don’t like this.”
“I didn’t plan on doing this now, but maybe I should…” Her blue eyes held his, devoid of the heat and desire he’d grown accustomed to seeing there. In their place was acceptance. Pragmatism. “Things had to end sometime, right?”
End? His heart hammered double time. He released the death grip on his suitcase handle and came to stand in front of her.
“Hang on.” He pushed the front door closed and put his hand flat on the wood. He couldn’t comprehend what she’d told him. It was like his mind was lined with fur. “I’ve had a long, sleepless night. An exhausting flight. Let’s—”
“I had fun, Tag.” Her smile was polite. “I don’t want you to think I have any regrets, because I don’t.”
My God, she’s seriously doing this.
“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done,” she continued. “You really helped me through a bad patch.”
“Dimples, hang on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his head pounding as hard as his heart. His head swirling, dizzy.
“I feel like it’s best to end things now before it gets harder to walk away.”
He opened his eyes to find her eyes swimming in sadness. He wasn’t sad. His chest was as empty as if his heart had been scooped out.
“Who said anything about walking away?” he managed. Barely.
“You did,” she said quietly. “In a million subtle ways. The way you left for Hawaii after I’d stayed with you for a few days. The way you have kept me as close as possible in bed, but as far as possible elsewhere. I’m not angry, Tag. I’m not. And this is a good thing for you. You’re off the hook. For the wedding. For the future. It’s better for both of us if we don’t drag this out.”
His synapses were running at a slog, but one thought snapped into place. “This is about me not going to a wedding?”
“It’s okay. You are who you are, but I need to be who I am.”
She might not be angry, but he sure as hell was. Pissed, he stepped forward and looked down at her. “And who are you, Dimples?”
She met his gaze and said, “A woman who is capable of doing things without your help.”
She didn’t want his help any longer? After he’d closed the bar for her when she was ready to drop? After he gave her a place to stay, had offered his home and car and plane to give her whatever she needed? After taking the time to crack open the woman underneath the scared one she presented to the world?
“You mean now that you’ve taken everything you needed from me, you’re good to go?” His nostrils flared, anger surging through him. Voice raised, he continued. “You found your sexual self and your ability to take no shit from your ex, and you secured the job of your dreams in a building with my goddamn name on it, and now you’re capable?” he all but shouted.
Rachel blanched, her cheeks dulling. He’d surprised her, but what had she expected? For him to say “no problem” when she dumped him on his ass? She’d gutted him. He could barely process the pain lying in wait to flay him later.
“Glad I could foot the bill and help you through your life transition, Dimples,” he said. Because right now, he was feeling pretty fucking used.
“That’s not fair.”
“No shit.” He pulled the door open for her, his heart lurching and his nose stinging. “Have a nice life.”
She looked like she might cry the tears he was viciously staving off, but then her phone chimed. One look at the screen and her face was once again placid. “That’s my cab.”
“Better catch it.” That last word came out quiet. He didn’t move toward her an inch. She didn’t come to him either, simply lifted her chin and collected her bags.
“Bye, Tag.”
Then she was out the door.
And out of his life.
* * *
“She dumped you?” Lucas dodged a plastic toy, avoiding suffering a concussion by a very narrow margin. “Not now, sweets,” he said to his daughter. “Daddy needs his brains right now.”
Tag had driven to Lucas’s after Rachel left. Tag had let her go, closing his front door and staring at it, his heart aching, his entire body buzzing and dull from lack of sleep. In his compromised state, he was afraid if he chased after her, he might drop to his knees and beg her not to leave.
He wasn’t about to do that. He had some pride.
After pacing his penthouse like a caged tiger for the next twenty minutes, he’d conceded there was no way he could sleep, so he’d grabbed his keys and called Lucas on the way.
“She used me,” Tag said now. He blinked, his vision grainy, brain set on stupid.
Lucas chuckled.
“What’s funny?”
“You look more confused than angry. Like someone put Shakespeare in front of you and asked you to point out examples of iambic pentameter.”
Tag felt his mouth screw to the side.
“Proving my point.”
“I’m past angry. I was angry an hour ago when I opened the door for her to leave my house.” But angry wasn’t necessarily the right word. Hurt. Pissed. Confused. Yeah, confusion was his reigning emotion at the present.
Lucas handed the baby off to Gena, whose laser-like eyes fried into Tag like he was a rotisserie chicken. “Once the baby is down for her nap, I’ll deal with you.”
Tag watched her go, then refocused on his friend. “What’d I do?”
“It’s what you didn’t do.” Lucas held up a finger to make his point.
Spreading his hands, Tag said, “Which was?”
“You could’ve gone to the wedding with Rachel.”
“I have to work. She knows I have to work.” That made sense, right? He couldn’t be sure, since each thought sloshed in his brain like a tossing ship.
“Uh-huh. Also, you’re allergic to weddings.”
“I’ve been to plenty of weddings.” Tag pushed his hair off his face and twisted it into a bun at the back of his neck. Why the hell was everyone’s focus on weddings all of a sudden?
“Never with a date,” Lucas said, crossing one leg at the ankle and resting a hand on his jeans. “We didn’t take dates to weddings, because they’d get diamond-eyed when they stepped up to catch the bouquet toss.”
“Diamond-eyed,” Tag repeated. Another stupid term for another stupid thing he and Luc used to do together. “What the fuck is wrong with us?” Or, more aptly, since Lucas was happily married, what was wrong with Tag?
“The world may never know.” Luc pushed off the couch. “You want some coffee?”
“Yeah.” Tag wasn’t any closer to arriving at an epiphany, but maybe coffee would help.
They bellied up to the bar—which was actually the kitchen counter. Lucas pressed a button on his fancy coffeemaker that ground the beans and started the pot brewing. By the time he had poured them each a cup, Gena swept into the kitchen, her daughter no longer in her arms.
“They’re both down,” she said, keeping her voice low. Then she pointed at Tag and handed him his own ass.
“You’re a fucking moron.” She smiled sweetly at Lucas. “Babe, pour me one?”
Lucas angled a glance at Tag, handed Gena a mug, and filled one for himself.
“Tag teamed,” Tag muttered. “In this case literally.” His joke had no hang time. It settled into the air like pungent gas. Gena even wrinkled her nose.
“Who was the last girl who dumped you?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
Tag blinked at Gena before shrugging. “I don’t know.” His mind flipped through his past dates like pages in a book. Slowly, given he was running at half-speed today. “I don’t remember.”
“Rachel,” Lucas answered with a snap of his fingers.
“Bingo.” Gena held up a hand and Lucas high-fived her.
Tag sent his buddy a glare meant to be a silent reprimand. Whose side was Luc on?
“She’s right. No one’s ever dumped you,” Luc said, sipping his coffee. “It’s your thing.”
“It’s not my thing,” Tag argued.
“No,” Gena interjected. “Your thing is breaking up with them before they break up with you. Letting them down easy so no one gets their feelings hurt. How many girls have you left in tears?”
“None.” Tag knew the answer instantly. He didn’t like tears. Didn’t like sadness in general. He never wanted to leave a girl feeling less than good about the time they’d spent together.
“Rachel learned a lot from you, seeing as how she let you down the same way. I don’t see you sobbing,” Gena said.
“No, Rachel was very clear about what I meant to her. She thanked me for all the monetary goods and services I’ve awarded her and then left whole.” His stomach soured and he pushed his coffee mug away. That wasn’t true. She hadn’t been whole. Tag hadn’t missed the pain etched on her face as she stepped out the door.
But she’d torn him to bits, so he’d felt justified letting her leave hurt.
“I gave her everything she’d let me,” he said. “Hawaii. Dates. Sex. She moved in. I kept trying to offer more, and she kept telling me no.” He lifted a hand in frustration. He’d have done more. He’d have given her the damn moon. “I have to work one weekend, and she’s done with me.”
He drank the coffee anyway. Stomach be damned, he needed caffeine.
“Wow, how could she leave you after you gave her the contents of your wallet?” Gena asked dryly. Lucas stepped away from Tag to avoid getting hit in the cross fire.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tag’s anger had peaked. He couldn’t take any more women falsely accusing him today.
“What comes hard for you, Tag?”
“This conversation isn’t exactly easy,” he snapped, standing to flatten his palms on the counter.
“Money doesn’t come hard for you,” she said.
“You know what”—Tag held up his hands in surrender—“I’m not doing this. Luc, later man.”
Gena, proving that Tag’s size didn’t intimidate her, moved to him and poked him square in the chest. “You bought her things. You took her to Hawaii. You had sex with her.”
“Oh, and you think she didn’t enjoy any of that?” Tag said in his defense, his heart twisting as memories of each moment they had together chugged through his brain like a railcar. The coffee on the beach at Oahu when Rachel sat between his legs, her head resting on his chest. The way she’d determinedly pushed up on her surfboard and then howled as she tumbled into the ocean. The shower where she turned him on and reclaimed her power at the same time.
“Those things come easy for you.” Gena interrupted his thoughts, poking him again. “You’re good at lavishing attention on women. You’re good at flying to Hawaii in the company plane. I’m assuming by your reputation that you have the sex thing down.”
“Damn straight,” he couldn’t keep from agreeing.
“Going to a wedding is hard,” Gena said. “Telling her how you feel is hard.”
Given the way the room swam, Tag was beginning to think Gena might have a point. The idea of telling Rachel his feelings—confronting his fears—was terrifying.
“Putting yourself on the line, telling her you’re not going anywhere, is hard. She wants the hard thing from you.”
Lucas snorted.
“Shut up,” Gena told her husband.
“Sweets, you can only make so many ‘hard’ references before it starts sounding funny.”
“This is your problem,” she snapped. Luc’s smile erased. Before Tag could become smug, she turned back to him. “You’re little boys. Grow up. Rachel never wanted your money or your gifts, Tag.” Her voice softened, she stopped poking him, and she patted his chest with the flat of her hand. “She wants your heart.”
Like that, the clouds cleared from his head.
Rachel left not because she’d become whole and found herself after using him. She’d left because he hadn’t given her a reason to stay. He hadn’t stepped up when she’d needed reassuring the most.
He thought of Reese’s words about their mother. How afraid of commitment Lunette Crane’s sons were. Because they feared being left by another woman they loved. Tag had avoided commitment his entire life, breaking off relationships but maintaining his “good guy” status. Then he avoided commitment with Rachel, and she was the one who left him.
Tag had opened the door for her to walk out, but in truth, he’d opened it a long time ago. Lucas saw what was coming a mile away, and when he’d confronted Tag with it, Tag had been too chickenshit to admit the truth. To Lucas, to himself.
To Rachel.
“I love her,” Tag muttered with a sad headshake. Reality came on like sobriety. With an ache after the numbness wore off.
Gena’s hand left his chest. “Does she know that?”
Tag and Lucas exchanged glances.
She didn’t. Or she never would have gone. If Tag knew one thing about Rachel, it was that she was cautious, until she wasn’t. And when she wasn’t, she threw herself in, body and soul. She’d thrown herself into him over and over. She’d flown to Hawaii with a virtual stranger, trusted him with her body when she tested the boundaries of her sexuality. She’d been the one trying not to take advantage of him by accepting his money or his help.
She’d been ready to step into him further, but now he could see the way she’d lingered on the edges, waiting for him to come around. And what did he do? He took a huge step away from her when she was the most fragile.
He flew to Hawaii instead of telling her how he felt.
Him not going with her to this wedding—especially after he’d been weird about her staying with him—had her believing he didn’t care about her. And after she’d dated a guy who didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, was it any wonder she’d pulled the plug?
It’s better for both of us if we don’t drag this out.
She’d been protecting herself. And he’d missed the opportunity to tell her she didn’t have to.
Tag blinked at Lucas, who wore a smirk.
“Have something to say?” Tag asked.
“Yup,” Luc answered. “Do you have a tux to fit those circus-sized shoulders, or is the wedding casual?”