“You didn’t even like him half the time.”
“Bullshit.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I did like him. You know I did.”
“Your stakes weren’t even close to mine. You shared guitar solos with him. I shared everything. My heart. My body. My goddamnsoul.”
“I know,” he says, softer now. “And I hate that he left. But maybe it was the right call. Maybe it was what you needed, even if you can’t see that yet.”
“I know what’s best for me. And it wasn’t that.”
“You think he’s happy out there? All alone in that cabin, knowing you’re—”
He stops short.
Bites down on his tongue.
A thick swallow snakes up his throat as his eyes dip to the floor, like he can scoop those words back up.
I blink, stunned.
Trembling and barely breathing.
I gape at him. “What cabin?”
Tag’s face goes white. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“What cabin?”
Shaking his head, he swivels away and charges into the living room.
“Tag! Don’t walk away from me.” I follow, breaking into a run, tripping over my feet. “What do you know? Has he contacted you? Do you know where he is?”
“Let it go, Annalise.”
“Absolutely not. You can’t—”
“It was just a hunch.” He whirls around. “You need to leave it.”
My eyes are huge, borderline crazed. “Never,” I breathe out.
I stare at him, my world dissolving like paper-mâché.
I feel ambushed, bowled over, and thunderstruck.
But I know. I see it all over his guilty face.
Betrayal.
“You know where he is,” I whisper brokenly. “You’ve known this whole time.”
Tag looks like he’s been gut-punched. He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t even try.
“How long?” I croak.
He rubs the back of his neck, exhaling sharp. “Dammit…”
“How. Long.” Each work stabs like a dagger.
“Six months.”
